#i might actually write some more fic since they allowed me to bring my laptop

[mita-vittua-olivia]

showed up to my government funded job extremely sleep-deprived, am i gwendolyn bouchard

[cupofteaguk]

on the road (to you)

summary: as a young adult, one of the strangest revelations is the discovery that peers of yours from past fragile college years are getting married. so imagine your shock and excitement upon receiving a wedding invitation. there are, however, two problems: (1) you are a poor early-20s recently employed adult just beginning to adjust to your 401k plan, and (2) the only available ride to the wedding comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook—friend of a friend, attendee to that aforementioned wedding, and your old college crush. 

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: roadtrip au, strangers to lovers au | fluff/angst 

warnings: recreational alcoholic consumption, definitely not an accurate representation of how a road trip might actually be, mentions of anxiety + insecurities, very minor book reference to: The Night Circus, equally minor movie references to: Mission Impossible and The Princess Bride because I have a problem, light makeout sessions, talks of DTR (define the relationship), some angst but this is me so there’s a happy ending. 

word count: 27k 

a/n: a birthday present for the one and only Jeon Jungkook, whom I love and respect so much and only wish the bestest of days for. Partly inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “invisible string” +  a love letter of sorts to my own old high school crush for whom my memory of him helped build Jungkook’s character. This also turned out way longer than I ever wanted it to be lol oops! 

update: i was actually able to do a writer’s audio tag on this fic!!! check it out if you want to hear about the behind the scenes process that went into writing this fic <3 

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When you land a job in the months following your college graduation, you feel as if you are on top of the world. How could you not? After all, the norm that follows post-college is one of disappointment and constant hunts online to find job openings for any position that could suit your background and previous work experiences. It’s a fear that plagues lots of your friends, both those in college and out. It’s the same paranoia you had in the months leading up to graduation and the few months after graduation—in which your days were measured by the boxes you packed to move out of your tiny college apartment and into an equally tiny new apartment you currently share with an old roommate of yours, as well as the days you spent hunched over your computer and scrolling through job postings. 

You had gone through more than a handful of cover letters, resume submissions, and in person interviews before finally landing the job you currently have and have been working under for a month now. 

Throughout the course of the recent month, you’ve continued to secure certain moments that solidify the confidence that you’re finally becoming an adult. Sure, a barely functioning adult who mostly still uses the microwave to heat up your frozen Mac and Cheese—but an adult nonetheless. From learning how to pay your bills online, to realizing that grocery shopping was something you needed to make a conscious effort to do, along with going to and from your nine to five job with your coffee order in hand. 

All of those things have helped you feel like you were, perhaps, finally getting your life together. 

And then you receive the invitation in the mailbox. 

It happens when you unlock your box on a bright March morning, taking out the usual round of bills and fashion magazines until your fingers lock around an envelope bigger than the normal letter size. It’s much sturdier too. 

You don’t know what to think of the letter, until you bring the damn thing back into your apartment and rip the opening. The mere sight of the content inside makes you feel like the hand of life has just taken your figurine and moved you back a good twenty squares. 

The post in your hand reads: 

WITH GREAT JOY, IRENE AND SEOKJIN REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE FOR THEIR WEDDING CELEBRATION ON THE DAY OF MAY 25TH. COCKTAILS, DINNER, AND DANCING TO FOLLOW. 

There’s a date at the bottom of the invitation. As you line the date up with your calendar, you realize that you have a week to RSVP to the event. 

You toss the envelope onto the counter in the kitchen just to glare at the cardstock, maybe to convince yourself this is a dream or at least convince yourself that it’s normal for your friend from college to be getting married even when you have yet to land a successful relationship of your own. 

You aren’t as close with Irene as you used to be, but the memory of your friendship is still at the forefront of your mind. The pair of you met during your final year of university, when you were assigned to work together for one of your many senior projects and immediately clicked. The months you spent in her apartment and vice versa pulling out all-nighters in desperate attempts to finish your project definitely earns you an invitation. At the very least, you are happy to see that Irene: bright and smart and funny, is getting married. 

Not only that, but getting married to Seokjin. He’s a year older than you and Irene, but those two met when he was still enrolled and have been inseparable ever since. You don’t know relationships that well, but you know them enough to recognize that Seokjin and Irene were what everyone called the ‘endgame’. In truth, it was only a matter of time before you were to receive one of these from them. 

But did she really have to one-up you like this? Not that it’s a competition. However, it does leave a funny feeling to see someone the same age as you display a much more put together handle on life. You groan at the thought.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Karly asks. 

You turn to your roommate. She’s seated at the kitchen table, books out and everywhere as she looks over at you. Karly: fellow alumni, graduated from her undergrad program early to go straight into pursuing her master’s degree. She’s a busy bee. You wave the envelope. “Irene is getting married.” 

Her eyes widen. “Ah shit, no way?” She takes the paper that you offer to her and looks over the invitation. “Damn, I knew it was only a matter of time before we started getting this stuff, but to actually see it happening…” 

You groan. “I know right!” You take the cardstock back from your friend. “It’s only been six months since we graduated, how could she be getting married already?” 

“Well, Irene did have a job lined up for her right after graduation,” Karly points out thoughtfully. She sees the look of bewilderment you give her. “What? It was on her Instagram.” 

You pout. “Of course Irene would have a job lined up like that.” You run a hand through your hair. “I mean, that’s good for her. Really good, actually…” 

Karly jerks her chin towards the envelope still in your hand. “So, are you planning to go?” 

“I don’t know, do you have plans that day?” You wave the paper. “I’m allowed a plus one.” 

Your roommate cracks a smile. “Are you asking me out? A little forward of you, we’ve been friends for so long…” 

You whine, shaking the paper and little more frantically. “Karly, this is important! I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone!” 

She laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What was the date again?” 

You provide the date to her. You approach Karly’s place at the kitchen table and watch as she opens the calendar on her laptop. Immediately, you are overwhelmed by all the deadlines she’s got under practicality every date on the screen. Yet, a “wow” is the only thing you can say at the sight. 

Karly smiles, sparing you a glance over her shoulder. “One of the joys of being a grad student slash T.A. slash research assistant.” She scrolls down into May, and narrows her eyes upon May 25th. Underneath the date is an event—color coated to bright orange and typed out in all caps. CONFERENCE WITH PROFESSOR WONG. “Oh crap, I have a conference that day.” 

“No…” You whine some more, trailing off as you grab Karly by the shoulders and begin shaking. “Karly! You’ve left me out for the bears! What am I supposed to do?” 

Karly laughs as she lets herself be manhandled in this way. “I don’t know! Go and deepen your social life or something.” 

You stop shaking her and glare instead. “Is that a joke?” 

“What do you expect me to say?” She retorts, appalled by your answer. “Then don’t go.” 

You whine again. “But this is Irene, and I’ll feel bad for not going and congratulating her!” 

“Then go!” 

“But I don’t have a plus one!” 

Karly places her hands at her temples. “Oh my god, this is like the circle of stupidity with you. Then find a plus one! Or just don’t go!” She whirls around to face you. “I will help you find a dress if you decide to go. I will also sit with you on the couch and eat popcorn with you if you decide not to go.” 

You continue to pout, knowing that you deserve that gentle attempt at a lecture but still not liking the reason why you needed such a talking to. 

“Fine,” You eventually decide to say, sliding into the seat next to Karly and leaning forward to plant your entire upper body on the table. 

Karly laughs at your defeated posture. “Well, you have the rest of the week to make your decision.” 

She has a point. That doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

.

For the rest of the week the decision of whether or not you should attend the wedding becomes a weight in your mind. You spend the next few days pondering it, thinking over the pros and the cons. 

As overdramatic as it is, you think about it during work, when you’re partaking in your home workout routines, and even when you’re about to fall asleep. You do want to go, you really do. It’ll be the first time you attend a wedding that didn’t involve a relative, which feels like a big deal in your adult agenda mindset. And Irene is someone you wouldn’t mind spending an evening with to catch up. 

However, you wouldn’t get to spend the evening with Irene—after all, a wedding implies that she would likely be mingling with all of her guests and you would just be another attendee forced to find other means of entertainment. That’s where the plus one comes in handy. Except you don’t have a plus one. A slight problem. 

You sigh. Work is a little slow today, as you are also experiencing the afternoon slump in which your mind drifts away more often than usual. You find yourself with a small laundry list of tasks (such as emailing companies, working on drafts for releases, and trying to set up different appointments) but without the motivation to do those things right away. Because of that, your afternoon slump takes the form of opening airline services to find information and prices about flying to Irene’s wedding. It’s in her hometown, about a five hour flight time from here to there. 

You click on the various boxes that require information, finally allowing a search. As the search goes through, your eyes take in all the prices—both the amount to get there and to get back—and your lips part slightly at the totaling numbers. 

“Five hundred dollars?” You mutter to yourself. You’re not sure how this would work with budgeting, but you’re still trying to figure out how to balance the cost of AC, the internet, and how to eat appropriate meals at least once a day. You don’t have five hundred dollars to spend on an airplane ticket. A slightly bigger problem. 

You sigh again, resting your elbow on the desk and your chin in the palm as your eyes continue to scroll through the website. 

Behind you, fingers curl around the top of your cubicle. There is a silence between the two of you: him, merely observing, and you, completely oblivious, until he clears his throat. 

You jump, having not expected to be interrupted like this. A squeak leaves the back of your throat as you whirl around to see who is visiting you. “Jimin!” You exclaim, taking in the boy now perched along the wall of your cubicle. This is before you narrow your eyes. “Asshole, you scared me!” 

If you just started working here and learned that you’d be cursing out Park Jimin for startling you, that past version of yourself might have turned red, shocked, and nervous at the thought. A month ago, Jimin was that coworker—as friendly as friendly people come by. With his pretty eyes, perfectly soft pink lips, and freshly dyed brown hair, you had been immediately taken by his charm and helpful nature. 

Then the month went by, and you realized there were no romantic intentions on either end. Jimin then became your first friend in your new job. Albeit, he’s a nosy friend who enjoys asking questions and dragging you out to nearby bars and coming over occasionally with take-out, but a friend nonetheless. 

“Sorry!” Jimin says back, then he glares at you. “What are you doing over here anyways?” 

You shake your head. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? You’ve been sighing all afternoon.” Jimin pulls out a slip of paper from behind his back. “Fifty times in the last hour, I swear to god.” 

You straighten out of your seat to get a better look at the paper, unamused to find fifty tally marks across the surface. “You’re lying, there’s no way that I sighed fifty times in an hour.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t know, you’re the one doing all the sighing!” Jimin retorts, lowering his hand with the paper. “Is something up with you? Did something happen?” His eyes flicker to the monitor screen behind you and he frowns. “What the fuck? Are you moving away already?” 

You blink. “What?” 

He jerks his chin towards the computer. “You’re looking at flight prices.” 

“Huh?” You turn around, having completely forgotten about your previous predicament in light of discovering that Jimin counts your sighs. “Oh! No…” 

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “No, you’re not looking at flight prices?” 

You slide back into your chair, a silent invitation for Jimin to step further into your cubicle. You sigh again, and he holds the paper back up. Taking a pencil out of his pocket, he makes another mark. You look over at him upon hearing the pencil scratch and scowl. “Give me that!” You grab the paper from his hand. “I’m dealing with a crisis right now, don’t count my sighs!”

“Alright! Alright!” Jimin slides behind you and leans forward to get a better look at your computer screen. “So where are you moving to this time?” 

You press your lips together. “I’m not moving away. A friend of mine from college is getting married. I’m just trying to see how expensive it would be to fly over there.” 

He whistles at the five hundred dollar price in your cart. “That’s pretty expensive.” 

“I know!” You groan, throwing yourself further back into your chair. “I wouldn’t mind going, but I don’t have a plus one. And as you can see, flying there would be a challenge on my wallet.” 

Jimin hums at that. “Well, regarding your plus one problem, I wouldn’t mind going with you.” 

You turn to look at him. “Really? You’d go across the country and endure an entire evening with your coworker and her old college classmates?” 

He shrugs. “If you’re desperate, I’ll keep my offer around.” He actually pouts this time. “Are you implying that you see me more as a coworker than a friend? After all the times we’ve hung out outside of work!” 

Your eyes widen slightly, having not thought of that. “No, no, Jimin, I mean—yes, I do see you as a friend now but we met as coworkers so I just think of you as a coworker first—!” You’re rambling. 

Jimin interrupts by patting your shoulder, the corner of his lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m just messing with you.” 

You shake your head again. “Asshole,” You grumble, returning your attention back to your computer. 

Jimin is still mid-laughter behind you. “Anyways, yeah, like I said. If you’re desperate to go, I wouldn’t mind going with you. But deciding how to get there is a different question entirely.” 

You turn to glare at your friend for a moment. “I’ll let you know.” 

He nods, before his lips part and he’s snapping his fingers. “Oh yeah! I wanted to ask you something.” 

He backs up, allowing you enough space to turn around fully and face him. “Okay, what’s up?” 

Jimin grins, lifting his leg up to nudge your chair slightly. “I’m going out tonight—you should come with.” 

You don’t even give this a second thought. Your lips turn into a downwards curl as you shake your head. “Nope.” 

Jimin looks appalled. “Why not? Didn’t you have fun the last time we went out?” 

“If ‘fun’ to you is trying to drag your drunk ass home and staying the night to make sure you wouldn’t choke on your vomit…” You grumble, trying not to shudder at the memory. It has only been a few days since that ‘fun’ time. 

“I told you that sometimes I overestimate my abilities, and I already apologized for that,” Jimin points out, although he does have the decency to look guilty for that mess. He perks up again. “But this’ll be different, I promise. I’m meeting up with some friends and we’re just gonna catch up. It’s at one of the quieter bars uptown: no loud DJ, no bright lights, no bottomless rum and coke. Promise. It’ll just be a lot of socializing.” He watches you hesitantly. Socializing has never been your strong suit. “And finger food.” 

The mention of food does make you look up towards him—your first sign of interest towards something. However, another thought weighs you down. “Are you sure you even want me to go?” You ask after a moment. “I mean, this is a catch up with friends. Wouldn’t I be intruding?” 

“Not at all!” Jimin brushes off, waving away your concern with his hand. “I told you, it’s a socializing thing. Besides, my friends are always bringing someone along. They were asking me when I’d have a friend tag along, so I thought you’d be a good selection.” He notices you still frowning. “C’mon! It’ll be fun. When I’m not vomiting over your shoes, I’m good company. And I promise I won’t be vomiting this time.” 

You stare at Jimin for a moment longer, contemplating his words. This is very true. Jimin is an ideal friend to have during social gatherings—he’s good at keeping a conversation going so you don’t have to shoulder the weight alone, he’s good at reading when you’re in a good mood and when you’re ready to go home, and he’s excellent at keeping unwanted attention away. You know this. Jimin knows that you know this. 

It takes one curl of your lips for Jimin to grin, knowing that he has convinced you. “Okay!” He says, finalizing the decision without having to hear the actual answer from you. He pats your knee. “We’ll take the subway after work, it’s just a few stops down.” 

If your mind conjures up any second thoughts, Jimin leaves before you are able to express them. 

.

True to Jimin’s word, the pair of you step into a subway heading westbound as soon as you’re finished with work. It’s much later in the day now, the afternoon sun has changed into a night sky with a chill spring breeze to match. The carts are filled with the evening crowd of adults, all done with another day of work and finding enjoyment for the rest of today by returning home or seeing friends. It’s a rarity that you would fall under that latter category, but the thought makes you excited nonetheless. 

“Alright, so you wanna tell me a little bit about these friends that I’m seeing tonight?” You ask, gripping the handlebar above you but leaning towards Jimin so he can hear what you’re saying over the noise of the subway speeding down the tracks. 

Jimin grins. “They’re just some friends I grew up with. We like to get together once a month to catch up and hang out, since everyone is so busy with their own lives.” 

You smile back. “That’s actually really sweet of you guys, to plan hangouts once a month.” 

He lightly flicks your forehead. “Hey, are you saying I’m normally not very sweet?” 

“Well, not right now!” You protest, hand over your forehead. “That hurt.” 

“You’re being a baby!” Jimin retorts back. 

The pair of you continue to bicker like this until your stop is announced over the intercom. Jimin halts the further insults being thrown at each other as he gestures towards the approaching station, as seen through the window of the subway. 

“This is our stop,” Jimin says to you, allowing you to step out onto the platform first. He joins behind you right after, leading the way as the subway’s three chimes signal the closing of the doors. There’s a breeze that follows, running through your hair and clothes as the subway zooms away to its next stop. The station itself is crowded, filled with groups of friends and individuals carrying on with the rest of their evening, overall looking so lively and you can feel yourself feeding off their energy. 

With a gesture pointing up the stairs that’ll take the pair of you to ground level, Jimin leads the way. You make your way through people, following Jimin’s guide until you’re both exiting the station and entering the world of your new stop. It’s another area of the city you work in, so the change in scenery isn’t too dramatic—but it’s a place more catered towards restaurants, shopping areas, and hang-out sections. The bright neon signs protrude out from the building, flashing the various products or services the specific building offered: from manicure care to corner ramen shops. 

“C’mon, let’s hurry!” Jimin calls back to you, picking his pace up slightly. He’s not running, but his long legs make it harder for you to keep up. “Everyone is already there.” 

The pair of you continue to pace down the sidewalk, past the crowds of people waiting to eat, people lingering outside of clothing stores. Finally, Jimin slows down near a restaurant. He looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still behind him, before entering the establishment. He mentions something about knowing where their seats are, before continuing deeper into the restaurant. 

As you look around, the place does look like a restaurant slash bar—not as crazy as some of the bars Jimin takes you with the intention of actually getting drunk, but there’s still a bar here and there’s still alcohol being shared heavily. It’s the same demographic of early 20s, young adults with friends, but there are actual tables and chairs and booths set up like a restaurant. So you suppose Jimin hadn’t been lying to you about this. 

“There they are!” Jimin says to you, as you look up and follow Jimin’s finger to the table in the far corner that is completely filled with the exception of two seats. You vaguely make out the back of some heads, most belonging to boys, before your eyes land on one of the boys facing you and Jimin. He’s sitting at the far end of the table, currently laughing brightly at something one of the boys at the table has said. For all intents and purposes, the boy is cute. Extremely cute. When he laughs, his eyes and nose crinkle and his lips spread into a wild smile—and brings out the dimple on his cheek. He looks like the embodiment of all your ideal types mashed into a singular being. 

All of those things. Yet, that is not the reason why you are staring. None of those things come close to why you stop dead in your tracks, why your heart drops in your chest, why your eyes widen. Even with the shitty lighting in this restaurant, you are one hundred percent positive. “Jimin!” You manage to choke out, having enough well power to grab onto his hand seconds before he is able to make himself and yourself known to his friends. 

He whirls around, wide-eyed and curious and worried. “What? Is everything okay?” 

You shake your head. The room feels too small. “I think there’s something I should tell you—!” 

“Hey, is that Jimin? Jimin!” Your voice is very easily drowned out by the sound of another, much louder voice that seems to boom through the restaurant. 

Jimin turns back around in time to face one of the boys from the table who has gotten out of his seat. You are able to see him from over Jimin’s shoulder—a tall boy with messy unkempt hair and a boxy smile. Jimin greets him with a “Taehyung!” before the boys embrace. “Taehyungie,” Jimin continues afterwards, turning around so both are able to face you. “This is Y/N, she’s a coworker of mine.” 

Taehyung grins, a friendly gesture that makes you relax. But only slightly. “Y/N! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a bit about you from Jimin. All good things, I promise.” 

“W-Well, that’s good to hear,” You manage shakily, eyes nervously darting to the boy at the end of the table, who has stopped his conversation and is now looking at you and Jimin. 

“Let me introduce you,” Jimin says, breaking your concentration as he rests a hand on your shoulder. He points right at the boy at the end of the table, who is still staring at you. His eyebrows are furrowed together. You want to bury yourself alive. “That one over there is—!” 

A lightbulb seems to go off in the boy’s head. His face breaks out into a smile as he points at you. “Hey, Y/N!” 

Jimin looks taken aback at the fact you are being recognized by someone at the table. His hand lowers as he looks over at you. 

You, however, cannot focus on Jimin. You can only focus on the boy at the end of the table, the boy currently smiling over at you with all the light in his eyes, the boy who makes the memories flash through your mind. From that, the best you can manage is a tiny smile. “Jungkook!” 

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Where do you even begin with him? 

You met Jungkook during your second year of university. He had been an arts major (you were not) and yet, your paths crossed multiple times throughout the quarter as a result of sharing many general education classes together. You even were forced to pair up on a project for one of those aforementioned G.E. classes. Neither of you ran in the same social circle, but that didn’t change how sweet, funny, charming, endearing, easy-going, friendly, smart, and nice Jungkook was. It was very easy for him to make friends, very easy for him to go out of his way to say hi to you in the library or in class or in the cafeteria, and very easy for him to strike up a basic conversation with you. 

Because of that, it was very easy for you to fall for him—to develop a deep-rooted crush that went on for the rest of your university experience. You would use the term ‘friends’ very loosely when describing what your relationship with Jungkook had been. You had never hung out with him outside the context of school, never went out to eat with him, and never saw him again after graduation. Until now. 

Actually, ‘acquaintances’ would probably be a much more fitting term. 

“Hey, I haven’t seen you since graduation!” Jungkook is saying as he stands up from his chair and approaches you. As if on autopilot, you return the one armed hug he gives you. His smile, while still pleasant, holds a surprising tinge of shyness to it. 

“Woah, hold on a second,” Jimin interrupts, immediately pointing between Jungkook and you. “You guys know each other?” 

“Y/N and I went to university together!” Jungkook provides. 

Jimin looks like his eyes are about to fall out of his sockets. 

“We’ve known each other since second year,” Jungkook continues. He looks over at you. “I didn’t know you know Jimin.” 

“Uh…” You forget how to speak. You’re too busy looking at Jungkook as if you haven’t seen him for years. In a way, it feels like that. Seeing people from college outside of college after a graduation ceremony is like meeting them again for the first time—most of them develop a more independent look. Some look like their life is seconds from falling apart. Some look much happier without the institutional pressure to secure classes and grades and internships. Sadly for you, Jungkook falls under the latter category. Did he always have that twinkle of starlight in his eyes? 

“Y/N and I work together,” Jimin provides, seeming to realize that you weren’t going to answer Jungkook’s question. “She started working about a month ago.” 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jungkook replies, still looking at you. It is then he seems to notice that the three of you are standing in the middle of the restaurant. Although you are not distracting any patrons, the workers probably don’t appreciate it. “How about we sit down? We’ll be able to catch up more!” 

Jimin seems to regain control of the situation quicker than you do, because he nods at Jungkook. “Let me introduce her to everyone, then we’ll join you.” You look over to where Jungkook had been sitting and immediately notice the previously empty two chairs right across from him—like fate, or something terrible like that. 

So you watch as Jungkook makes his way back to his seat, and Jimin starts to guide you around the table. He only drops a name. Surprisingly, he doesn’t linger, he merely takes you to the next person. It only takes you a second to figure out why. 

“You didn’t tell me you know Jungkook,” Jimin hisses in between the time it takes to travel in between people. 

“I didn’t know you knew Jungkook!” You hiss back. You smile and nod politely at the person Jimin introduces as Yoongi. “Seriously, you never mentioned him once!” 

Jimin only keeps his frustration for a moment before he’s introducing you to someone named Hoseok, a boy with a bright smile, the one who was making Jungkook laugh earlier. “Okay, fine,” He relents, the pair of you finally move to take your seats. “But what was that earlier?” 

“What was what?” 

“You were just staring at him! What, did you have a huge crush on him or something—?” Jimin accuses, but he stops. Just as the pair of you are about to sit down, Jimin parts his lips in realization. “Oh.” Then, he sends you an absolutely wicked grin. “Oh, okay.” 

Your eyes widen at him, murder in your eyes. “Jimin!” 

“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice cuts through your little biting banter with Jimin. 

You whirl around to face Jungkook, eyes completely devoid of murder and voice several pitches higher. “Hi, Jungkook!” 

He smiles, such a wonderful little thing that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Hi.” 

Jimin ducks his head to hide the fact that he wants nothing more than to burst into fits of laughter. 

“So how have you been?” Jungkook starts up. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. Since you landed a job, you seem to be doing well.” 

“I am!” You manage, only continuing to try and keep a handle on your heart and managing well enough this time. “There were a few months of just scrolling through job postings and writing cover letter after cover letter though.” 

Jungkook laughs, another beautiful gesture that makes you mirror his smile. “I definitely feel that.” 

“Well, what about you? What have you been up to?” You ask. “I think I saw on your Instagram and you were traveling around for a little?” 

His eyes light up at that. “Oh yeah! I don’t know if you remember Kim Mingyu from school?” You do. “Well, he and a friend of his got into some freelancing and had to do some traveling around to work on some filming. He asked me to come along because I actually have some photography experience. So that was a thing I did for a few months.” 

You nod, smiling. “No way! That’s so cool.” 

You do relax after a few conversational exchanges with Jungkook. He’s just as relaxed and mellow, yet friendly and polite as ever, and it’s easy to make conversation with him as it always has been. Eventually, you join in on the larger conversations with the whole table—touching on topics from your university experiences to tales from your new job. A lot of your role, however, falls to listening. Jimin’s friends are rowdy, funny, and out-going. They invite you in like you have been in this group for years—and are able to provide context on older memories they are revisiting. 

Most of your evening, however, is engaging in conversation with Jungkook. Occasionally, Jimin will join in, but he does spend most of his time laughing along to something his other friends are saying. Since you and Jungkook have always been friendly with each other, long conversations aren’t out of the ordinary. You just never considered how well you and Jungkook got along, how easy it would be to transition from topic to topic. 

“I am really glad that Jimin invited you along,” Jungkook explains brightly after the pair of you are done laughing following Jungkook’s tale of another fuck-ups with Kim Mingyu. “Makes you realize how small the world is.” 

“Oh, you should have seen her moping around earlier today,” Jimin interjects, choosing now of all times to insert himself back into your conversation with Jungkook. “She was sighing all afternoon—so maybe we should thank her misery that I decided to invite her along tonight.” 

Jungkook turns to you, a sympathetic look across his face. “Did you have a bad day today?” 

You try for a laugh, waving away Jimin’s words. “Jimin’s just overreacting. Actually, I found out a friend of mine from college is getting married, so I was trying to figure out my plan…” You start, trailing off as you look at Jungkook. “Wait, you didn’t know Irene, did you?” 

“I did.” His eyes widen as his lips part in realization. “Oh my god, you were invited to Irene’s wedding too?” 

“I was!” You exclaim, unsure whether you should be excited or even more nervous at the prospect of potentially seeing Jungkook at the wedding event. “Holy shit, this makes it an even smaller world. How did you know Irene?” 

Jungkook is still mid-giggle at the pure coincidence of everything. “We both knew Mingyu! This is so crazy. Are you planning to go?” 

You shrug. Jimin chooses to interject once more. “That’s what Y/N over here was sighing all afternoon over.” 

You whine as you look at Jimin. “No need to sell me out! Listen, Jungkook.” You turn back to the boy opposite of you, who is still gazing at you. “I’m sure you understand my current predicament.” 

“Sure.” 

“You know how expensive flights can be.” 

“Of course.” 

You fold your arms over each other and rest them on the table. “So, are you planning to go to the wedding?” 

He nods. “Most likely, yeah. I actually knew that the wedding was going to be happening soon, since Mingyu told me about it as soon as Irene got the ring. I ran into the flight problem pretty quickly too, so I decided to just drive to the event.” 

Jimin whistles. “Drive across the country, huh, JK? That must be a four day trip, or something.” 

“It was coming out to be,” Jungkook acknowledges with a nod. “But it’s okay.” He’s grinning, looking excited at the prospect. “I’ve never done a cross country drive before, so it was actually kind of exciting to plan the route. There are a few places I want to stop by and visit. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Then, Jungkook turns back to you. “If you decide that flying would be too expensive, then you’re more than welcome to come along. It’ll be nice to have some company and not spend four days by myself.” 

Entirely on instinct, you start to laugh. You think he’s joking—how could you not? This is probably one of the longest conversations you’ve ever had with Jungkook. Like you’ve mentioned before, you wouldn’t consider him a friend. Why would he seriously try to invite you on a road trip?  “Yeah, I’m not too sure—I’ve never done a cross country trip before…” 

The conversation shifts pretty quickly as soon as you reply back to Jungkook. Hoseok asks you a question that drags your attention away, simultaneously allowing you to forget about Jungkook’s request. 

The end of the dinner happens soon after, when the bill has been paid and you suspect the long line of people outside waiting for a table are waiting for your party to be done. So venmo exchanges and money debts go around until each member of the table starts standing up one by one to make their move to exit the restaurant. 

You and Jimin are one of the first to leave. Goodbyes are exchanged along with the polite ‘it was nice to meet you’ phrase thrown around. Jungkook is mid-conversation with Yoongi, but he still gives you a quick hug of parting before you and Jimin exit the restaurant. 

The pair of you only make it out a few steps before there is a familiar voice calling your name. “Hey, Y/N! Y/N, wait up!” You stop and turn around, surprised to see Jungkook dashing out of the restaurant. He rests himself for a moment before he’s straightening back up to look at you. 

You try for a smile. “Hey Jungkook, what’s up?” 

He takes in a few more deep breaths to calm himself—either from the dashing he just did or to steel himself for the next question, you don’t know. “It’s about me inviting you to drive up to Irene’s wedding—I just thought I’d let you know it was a serious invitation. Having the company would be nice, and you wouldn’t be a burden to me, seriously. Besides, it’ll be fun to spend some time together.” 

“O-Oh,” You stammer, wringing your hands together. “I’m not too sure… I still have to think about it.” 

“Of course, of course,” Jungkook dismisses good naturedly. “Just thought I’d let you know, so you know that you do have options.” 

Although the offer makes you nervous, you cannot dismiss Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. You give him a more relaxed smile. “I really appreciate that Jungkook, thank you.” 

He smiles at your smile. “No problem! Actually…” He digs around for the wallet in his pocket and produces a little card. “Here’s my business card—my cell phone number is on here so just text or call if you decide to join me. Or,” He presses his lips into a more bashful smile. “You can just text me whenever for whatever reason. I just thought I’d let you know that it was good to see you again.” 

You take the card slowly, unable to look away from Jungkook’s face. He looks so genuine and shy that it doesn’t help your own racing heart. “It was good to see you too, Jungkook…” You return, albeit a little breathlessly. 

He smiles again, dimples pressing in his cheek (and your heart). He turns to Jimin “Oh yeah, nice seeing you too Park.” 

“Hey.” Jimin hits him on the shoulder. “I’m your hyung, you should show me more respect!” 

“My bad, my bad.” Jungkook doesn’t apologize though. His gaze flickers to yours one more time, gaze looking strangely hopeful. “I’ll see you guys around.” He walks backwards a few paces before turning around and returning to the restaurant. Maybe to see his other friends. 

Either way, it doesn’t matter. You are still screaming internally regardless—as shown through your red cheeks, widened eyes, and singing heart. Jimin will certainly never let you live this moment down. 

. 

Now, you are screaming externally. You don’t even give a thought or an explanation. You simply walk into your apartment, nosedive for the couch, and start yelling into one of the throw pillows. 

There’s a rapid movement of footsteps coming from down the hallway almost immediately, one that grows gradually louder until the owner of the steps starts speaking. “Who the fuck is out there? I’ve played softball my entire life and therefore will not hesitate to drive this bat so far up your ass—oh, Y/N.” The voice lowers significantly, as does the threat level it emits into the air. “It’s just you.” 

You lift your face from the throw pillow, and immediately brush away at the hair that falls in your face. “What the fuck!” You croak, pushing yourself into a sitting position and pointing at the bat in Karly’s hands. “What are you doing threatening me with a bat? You’ve never played a game of softball in your life!” 

“Oh, this isn’t mine. It’s Soonyoung’s.” Soonyoung is Karly’s boyfriend from high school, who used to play baseball on the high school team. How Karly has her boyfriend’s baseball bat is a mystery, but it’s something you think you are better off not asking about. She places the bat down on the carpet next to the coffee table. “But I should be asking you the questions, you bitch! You scared the shit out of me!” 

You sigh, throwing your head to rest on the back of the couch. “Sorry, sorry. Had a crazy day.” 

Karly ponders this as she moves to take a seat next to you. “You seemed fine when you texted me about you getting drinks with Jimin. Did something happen during the dinner?” 

You straighten up again and grip Karly by the arm. “Okay, don’t scream.” 

“You mean like you did?” Karly retorts dryly. 

You shake her. “I’m serious!” When Karly doesn’t say anything, you take it as a sign to continue with your story. “I saw Jungkook.” 

Karly blinks, then grabs your arm right back. “Wait, Jeon Jungkook, as in the guy you’ve been crushing on since second year?” 

“Yes!” You whine, throwing yourself onto the couch all over again. 

“The one you had to work together on a project with and nearly cried even though you guys just had to submit a paper?” 

“Yes!” 

“The one who said hi to you in the library that one time and you tried to put your elbow on the table afterwards but you missed and hit your head instead?” 

You pause, scowling. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. Are you done?” 

Karly is laughing. “Oh my god. What are the chances of you seeing him now?” 

“There’s more,” You groan out. 

“Really? Honestly that yell could have been just for seeing him again and that would have made sense—!” 

You ignore her. “He’s friends with Jimin. He’s friends with Irene, too. He was invited to her wedding.” 

“Wait, Jimin is friends with Irene or Jungkook is friends with Irene—?” 

“He won’t pay for the flight though. It’s too expensive. I can attest to that.” 

Karly holds a finger up, trying to connect the dots. “When did you look up flight prices—?” 

“So he invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.” 

Karly frowns. 

You sigh. “Jungkook invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.” 

“Oh! Oh!” Karly’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, that’s huge. Are you gonna go?” 

“I don’t know!” You whine. “Jungkook mentioned it would be a four day drive to get there. I don’t know if I can survive four days in a car with him! We’ve never been that close, what if it gets awkward?” 

Karly ponders this. “I really don’t think it’s in Jungkook’s nature to be awkward with someone—especially someone he’s had a history with.” She sees the look of disbelief you give her. “Well, even if that history was really limited. What makes you think it’ll be awkward? Was it awful seeing him tonight?” 

“No!” You cry, straightening into a sitting position so your legs drape over the side of the couch. You force yourself to calm down. “It… it was pretty good actually.” 

Karly raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Really now.” 

“Yeah…” You reply, trailing off. “We sat across from each other during the dinner and we talked most of the night, surprisingly. I guess because we were sort of acquaintances we’ve always known about each other, so it wasn’t like we didn’t know how to ask questions to each other. And Jungkook… he’s easy to talk to as he’s always been and he’s so nice and positive and he has a dimple on his cheek when he smiles…” You finish slowly, noticing your racing heart that has come up as a result of this conversation and of your memory. You realize the predicament you’re in, further emphasized by Karly’s growing grin. You groan. “Shut up.” 

Karly looks like a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t say anything.” 

You grab onto one of the throw pillows and properly hit her in the face. “You’re saying many things right now, you bitch!” 

Karly takes the pillow from you and proceeds to whack you in the shoulder. “Not outloud!” 

“So you admit it!” You accuse, pointing at her. 

Karly yells. “Just admit you still have a crush on him!” 

Your groan turns into a cry. “Don’t say it outloud! Now I have to deal with it!” 

Your roommate sighs. “Bitch, I can tell you exactly how to deal with this. You’re gonna go on this road trip with Jungkook and see if you guys vibe—you honestly will not find a better way to discover your compatibility with him. If it works out, then you get more than a plus one to the wedding. If it doesn’t work out, just skip the wedding and take the first flight back home. Cut off your friendship with Jimin while you’re at it—it’s the only way to ensure you’ll never have to run into Jungkook again.” 

You pout. “That seems a little dramatic.” 

Karly thinks for a second, then she nudges you. “Remind me again about that quote your high school English teacher used to always parade around.” 

You stare at her for a moment, because you know exactly what point she’s trying to make. Still, you decide to humor her. And yourself. “‘You’ll never know if you’ll sink, swim, or float, until you’re willing to take the plunge’.” You level Karly with another gaze. Your friend has a point. You missed any chance to hang out with Jungkook during your college years—partly because your friend groups never intersected, but mostly because of your internalized fear of fucking up. But now that you are just a little older and just a little more versed in the art of conversing and befriending—maybe Karly is right. Maybe this is your chance to see if a different set of timing could make a difference. 

So you sigh. 

“I guess I should text Jungkook, huh.” 

Karly pats you on the shoulder. “Take the plunge, my dude.” 

.

You do take the plunge. You take Jungkook’s business card out from the pocket of your dress and dial the number. He expresses excitement—and also relief. 

These things lead up to the current moment. Eight o’clock in the morning: you lingering in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, your suitcase by the door, and a roommate keeping you company. 

You don’t realize how nervous you are until you get a text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (8:03am): i’m here! u can buzz me up so i can help u with your stuff :) 

You (8:03am): it’s ok jungkook it’s just a suitcase. i’ll be down in a second! 

You pocket your phone, and Karly can read the expression across your face before you realize what is going on. She straightens up. “He’s here?” 

“Yeah.” You rinse your coffee cup and make your way towards the door. “Did you want to come down with me?” 

Karly stops and gives you a look. “I thought that was already implied.” 

“Well, thanks, that’s really nice—!” 

“Someone has to give you an embarrassing goodbye.” 

“There it is.” You sigh. You don’t say anything as you and Karly exit the apartment and make your way down the hall into the elevator. It only takes a few seconds for the elevator to lower down to the ground floor, where you and Karly exit and make your way to the front of the apartment complex. 

You swear your heart beats just a little faster as soon as you see Jungkook near the front entrance of the building. He’s wearing a pair of black jackets with an oversized denim jacket and currently looking down at his phone—overall appearing so tall and pretty and otherworldly. For a brief second, you are taken by the fact that for the next four days, he’ll be yours. 

Jungkook looks up as soon as he hears the door opening and he smiles. “Hey you.” 

You smile, albeit a little lopsided and dreamy. “Hi.” 

Jungkook walks towards you immediately. “Here, let me help you with that.” He reaches a hand out and gently takes the handle of your suitcase before you can say anything. Just as he’s taking the suitcase from you, Karly emerges from the building. “Oh, sorry about that.” 

Karly waves him off. “Don’t be. I’m Y/N’s roommate—I’m just here to see her off.” 

Jungkook stares at her for a moment, then he snaps his fingers. “Wait, I remember you. You went to college with us too.” He jerks his chin towards you. “You hung out with Y/N a lot, right?” 

“Yeah, I’m Karly.” She holds out her hand for Jungkook to shake. “And you’re right, she and I hung out a lot. We were roommates back then too.” 

Jungkook nods in understanding, before shoving his hand into his pocket. His other hand is still holding onto your suitcase. “Well, I promise to take good care of Y/N.” 

Karly smacks her teeth against the side of her mouth as she points at him. “You’re a good man, Jungkook.” She pauses for a moment, seeming to contemplate a new thought. You recognize the look immediately, and your fingers twitch as if you want to strangle her. Or at least let her know you’re throwing her a look of murderous intent. But of course, Karly doesn’t see it. And even if she had, you doubt she’d care. “But no funny business, alright.” 

You gape at her. “Karly!” 

Jungkook coughs at that. “I-It’s just a drive—y-you don’t need to worry about that.” He does, however, turn away to hide the red that dusts his cheeks. 

As soon as Jungkook’s back is facing you, you whirl around to shoot Karly with a glare. “Karly, you’re lucky I’m leaving for the next four days or I would not hesitate to figure out how to make stuffocation look like an accident!” You hiss out between teeth without taking a breath. 

Karly glares right back. “You’re really dumb, aren’t you? The fact that he recognizes me because he saw you hanging out with me on campus doesn’t strike any chords? Even though, like you said, you guys weren’t really friends?” 

You blink. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Karly widens her eyes. “What the fuck do you mean? Are you dumb with all the boys or just Jungkook?” 

“What do you mean!” You snap back. 

“So, Y/N, ready to go?” 

You whirl back around to find Jungkook now standing in front of you and Karly. He must have finished packing your suitcase in the trunk of his car and is now looking over at you with a tilt in his head. 

So you force a smile. “Of course,” You say, turning to Karly. “I was just saying bye to my roommate.” 

He nods in understanding, sparing one more glance at Karly before seeming to decide against it because he looks away. He’s still a little red at Karly’s previous comment. “We should get going then.” 

“Sure.” You look over at your roommate. “See you, bitch.” 

Karly waves back, grinning wildly. You just know she has several other thoughts she’d like to share with you, but has probably deemed you embarrassed enough. Lucky for you, she keeps her mouth shut. 

Unlucky for you, without Karly to be a barrier of distraction, this leaves you alone with Jungkook. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, still not yet processing the weight of what you’ve just agreed to. You fiddle alone for a second before Jungkook is opening the driver’s side and shifting into his seat. 

There is a silence as Jungkook is starting the car, and a part of you wants to die. Or at least have the ground swallow you whole. Holy fuck, what did you just sign up for? 

Your mind somehow takes five seconds to turn into complete shambles that you almost miss Jungkook’s question. 

“Here, I’m giving you an important mission,” Jungkook says, rummaging through the various chords that lay over the center console before producing an aux cord. “Should you choose to accept.” 

He’s got on such a serious expression you momentarily forget about your anxiety. His usage of the iconic line from Mission Impossible makes you laugh—a breathy sort of noise that escapes when your mind is too full. You still take the aux cord. “Oh my god—ever heard of bluetooth?” 

He pouts. “It hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re already insulting my beautiful Celia!” 

You raise both your eyebrows. “Celia?” 

“Yeah, that’s the name of my car.” He catches the bewildered look you give him before angling himself back to face the steering wheel, where he shifts his console into drive and makes a turn onto the main street. “If you’re already weirded out by the fact I have a name for my baby, then you’re in for a very long four days, Miss. Y/N.” 

You giggle, feeling that distraction of nerves start to come off your shoulders. “Not weird at all.” You pause. “Ryan is the name of my car.” 

“Ah!” He holds one arm out in a grand gesture. “You see, not so strange after all.” He steals a glance at you, watching as you’re about to connect your phone to the aux cord. “Wait!” He says, pointing a finger at you. 

You look up at him, wide eyes. 

He’s still holding an arm up. “How’s your music taste?” 

You’re still giving him your surprised expression. “You scared me!” 

He laughs, returning his hand back to the steering wheel. “Sorry, sorry. I have to ask though—I’d rather know now than later, so I can kick you out and not feel as bad about it.” 

Your laughter seems to melt away the last of your nervous energy. “Nice to know you’re putting all your cards out now.” You look down at your phone. “Regarding my music taste… it’s whatever you want dude! I have some lo-fi on here, some pop, alternative, Broadway, anime openings… an ‘everything’ playlist. Honestly, the world is your oyster.” 

“How about we start with your ‘everything’ playlist,” Jungkook suggests. “That way I can judge you immediately.” 

“Were you always this charming, Jeon Jungkook?” You retort. “Or has graduation changed you?” 

“Oh, I’ve always been this charming—you just never noticed.” 

That comment, however, goes over your head as you focus down on your playlist. You look over, selecting the shuffle option as Taylor Swift’s soft music from her newest album fills the air. Another silence fills the car, but it’s much more peaceful and comfortable. You allow yourself to settle further into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. 

“So,” You start after a moment. Jungkook hums to let you know he’s paying attention. “What inspired the name Celia?” 

Jungkook brightens at the question. “She was this character from a book I read when I was younger. The Night Circus? Anyways, the book is about these two illusionists who try to one up each other with their skills of magic, but they end up falling in love. Celia is the name of one of those illusionists.” 

You grin. “Sounds like a very cute crush.” 

Jungkook grins back. 

The drive out of the city continues like this. The pair of you cover the topic of books, of music, of your favorite animes. Jungkook just has this magical power of ensuring the tension dissipates from your mind and stays gone—whether it’s through his relaxed nature or easy-going teasing or his ability to ease the conversation from one topic to the next. It feels like every conversation you and Jungkook had in college, whether vague or circling around classes, all have led up to this moment. It seems like everytime you or Jungkook run out of things to talk about pertaining to a certain topic, you would bring up memories from college and just continue from there. Everything feels natural. 

It continues to feel natural even as you and Jungkook slowly start to see the edges of the city landscape fade away. The high rises fade into shorter buildings and smaller business areas that surround the bustling city scene. You watch as those buildings and business areas become rows of houses. Residential areas in the suburbs, passing by the occasional school or corner restaurants. 

“Before we enter the wide unknown,” Jungkook starts up, breaking the quiet that has enveloped the car. “You want to pick up lunch? You hungry?” 

You haven’t even realized how much time has gone by until you look at the clock on Jungkook’s dashboard and notice that it’s past noon. You widen your eyes at the sight. “Wow, I didn’t even realize so much time had passed.” 

“Yeah, we drove through a few cities. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” 

“You wish,” You tease, sticking your tongue out. “So, what, do we stop at a Cheesecake factory or something?” 

Jungkook blinks. “I thought you were poor—why would we stop at the Cheesecake factory? And why is that the first restaurant that comes to your mind?” 

You wave your hands. “It was just a suggestion!” 

“Well, I’m realizing that I should probably let you know that the motel I picked for us to drive to tonight is pretty far out—Google Maps says we probably won’t get there until midnight, and that’s with us driving straight through.” 

“Midnight? Fuck, Jungkook. Will we make it to the wedding a day early or something?” 

“Ha, ha, no. I’ll go over the schedule I planned out tomorrow. Basically, I want to try and cover most of our ground on the first day so we can take the rest of the trip easy. But I thought I’d let you know now that sitting in a restaurant probably won’t be the most time responsible idea.” 

“That’s true.” You look out the window again and see the golden arches of McDonalds appear within your line of sight. “Let’s just stop at McDonalds.” 

Jungkook follows your gaze. “Alright, down. Let’s do it.” 

He exits off the freeway, following down a route that takes him almost immediately towards the McDonalds parking lot. Since this restaurant is still within the lines of the city, it’s not completely deserted. There are a few cars in the parking lot, even fewer cars in the drive-through line. Because of this, ordering the food only takes a few minutes. Both of you get chicken nuggets, sodas, and large orders of french fries. 

“You know, we’re really living like kings,” You comment as Jungkook drives out and makes his way back onto the freeway. “College graduates, both somehow able to secure a job, and still ordering chicken mcnuggets.” 

Jungkook shrugs. “I wasn’t told this is what adulthood would be like. But I’m not complaining. My 10-year-old self is singing in so much joy right now.” He says this as he’s stuffing a handful of fries into your mouth. You laugh, and hand him a napkin. 

You turn the music back on. The pair of you silently munch on your chicken nuggets, as you angle your head towards the side window once again. As Jungkook drives, the numbers of structural spaces become more scattered the longer you both continue down the freeway. 

The anime opening to Haikyuu starts playing when you turn back to Jungkook and realize that he’s trying to close the box of his chicken nuggets. You move right away, taking the cardboard from him and closing it yourself. “Let me know if you need anything, Jungkook. Think of me as your co-pilot.” 

He laughs gently. “Is that the rule of the passenger seat?” 

You shrug, putting the empty box into the McDonalds bag near your feet. “For me at least. Everytime I do one of these drives with family, the person in the passenger seat has to open the snacks, make conversation, and always stay awake with the driver. It’s just courtesy.”

Jungkook is smiling softly now, mostly to himself, but it lights the corners of his eyes that makes you momentarily unable to look away. “You wanna tell me about your family?” 

So you do. Your voice becomes softer as you continue, but Jungkook listens to every single word you say. 

True to his observation, it’s not long before the pair of you are surrounded by the wide unknown. Houses in the suburbs become farmhouses and farms. Conversations fade from your family to another comfortable silence as you continue gazing out the window. Jungkook requests your lo-fi playlist at some point, filling the car with the soft and distorted hums. It allows your mind to wander as you stare out the window. The empty stretches of land around you are filled with greenery, with mountains, cutting right through the perfect blue of the sky above you. 

By 4:00PM, your entire body is starting to feel the ache of having been seated for long hours on end. You feel the tightness in the muscles of your thigh, the bones in your knees. 

Jungkook must be feeling the same, because as soon as a sign for a rest stop comes on, he exits the freeway and pulls into a large parking lot. There’s a restroom on the side, but the area is surrounded by trees with mountains standing in the background. 

Jungkook stops the car. “We should get out for a bit to move our legs.” 

You’re already tugging on the latch that’ll open the car door. “I’m already feeling it in my knees.” You open the door and immediately extend your legs out onto the solid ground beneath you. You let out a sigh of satisfaction, and Jungkook laughs from next to you. 

He’s opening his own car door soon after, but he straightens up into a standing position pretty quickly and stretches upwards. He closes the car door behind him, watching as you eventually pull yourself together to do the same. 

You turn to face Jungkook. “I’m gonna use the restroom.” You gesture towards the building and earn a nod from Jungkook, who mentions something about doing the same thing. You meet back at the car a few minutes later. 

Jungkook gestures to the trees surrounding the parking lot. “Want to take a walk around the area? Keep the blood flowing to our legs.” 

You nod. “That sounds like a good idea.” 

“Why don’t you get started. I’ll catch up.” Jungkook watches you leave, before opening the trunk of his car and rummaging around. 

He does catch up with you, quickly enough that you hardly notice that he had sent you out first. You hear his footsteps, and the call of your name. You turn around. “Jungkook!” 

The sight before you makes you waver slightly, as bouts of shyness overtake you. Standing before you is Jungkook, with his camera in hand. The lens is pointed right at you. As soon as you’re staring straight into the camera, Jungkook grins. “Say hi!” 

You whine, whirling back around and covering your face. “Are you filming me right now?” 

“I’m a photographer at heart, what did you expect?” Jungkook teases back. “Besides, it’s really pretty around here. You think I won’t film it?” 

You snort, starting your walk around the parking lot. “Oh yeah, because there aren’t any parking lots and trees and bathroom stops at home.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “That’s not what I meant.” 

You turn to stare right into the lens of his camera. “Then the mountains, right?” 

He’s quiet for another second. “Sure.” He does, however, sound a little disappointed. You do not notice this. 

The pair of you stay quiet as you make your round around the parking lot, taking in the mountains from different angles. The walk around is mostly just to rid of the sensation of your legs falling off, but it’s still a nice view to admire. As soon as you finish a complete round, you and Jungkook return back to the car. You watch as he carefully places his camera into his camera bag before you’re both back in your seats. 

Jungkook turns to you. “Ready to get going again?” He looks at the control panel behind his steering wheel. “We’ll probably have to stop for gas in a few hours. But after that, it’s straight to the hotel.” 

You settle back into the passenger seat. “I guess we already have our dinner plans then.” You’re referring to the gas station. 

Jungkook grins. “I’m down for that.” 

And so, the trip continues back on the freeway. With the lo-fi playing in the background, you watch as the sun tears through the blue sky, as the sun finally begins it’s dip to the other side. The singular color once spread across the pane of atmosphere now conjugates around the sun crawling behind the mountain—creating a diffusion of new colors. The corner of the mountain emits an explosion of oranges, pinks, and purples. 

You lift your head from the window, eyes taking in the rainbow of pastels around the now fading sun. “Wow, Jungkook, look at that sunset.” 

He snorts. “You wanna talk about things that you can’t see back in the city?” 

You pout. “But it looks so pretty, see!” You keep gesturing towards the sunset. 

Jungkook relents just enough to spare a glance in the direction. He hums. “Yeah, it’s pretty.” He looks back at the road. “Can’t really find a view like that in the city.” 

You spend a little more time admiring the sunset than Jungkook does, for obvious reasons. You’ve seen a sunset plenty of times before in the past, but the context of this whole situation makes you unable to look away from it. You’re really out here, stuck in a car with someone you have never hung out with for longer than a few minutes. But you are enjoying yourself. There's peace in that. 

So you watch until the sun dips below the mountain, momentarily leaving the sky in a navy color. 

The next time Jungkook speaks, the area around you is much darker, and the sky is nearly black. “You hungry now?” 

You lift your head from the seat, not even realizing you were drifting off. You’re thinking about Irene, wondering if you should have texted her directly congratulating her on the wedding rather than just simply sending in the RSVP. “Sure. We eat as the car eats, right?” 

Jungkook smiles, a gesture you can barely make out from the headlines. “Of course.” 

This goes on for a few more miles until the sign for a gas station comes up. A few other cars linger near the dispensers. Jungkook parks near his choice and gets out of the car. You follow behind him. He’s already sliding his credit card into the machine, and the sight makes you reach over to grab his wrist. 

“I should pay, you’ve been driving all day!” 

He shakes his head, waving you off. “We’ll take turns, okay?” He looks at you. “Buy me dinner tonight too, that sound fair?” 

You pout, leaning back as you cross your arms. “Not really, but I guess I’ll have to accept it.” 

He grins. “You are correct.” 

As soon as the gas pump alerts you of the filled tank, Jungkook returns the pump back to the machine and locks his car. Together, the two of you make your way towards the convenience store, where the bell above rings to alert the workers of your presence. Nods are exchanged as you and Jungkook tear through the aisles to find anything that could satisfy your cravings. You return back with family size bags of hot cheetos and beef jerky, while Jungkook holds his selection of roasted seaweed and Doritos. You select your drinks together before returning to the cashier. 

It’s nearing 9:00PM as you and Jungkook return back to his car, where you slide back into your seats and immediately tear into your bags of salt and sodium. 

“How are you doing?” You ask as Jungkook finishes his first bag of roasted seaweed. 

Jungkook pulls out his phone, scrolling through the final stretch needed to reach the hotel. “Yeah, about four more hours to the motel.” He looks over at you. “I’m good. The salt in this seaweed really helps. How are you doing?” 

You nod immediately. “Great. Perfect.” 

He smiles, shifting his console to drive and pulling out of the gas station. “I’m used to these weird hours. Remember how I told you I traveled around a bit with Mingyu and Wonwoo? There was this one day we only slept for an hour or something? It sucked, I think I almost passed out that day. But yeah, this is honestly not even that bad.” He turns to look at you. “I think the good company helps, too.” 

You roll your eyes, grinning. “You flatter me, Jeon.” 

Slowly, 8PM turns into 10PM. One glance at Google maps tells you that you’re still two hours from the hotel. Even though you’re not the one driving, and although you haven’t endured any physical activity that could result in this exhaustion, you still find yourself growing tired. Something about sitting under the sun, sitting in a vehicle that rocks side to side with a consistent hum—it makes your mind work slowly and therefore brings out the sleepiness quicker. 

You settle deeper into your seat. 

Jungkook giggles from next to you. “You tired already?” 

You pout slowly, eyes closed just enough. “I’m not a morning person and you made me wake up at 8!” 

“Sure, sure, of course.” 

There’s a pause. 

You ponder a question for a moment. It’s something that you would never dare ask Jungkook if you had been more awake and more alert. But you’re tired, and your defenses are lowered, and it means you are more prone to asking questions. “Hey, Jungkook? Did you have any girlfriends when we were in college?” 

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. “Where’s this coming from?” He asks instead. 

You shrug, making a dismissive noise as your shoulders rise up. “Curiosity.” 

A pause. “I went on a few dates, but I never had a serious relationship.” 

“No way.” You lift your head up from the seat. “But I remember seeing you hang out with the occasional girl in the quad, or at some restaurants around the school.” 

Jungkook smiles. It’s hard to read the look in his eyes. They’re focused on the road in front of him, but they seem almost hazy and faraway. “Like I said, I went on a few dates. I did really want to get into a long term relationship in college. A lot of my friends had them, that’s where my parents met, so I was really open to the idea of at least experimenting. There were a lot of girls that I thought were nice, easy-going, or just really pretty, so I tried my hand in the whole dating thing.” 

“And it didn’t work out?” You coax out gently. 

“Not really,” He continues. He steals a glance at you. “We’d go on a few dates, but none of them ever felt substantial. I think girls see me and have a certain expectation—an expectation I couldn’t meet. So I never could picture myself in a long term relationship with any of them.” 

You tilt your head towards him. “There must have been someone…” 

“Well… there was one girl.” Jungkook starts after a moment. He’s not looking at you this time. “We had a few classes together earlier—we weren’t in the same major program. I don’t even know if I’d say we were close or anything. We just had a few classes and saw each other around on occasion. But the conversations we did have during class or outside of class just felt more real. Honestly, I could have been totally wrong about her. I could have just been blinded by all these expectations I was putting on her, which is ironic. But she was the only person I could actually see myself being in a long term relationship with. Or at least try.” 

You hum, still facing towards him in your seat. “Why didn’t you try anything then? You’re a good guy, Jungkook. I’m sure she would have wanted to try with you too.” 

“I guess I was just afraid of pushing it and scaring her off. I thought it was better to stay friends with her than try to pursue something. She never gave me an indication that she felt the same.” 

“And how do you feel now?” 

There’s a pause this time. “I don’t know honestly. We remained friends up until graduation but, uh, never saw her again. I do wonder from time to time how she’s doing.” 

“You should reach out to her,” You advise softly. “Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird.” You grin at him. “You need to make your move.” 

It is then that Jungkook turns to look at you. He looks for a little longer this time, eyes focused entirely on you. Underneath the small crescent of the moon above, you are still able to make out his facial features. His cheeks, his nose, his eyes—the latter is glimmering, like he knows something that you don’t. 

“I’m working on that,” He mumbles softly. You turn your head back towards the road. 

. 

You wake up the next morning feeling groggy, dirty, and messy. Your head lifts up from a pillow you can only vaguely remember falling on, laying on top of a bed you only vaguely remember throwing yourself in. There’s sunlight pouring into the room, but it feels like early morning sun. There’s a crisp in the air that you can feel, that you see out of the window. Right outside is the gathering of bushes and trees, a bright blue sky.

You are in the motel. 

Slowly, you push yourself into a sitting position, until you’re resting atop the white linen of your bed. Across the room, snuggled in his own twin bed, is Jungkook. His lashes are fanning across his cheekbones, his lips are parted, and his breathing is slow and soft.

It isn’t until Jungkook shifts in bed that you realize you’ve been watching him like a creep. Hastily, you tear your gaze away and decide to focus your gaze down. You notice immediately that you are not underneath the blankets. Instead, you are lying underneath Jungkook’s jacket. 

You roll the jacket off your frame, discovering that you are still in last night’s clothes—which explains why you were feeling so groggy and discombobulated. You look across the floor of the hotel room. Your suitcase is near the foot of your bed, and your phone sits on your nightstand connected to your charger. 

Vaguely, you recall what had happened the previous night—how Jungkook drove into the hotel room nearing midnight and the exhaustion was so overpowering that you and Jungkook blindly asked for any room with two twin beds before following through and practically collapsing into your respected beds. 

You definitely did that, which explains why you were on top of the bed, why you’re still in yesterday’s clothes, and why Jungkook’s jacket was your blanket. Stealing another glance at Jungkook: underneath the blankets and in a different t-shirt—you can assume that he was able to take a shower before lying down. 

With a sigh, you push off Jungkook’s jacket and lay it down on the bed next to you. Hoping not to disturb Jungkook, you slide out of bed and lower your suitcase to the ground. After fishing out a new set of clothes, you decide to take a shower. 

The warmth from the shower is the best breath of fresh air you’ve gotten since hitting the road with Jungkook. It feels like your body is going through a battery recharge, and it’s one you take your time with. You step out of the shower, running the towel through your hair and drying yourself enough to slip on your outfit for the day. The towel is thrown around your neck as you step out of the shower, letting the steam follow you out of the bathroom. 

Jungkook is still sleeping as you step out, which is good otherwise you’d feel bad for having disturbed his sleep time. After all the driving he did yesterday, you figure he deserves a few extra hours regardless of what the schedule calls for. 

You continue running the towel through your hair as you pick up your phone. Strangely, you do not remember connecting it to a charger before knocking out, but you pick it up regardless to see the 9:00AM time across your screen. 

There’s a quiet that takes over, in which you’re sitting perched comfortably on your bed and scrolling through your phone as Jungkook continues to drift a few feet away from you. 

About thirty minutes seem to pass before Jungkook is moaning softly to himself, letting out a puff of air as he slowly opens his eyes. His arms extend above him, knocking into the headboard and making him curse softly to himself. His eyes open as he lowers his hands to inspect the damage before immediately looking over towards you. 

He blinks, a tired smile overtaking his lips as he arches his back into a stretch. “Hey,” He greets, voice rough and scratchy and making your heart clench. Damn thing. “You’re awake. You knocked out pretty quickly as soon as we got the room.” 

You laugh. “Yeah, I honestly figured that.” You pick up his jacket, as if he hadn’t been the one to lay it on you those hours ago. “Thanks for trying to help me get comfortable.” You gesture towards the nightstand. “Did you find my charger too?” 

Jungkook sits up as he continues a small round of stretches and yawns. “I did,” He says. “You were barely coherent, but made enough sense to tell me where it was in your bag. Sorry for going through it, by the way.” 

You shake your head, waving him off. “No worries. Thank you again, Jungkook.” 

The pair of you stare at each other for a few moments, before that silence is broken by Jungkook’s phone going off. You look down as Jungkook snatches his own phone off the nightstand. He scrolls through something, before placing it back. 

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You ask, bringing your fingers through your hair to comb and give you a distraction. 

“Oh! Right.” Jungkook swings his legs off the side of the bed. “We have a slower day today. The hotel I picked is only about five hours away? We’re driving through the mountains today, so there’s this place I want to visit that has a little restaurant and everything. It’ll be a cute pit stop.” 

You nod. “Awesome, okay.” You curl your fingers around the strands of now loose strands of hair. 

It takes another hour until you and Jungkook are packed up again and ready to leave. A quick stop to the lobby provides both of you with a bagel and cup of coffee each as your breakfast. All before you’re once again sliding into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. 

You roll your shoulders before clicking your seatbelt in. “Ready for another long day?” 

“Of course.” He digs through his center console, producing his aux cord. “Your mission,” He says dramatically, not unlike yesterday. “Should you choose to accept.” 

You laugh gently, taking the cord. “You in love with Mission Impossible or something? This is the second time in two days you’re quoting it to me.” 

And this is how your day starts off—talks of Mission Impossible films that bleed into conversations about movies. 

The day at 10 o’clock in the morning is bright and blue as Jungkook drives back onto the freeway and continues down the road. The first few hours consist of the surrounding flatland, of green grass and high mountains all around. Conversations between you and Jungkook are a little more scattered today, but there’s a new level of comfort about the situation. With both of you well rested, it invites a more relaxed atmosphere as you pass the occasional joke or story time between the pair of you. 

As the sun continues to travel higher in the sky, Jungkook’s car starts it’s approach up the mountain. The trees start enveloping the pair of you into a newer, higher world. Not only that, but whenever you and Jungkook reach a clearing, it exposes a dip of lakes, grass, and mountains. And you, always having enjoyed the views of nature, keep an open eye for every single thing. 

You see Jungkook’s choice of destination before he does, and you gasp excitedly. 

Up ahead is a cloud of pink, white, and red flowers covering an entire mountain side. There is an occasional pop of cedar trees amongst the covering of pink, white, and red, but the colors are so poignant that it captures your attention immediately. 

You point to it. “Is that where we’re going?” 

Jungkook grins. “Surprise!” He’s selected this spot before offering the invitation to let you come along, but you’re not complaining. You’ve never been to a flower farm before, despite having heard about them and seen pictures of them for most of your childhood. You continue to watch with wide eyes and bright smiles as Jungkook drives closer and closer to the destination, finally parking in the appropriate lot after paying the fee. 

You’re practically vibrating in your seat with excitement. “Jungkook, Jungkook, c’mon let’s go, let’s go!” You push on the latch and nearly tumble out onto the ground. You straighten to stand on your feet, before meeting Jungkook near the trunk of his car. Surprise, surprise, he pulls out his camera and loops the strap over his head. 

He’s grinning as he closes the trunk. “You’re a little excited, aren’t you?” 

“A little?” You echo, clapping your hands, seemingly unable to wipe the grin off your face. “Jungkook, this is a flower farm! It’s so exciting!” 

So you dart off with Jungkook following closely behind you. The parking lot is located at the top of the flower farm, so the tour around the fields is a downwards one towards the bottom. A small pathway maps out a route for you to follow as you take in the various lines of flowers and colors. One short glimpse at the brochure tells you that these are spring flowers, and that you and Jungkook are visiting during the perfect season. You and Jungkook continue through your makeshift tour in silence, taking in the flowers as well as the view that extends out far beyond your line of sight while Jungkook snaps photographs behind you. Words don’t need to be said when everything around you says it all. 

At the bottom of the field is a cafe, a small brick building with an outdoor seating area facing the now upward flower display. You and Jungkook order sandwiches and soda, and take your seats outside as you wait for your number to be called. There are a fair amount of people today at the field, most of which you can see ahead roaming through the flowers ahead. 

“Have you ever been to a flower farm before?” Jungkook asks, as he glances over at you to see how bright your expression is. 

You smile as you turn to him. “No, never. But thank you for bringing me here, it’s beautiful here.” 

Jungkook smiles, looking a little smug. He looks proud of himself. “I’ve always wanted to come here, so I’m glad I was able to bring you along.” It looks like he wants to say more, but the number that rests between Jungkook’s fingers is called out, interrupting the conversation. He returns a moment later with the food. “I actually wanted to ask you something,” He says, taking the sandwich plate off the tray and placing it in front of you. 

You take the napkins that are being offered to you. “What’s up?” 

He settles down into his seat. “I didn’t get to return the question that you asked me last night.” 

It takes you a second to realize what he’s referring to. Immediately, you feel yourself turn red as you press your lips together. You were definitely drowsy last night, and hadn’t put too much consideration in the aftermath of asking Jungkook about his college relationships. You instead try for a laugh, as you wave him off. “Well, you don’t need to ask me. It’s pretty boring.” 

“Nonsense,” Jungkook brushes off, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So tell me, did you get into any relationships in college?” 

You laugh, albeit a little nervously. “No, not really. I never even went on any dates before—I guess, like you, I just couldn’t see myself in any long term relationship with anyone that seemed to like me.” 

“Well, how about crushes on your end? Did you like anyone?” 

You gaze over at Jungkook—taking in his wide curious eyes, his soft voice, his contagious laugh. The memories of him waving at you in class, of him catching up to you afterwards to continue previous conversations, of him going out of his way to say hi to you in the library. Jungkook has always been thoughtful, considerate, and soft along the edges. How could you not have crushed on him during college? 

And how could you not continue to have these lingering feelings for him afterwards? 

You think about your own advice you had given to Jungkook. You should reach out to her. Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird. You need to make your move. Could you even follow your own advice? 

You look down before Jungkook could start asking questions about your staring. “There was this one guy,” You start, trying for an uneasy laugh. “But I don’t think he ever noticed me. Well, that’s a lie. I guess we were kind of friends? I think it’s more along the lines of me being out of his league.” 

“That’s depressing,” Jungkook notes as he finishes his sandwich. You hardly even noticed him inhaling the thing. “How could you be out of a guy’s league? You’re so smart and funny and easy to talk to—if anything, a guy would probably be out of your league.” He leans forward, bringing you close enough where you can clearly make out the mole underneath his lip. “Tell me about this punk. So I can tell you he’s not good enough for you.” 

You laugh, keeping your gaze on him. You doubt he’d be so confident had he known about ‘this punk’. “He isn’t a punk,” You remark quietly. “He’s really nice, and really sweet. I was pretty quiet in college. Definitely introverted and kept to myself and had a hard time making friends. Although I would have honestly barely considered him a friend, he just made me feel like my time was meaningful and my attention was valuable to him.” Jungkook’s eyes continue to bore into yours. “If anything, I just wish he knew how much I admire him.” 

Jungkook’s gaze is unwavering across your face, once again displaying that unreadable expression. Yet, despite that, something glimmers in his eyes and he seems to come to an understanding you yourself don’t know about. That glimmer keeps swimming across the orbs, even as he switches his gaze between your eyes. They flicker down to your lips for a second, and your heart stutters in your chest. 

Jungkook coughs, pulling away from you as he seems to hyper-focus his attention on the soda still in front of him. He looks shy as he steals another glance at you from across the table. “He might not have made you feel that important if you were too scared to tell him how you felt.” 

You look down at your sandwich and take another bite. Something about the way he’s staring holes into the side of your face tells you that he knows something that you don’t. You wonder what he’s thinking. 

Jungkook wears that thoughtful expression for the rest of the visit to the flower field, as the pair of you return back to his car and slide back in your seats. He stays quiet as you resume the trip, slowly making your way back onto the freeway and towards your second motel. 

This kind of quiet is different than the previous silences the pair of you have grown to share over the past twenty-four hours. Unlike the comfortable moments of unspoken words, this is more tense. Like he knows something that you don’t. 

You don’t know what to say, or how to break that silence. You don’t know if perhaps you said something you shouldn’t have, or said something to make him uncomfortable. All of those thoughts are not pleasant ones. 

Jungkook stays quiet for most of the drive through the mountain. The music you have selected is loud enough that seems to drown the tense atmosphere, but the questions still press themselves deeply into your mind. What is he thinking about? 

And worse of all: did he know you were talking about him? 

You and Jungkook only speak a handful of times during the trip. He asks you if you need to use the restroom, if you’re hungry, and if you could play him your favorite anime openings. The pair of you have a handful of laughs about your mutual love for Haikyuu and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but most of the drive to the motel is ridden out in silence. 

The pair of you reach the hotel around dinnertime, definitely nowhere as exhausted as you had been the previous night, but just as eager to finally reach your destination. The tension between you and Jungkook has eased slightly, so you can only assume that perhaps he has overcome whatever was bothering him. You yourself have pushed the thought of Jungkook knowing the truth out of your mind. After all, if he had known, you assume he would have brought it up. Or at least called for an Uber to send you home. You assume you would have provided some sort of reaction for the two of you to talk about. But alas, those thoughts follow a conversation that has not happened, and will probably never happen, because you’re sure that you’ll never have to be in a situation that forces your feelings to go out of control once again—! 

“Hi,” Jungkook returns to the hotel clerk behind the desk, a girl to be about your age, who is flickering her gaze between you and Jungkook. A flicker in her eyes tells you that she already has multiple thoughts and assumptions about your relationship. “Do you have a room with two beds?” 

“Oh!” The girl blinks, momentarily looking taken aback. “Of course, let me check.” She turns her attention to the computer screen in front of her. Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m sorry sir, we only have rooms with one bed available—either a full, queen, or king-size mattress.” 

Jungkook makes a noise in the back of his throat as he taps his credit card on the desk. Just watching from the side, you notice how he swallows, how he looks down, how his cheeks turn red. He turns to you after a moment. “D-Do you, uh, do you mind?” 

It takes you a second to realize what Jungkook is asking. He’s asking if you’d be okay with sharing a bed with him. Him: your college crush, the guy you never really lost feelings for. 

You turn red too. “U-Um…” You press your lips together and swallow. “S-Sure,” You manage, waving your hands out in front of you. “I-I don’t mind. I-If you don’t mind, of course.” 

“I-I don’t mind either.” Jungkook, however, looks like he’s about to combust. He looks a little lost again. He blinks once, twice, and seems to realize that he’s supposed to hand the woman behind the desk his card. “Uh, whichever room is the cheapest.” 

“That’ll be the room with the full-size bed.” She flickers her gaze between the two of you. “If that’s okay.” 

“O-Of course,” He stammers back, allowing the girl to take the card. He looks at you. “Do you mind staying here? I have to go to the bathroom real quick.” 

“S-Sure, go ahead.” A part of you wants to hit your head on the desk. What is happening to you? Why is the mere thought of sharing a bed with Jungkook turning you into a pile of mush? You’re a grown ass woman—! 

“So the two of you on vacation or something?” The woman behind the desk asks. She’s still in the middle of scanning Jungkook’s credit card. 

You try for a smile. “Kind of, we’re going to a friend’s wedding.” 

“I see, that sounds fun.” She smiles. “You know, I have to be honest, I was a little surprised he asked for two beds. You guys would make a cute couple.” 

At the label, you start to turn red. “O-Oh n-no, we’re not a couple at all. That’s very flattering, b-but yeah we’re not together.” 

“Oh, I know,” The girl rebuffs. Her smile looks more like a grin. She places Jungkook’s credit card on the desk, along with a receipt and a pen. “I hope the full size bed will change that.” She gives you a wink. 

You part your lips, unsure what to make of the situation. “What—!” 

“I’m back,” Jungkook says, sliding up from behind you and making you jump slightly. “What did I miss?” 

“Uh…” You wonder if your face is too red or not. It certainly feels that way. “Here!” You push him forward towards the desk. “She scanned your credit card. You just need to sign and we’ll be on our way.” 

If Jungkook notices the stiffness in your posture, he doesn’t comment as he leans forward to sign the receipt. Just over Jungkook’s shoulder is the worker, looking at you with a now shit-eating grin across her lips. Several questions ping through your mind, but you don’t get to ask any of those because Jungkook is turning around with his credit card in hand. 

“Uh, ready to get going?” 

“Sure!” You say, voice a few several pitches higher and you return to wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Jungkook leads the way out of the lobby, and you dare one last glance back towards the woman behind the counter. 

She’s waving a slip of paper in her hand. 

You turn back to Jungkook. “Hey Jungkook, give me a second. I think we forgot to grab something at the desk.” 

It sort of feels like a walk of shame to reach the worker behind the counter, who is still grinning at the sight of you and your internal struggles. She hands you the slip of paper, mouths something that makes you go red, before you’re turning back towards Jungkook. “Good luck,” She had whispered. 

Before you’re reaching Jungkook, you open the paper. At the very top is the WiFi password. 

Underneath the WiFi password, in what you can only assume is her handwriting, is one sentence. Fate said you guys only get one bed- don’t worry, I think he likes you too :-) 

“What was that about?” Jungkook asks. 

You shove the paper into your pocket. “The WiFi password,” You supply. 

The walk to the hotel room is quiet as Jungkook leads the way through the different hallways, corridors, and numbers on plaques. That tense silence is back as he guides the two of you, stopping only when he reaches the number that matches the one on the index card. He gives you a look, and inserts the card key into the slot. The door beeps, and he pushes open the door to find, true to the word of the lady behind the counter, one full-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

For the first few hours, it’s easy to ignore that full-sized elephant in the room. Jungkook takes out his laptop and you guys watch your favorite season of Haikyuu together—it’s season two—or you guys linger about on your phones. It isn’t until nighttime falls into your bones, into your minds, that you realize that you really need to address the new situation. 

“I’m gonna take a shower first, if that’s okay,” You say, already sliding off the bed to gather your belongings from your suitcase. Jungkook is humming along to the Haikyuu ending song, but he stops long enough to accept you taking the first shower. He watches you as you fish pajamas out from your suitcase. “Hey, Jungkook…” You start. “Are you sure you’re cool with this?” You gesture to the bed. “I can sleep on the floor. They give you extra bedding for a reason…” 

“What? No, of course not, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” He moves until his knees are pressed into the mattress. “And I’m cool with this. Promise.” He hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Y-Yeah,” You manage, straightening into a standing position with your clothes in hand. “I don’t really move around when I’m sleeping. And I trust you, Jungkook.” You keep your gaze on each other until you break it first, turning around to step into the bathroom. 

You step out many minutes later, hair freshly washed and feeling much more relaxed than before. Jungkook has moved to the desk in the corner of the hotel room, typing away at some emails on his laptops. He does, however, whirl around upon hearing you exit the bathroom. The sight of you in your sweats, t-shirt, and damp hair makes his eyes linger. 

You merely tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can go now,” You say quietly. 

Jungkook nods. “Thanks.” 

Breaking that eye contact again, you turn to the bed and lift the blankets to slide under the covers. You rest your head on the pillow, and immediately start to drift away. 

You are brought back after what only feels like a few minutes, when you hear a light switch turn off followed by the blanket next to you lifting up. You turn slightly towards the other side of the bed. “Jungkook?” You whisper. 

A stillness. “Ah shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to be sneaky.” 

“Mmm…” You mumble softly, turning your body 180 degrees in order to face him. You can vaguely make out the shadow of Jungkook’s outline. “Don’t worry. I’m a really light sleeper. Come on in.” 

There is a shift in the blankets until you feel the additional weight of Jungkook’s figure crawling in next to you. The knowledge that Jungkook is lying right next to you turns your blood hot both with anxiety and because Jungkook brings in a new wave of heat underneath the covers. For a cool spring night, it’s comforting. But also further anxiety-inducing. 

Jungkook shifts and even though the pair of you are on opposite sides of the bed, you can still feel the warmth radiating off his body. In the silence of the hotel room, you can hear Jungkook breathing. 

“Is this okay?” It’s Jungkook asking. His voice is quiet, soothing, and very close to your face. You realize that you guys are facing each other. 

Still, you have to give an answer. “Y-Yeah,” You reply softly. “Goodnight, Jungkook.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You turn onto your back. You try to go to sleep, you really do. But your heart is pounding, and rather than the blood filling your ears, it’s the sound of Jungkook’s breathing. 

“Y/N, you still awake?” Jungkook asks softly. 

You snort. “It’s only been a minute.” 

Jungkook smiles. “Sorry. I just… I have a question. A thought, actually.” 

“What is it?” 

“Well, okay, I don’t want to come off as arrogant or self-centered, but it’s just a question and just this thought that I have…” 

“Jungkook.” You turn back to face him. “You can ask me the question. I don’t mind.” 

“Well, alright.” Jungkook shifts. He’s a little closer now, you can make out the outline of his face. Everything looks slightly more defined now, definitely a result of your eyes adjusting to the darkness. “When you were talking about the guy you had a crush on… you know, when I asked if there was someone you were interested in while we were in college.” 

“Oh, I remember.” Your heart feels fuzzy, even though you have no idea what he’s going to ask you. 

“Okay, um. I guess I just wanted to know. Were you talking about me? 

The world seems to stop tilting on its axis—and all the consequences of that follow along. Everything around you slows to a grind: your heart stops in your chest, and all the air drains out of your lungs. You hold your breath, feeling as if your body has just been dipped underwater. Thousands of thoughts ping through your mind. You feel like that episode of Spongebob where all the file cabinets in your brain are catching aflame. You suddenly feel like you have no thoughts, but too many thoughts at the same time. 

Above all, one question rises above all the rest: how did Jungkook know? 

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called. It isn’t until you feel a hand at your shoulder do you jolt. “H-Huh?” 

“S-Sorry.” Jungkook sounds a lot more nervous now. “You weren’t responding.” 

“I… I was thinking,” You reply lamely. 

A pause. “What’s your answer?” Were you talking about me?

You swallow. Should you tell the truth? Or should you deny everything with the hopes that Jungkook will forget this conversation ever existed? 

The words spill out before you can think of a proper answer. “What if I was?” 

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “Well…” He starts up again, inching forward towards you. Every move he makes is amplified in your ear, every squeak of the mattress and every rustle of clothing echoed in the small space that is your hotel room. “I’d be kinda frustrated, to be honest. Because when I was talking about my own crush, it might have been about you.” 

At Jungkook’s confession, the world seems to come crashing down on you as everything around tries to catch up to you. Immediately, you assume that perhaps you hadn’t heard Jungkook correctly, or maybe you’re completely misinterpreting what he’s trying to say to you. 

In a perfect world, maybe you’d say something witty and smart. Maybe you’d play along until he snapped. Maybe you’d be fluent in courting talk and understand exactly what he’s trying to say to you. 

But this isn’t a perfect world, and you are neither witty nor smart. You most certainly are not aware of flirtations. You need boys to be as straightforward as possible. Which is why you utter the most comprehensible: “What?” 

You feel a warmth at your hip—Jungkook’s hand against your skin. “Ahhhh.” Jungkook starts, not at all sounding fearful but rather casual. Still the underlying case of shyness, however, because this is still Jungkook. “I forgot you sometimes need simple things spelled out for you. Remember when you emailed our Arts History professor three times because you kept forgetting what font she wanted the assignment in?” 

You flush—Arts History was the class you and Jungkook were forced to pair up together for. Maybe you would have protested it more had you known Jungkook would turn out to be a little shit over it. “That was a one time thing! You’ve been bringing it up for as long as I’ve known you!” 

Jungkook giggles, pulling you closer so your face is against his collarbone and his chin rests on your shoulder. “Shh, okay, okay, I’m sorry.” 

Your face is burning at the feeling of your bodies so close together, your fingers pressed against his shirt and your nose against his skin. He smells like floral fabric softener. “Jungkook…?” You whisper softly, breath fanning his neck. 

Jungkook tilts his head to rest gently against your temple. He stays quiet for a moment, absorbing the moment. “If you did have a crush on me in college, it would be frustrating. Because I had a crush on you too.” 

This time it’s straightforward, just like how you’ve always wanted it. Why can’t you seem to reply? 

“Oh.” 

“I know.” 

You curl your fingers around Jungkook’s shirt. “What if…” You start slowly. “What if I said I still had those feelings?” 

Jungkook seems to think about his answer. “I’d say that I do too.” 

You swallow, nodding in a way that allows him to feel the movement. “Okay then.” 

Without a warning, Jungkook moves to curl his whole arm around your frame. This brings you even closer together. He noses your hairline. “Go to sleep,” He whispers softly. “We can talk about this tomorrow.” 

A part of you wants to say no—that holding off on confessions isn’t what happens in novels or tv shows or movies. But the larger part of you knows that you won’t be able to have a proper discussion like this when you are weak, tired, and vulnerable. Your heart stalls at his consideration, allowing yourself to be content just like this: asleep, cuddling with Jeon Jungkook as you’ve imagined since you first developed your crush. 

It’s much better than the fantasy. 

.

You wake up the next morning with Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, his soft breathing against your neck and his lips dusting the skin of your neck. There’s a new kind of comfort you find being held like this, and a part of you wants to melt back into his arms. You think you can pretend to be asleep just to stay here a little longer, but the urgency you have to pee and get the day started becomes too pressing. 

Your previous assumptions of Jungkook being a heavy sleeper are confirmed as you manage to untangle yourself from him without so much as a whine from his end. By the time you finish with the bathroom, Jungkook is just beginning to push himself into a sitting position. 

You linger near the foot of the bed. “Good morning,” You greet, almost nervously. For good reason to—the memory of last night is vague but defined well enough where you aren’t sure what the next course of action should be. It’s not like your college ever offered a course about what to do when your crush admits to liking you back. 

Jungkook looks at you from across the bed. He gives you a small smile, a reassuring one. “Morning,” He says back. “How did you sleep last night?” 

You twist your hands together. “Pretty good, actually. How about you?” 

“Me too.” He adjusts his position so he can crawl over to you. He slides his legs over the side of the bed right next to you. He brings his hands towards you, palms up. Although he’s close enough to reach you, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks: “Can I?” 

You don’t say anything, you merely rest your hand in his. He tugs you towards him, stopping only when you’re standing between his legs. He still keeps his fingers curled around yours, turning your hand up to play with your fingers. 

He looks up at you, a soft smile across his lips. “Hi.” 

You smile back. “Hi.” 

He laces your fingers together, resting them between your bodies. “I guess now for the bigger question… how are you feeling?” 

You look down at your hands, deciding you like the way his larger hands cover yours. “H-How did you know I was talking about you?” You ask instead, looking over at him. 

Jungkook shifts his gaze away for a moment. “I don’t know,” He admits earnestly. “You were just looking at me back at the flower field and I had a feeling. And I really think a part of me was hoping you were talking about me.” 

Unable to help yourself, you feel the side of your mouth quirk up into a small smile. “What would you have done if I wasn’t talking about you?” 

He exhales in a laugh. “Honestly, I might have just driven out in the middle of the night and gone over a bridge or something.” 

You laugh, trying to diffuse your smile by pressing your lips but it only works so well. “I was really surprised to hear you liked me back.” 

“Of course!” He exclaims, looking momentarily shocked that you would feel this way. “I wasn’t messing around when I said you were smart, funny, and easy to talk to. That’s what made me really like you when we first met. Whenever we talked you just felt so real and approachable—like I could just be myself around you. And even now, seeing you after graduating and realizing you’re still all of those things. It just makes me like you more.” 

You feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You’ve never thought of yourself in the way Jungkook is describing you—you always just assumed that you were in the background, that you’d never be enough. 

Jungkook is looking at you, his eyes big and wide and full of truth. “Is that weird?” He asks. 

You shake your head immediately. “No, no it’s not weird at all.” You shrug a shoulder, giving him a meek smile. “It’s really sweet, actually.” 

Jungkook grins at that, heaving out a breath as a sign of his lowered defenses. “I think you’re sweet too.” 

You groan at that, throwing your head back as Jungkook breaks into a series of giggles. “You’re corny.” 

“You’re not complaining,” He points out. This is true. 

You shrug. “I guess that means I’m expecting us to catch up on three years of terrible flirting.” 

The smile slides off his face. “You’re right.” He brings your joined hands closer together until your whole body is standing closer to his. “Can I ask to kiss you?” 

The four letter K word makes your heart stutter in your chest once more. Your hands are so close to his chest that you can feel his own heart beating, and the thought of Jungkook being equally nervous for this gives you enough confidence to return his question. “Why don’t you ask and find out?” 

He smiles, a bunny smile that crinkles his eyes. “Touche. Can I kiss you?” 

You smile back. “Yes…” You whisper, leaning down just enough for Jungkook to crane his neck up in order to meet each other halfway. It’s just a closed-mouth kiss, a soft weight against your lips.

It’s one that Jungkook pulls away from before you can really enjoy it, really ponder asking for more. “Sorry,” He says immediately, pointing to his mouth. “Morning breath.” 

The pair of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. That tense atmosphere is gone, replaced inside with that previously casual and comfortable air—as you step away from Jungkook and let him get his morning started. Except this time, the air is filled with open lingering stares, shy smiles, and Jungkook taking your suitcase wordlessly as you exit your hotel room. 

By the time you load into your car, it’s nearing noon and the gas tank in Jungkook’s car is almost empty. The pair of you agree in another champion’s breakfast—gas station food. 

“I swear, we’re both going to have terrible breakout tomorrow during the wedding,” You point out. Despite your words, you still tear into your Nacho Cheese Doritos with the aggression of a gorilla. “I’m going to photograph horribly. Irene will be so embarrassed.” 

“You photograph horribly? Inconceivable!” He says the word just as it is said in The Princess Bride, which makes you burst into another fit of laughter. 

The afternoon pans out the same way it has for the past two days. Jungkook drives onto the freeway, you decide the music, and the conversations fade in and out. Neither of you talk about the events of the previous night or of what happened in the morning—but the way Jungkook reaches out to laces your fingers together is more than enough. 

The town Jungkook has selected to stop for the evening is a five hour drive from the wedding venue—and it’s an actual city space this time, with restaurants and grocery stores and apartments. As soon as Jungkook tells you this information, you are bursting with excitement. It’s been two days since the pair of you actually stopped and lingered in a city environment and you miss it. 

It takes another whole day of driving to reach the city destination, as the first alert you get is the increasing number of cars that have joined you on the freeway. These more busy freeways guide you into the city, where you are greeted with the first sight of buildings, sidewalks, restaurants, and parking lots in days. 

Even though most of these landmarks are simple flashes that you and Jungkook pass through on the way to the hotel he has selected, you keep your eyes glued out of the window in order to take in as much of the surrounding area as you can. You continue to watch as the immediate high rises become more sporadic and spread out, until he’s finally pulling into the hotel. The sun is just setting behind the many buildings along the horizon. Lots of other cars are parked in the parking lot. You can hear other cars, buses, and trunks driving around the background—and you feel strangely comforted by this discovery. 

“Are you okay with sharing another bed today?” Jungkook asks as he guides the pair of you into the lobby. “I may or may not have called to make a reservation earlier when you were in the bathroom.” 

You laugh, feeling giddy at the thought of Jungkook taking the initiative to continue progressing your now slow-growing relationship. “Was that all they had left?” You ask teasingly as you make your way to the counter. 

Jungkook smiles down at you. “Perhaps I didn’t ask…” 

Your lips part. “Jungkook!” 

“What?” He’s laughing now. “I think I’m gonna bow out of any excuse to cuddle with you now that you’ve given me a taste of what that’s like?” 

You’re gasping in the midst of your laughter. “You’re terrible,” You manage. 

So Jungkook checks in—true to his word, he has reserved a single full-sized bed for the room. 

“Hey, so, I was thinking,” He starts as he’s following the map provided to him by the employee with directions about getting to his appropriate room. This hotel is slightly bigger than the off-the-road ones you and Jungkook pulled into, so it takes a little longer to find the room. After a few minutes of turning the map over, you two eventually find the room. 

“What’s up?” You ask as you push open the door and roll your suitcase into the space, with Jungkook following closely behind you. 

“Come here,” Jungkook requests gently, watching as you let go of your suitcase and make your way towards him. You move into his space easily, allowing him to hold you by the waist. “Since we’ve both admitted to missing out on three years of courting, flirting, and dating—I think we should go out to an actual restaurant to have an actual date.” 

You lean back slightly and give him a slightly shocked look. “Really?” 

“Yes!” He says. “Besides, someone has to put their foot down and say that eating only McDonalds and gas station hot dogs is not the right way to go.”

You laugh at that. “True, but we were having so much fun!” 

“Nope!” He exclaims, shaking his head. “The foot is going down, we’re going to an actual restaurant for dinner. Get changed, take a shower, whatever you need to do to freshen up.” There’s a finality in his words as he finally steps away from you, the smile of sweetness still on his lips. 

The restaurant Jungkook picks after scrolling through Yelp and other lists of recommendations is a corner Italian place that apparently serves the best Linguini and clams—a dish that you really enjoy. So you put something together much more presentable than your usual round of sweatpants and baggy t-shirts—replacing the sweatpants with black jeans and giving yourself a cream colored cropped sweater. It makes Jungkook’s eyes widen all the same. He’s clad in his usual black jeans and oversized coat that is perfect for the spring breeze. 

Since the restaurant is within walking distance of the hotel, you and Jungkook agree to chill off on the driving just enough to stretch your legs and actually have a walk for once—all while celebrating the final night of the road trip. 

“I was a little worried about this at first, to be honest with you,” You admit softly to Jungkook, long after the pair of you have been seated in a corner booth and have ordered your food. You’re circling the pasta noodles around your fork, and Jungkook is watching with a touch of amusement and adoration in his eyes. 

“Not gonna lie, so was I,” Jungkook returns back with an equally meek smile. 

You gape at him. “You invited me though!” 

“I did!” Jungkook exclaims with a laugh, looking down at his own order of food. “Me inviting you was honestly a spur of the moment thing. Me catching up to you, however, was me trying to be brave.” 

“You seemed pretty brave throughout most the trip,” You point out 

Jungkook shakes his head, situating his arms in a cross motion. “Nah dude that was just all a very well thought out facade. A part of me was expecting it to go terribly so I could at least walk away knowing that I built you up in my mind and the fantasy of that was better than the reality.” He must see the look of uncertainty casting a shadow over your mind because he immediately cuts back in. “Just so you know, the reality is much better than anything I could have conjured up.” 

You lower your chin slightly, staring over at Jungkook. You bring one shoulder up into a half-hearted shrug, maybe to showcase a certain level of carelessness. “What were you conjuring up then?” 

“Oh, I don’t know if you want to go there right now,” He rebuffs, looking a little red in the cheeks. “I think we should start slow. Refer to the PG thoughts, if you will.” 

You laugh, focusing your gaze momentarily on the last of your pasta. You had sorted through the clams, since they weren’t your favorite things to eat. “Jungkook, are you admitting to me that you have thoughts above PG?” 

“Oh shit, that wasn’t my intention!” 

You giggle. “I’m messing with you, Jungkook!” 

He pouts. “Don’t do that.” He rests his hand on the table, palm up, inviting for you to take it. “I just want to spend today with you, and take it slow—I just want to hold your hand and kiss you and lay with you and just be with you in the way I couldn’t be with you in college. Is that too weird?” 

You look down, pressing your lips together, trying not to squeal and definitely not trying to throw yourself off the chair. You look back over at him and squeeze his hand. “That’s not too weird at all. That’s actually really sweet. Honestly, those are things I probably would have asked for regardless. I don’t really know the rules of dating—I never really went out that often.” 

Jungkook smiles sweetly back at you, he brings your hands up to kiss the back. “I’ll give you a few pointers then, let’s get going.” 

After the check is paid for—it ends up being a split between the two, it’s the best compromise you can come up with considering he wants to take you out but you want to pay him back for driving this far—the pair of you emerge back into the city space. Jungkook’s hand is still wrapped around yours, using that connection point to pull you close to him. 

“Now this move,” Jungkook explains, beginning to lead you both back to your hotel room. “Is when the gentleman walks the lady home, because their date went by smoothly and he wants to see her for as long as possible.” 

You laugh. “I’m enjoying this so far.” 

The pair of you continue down the sidewalk, using the time it’ll take to walk back to the hotel to walk off the food in your stomach. You resume your conversation, giggling and laughing all the same until you’re walking through the lobby of the hotel and slowly making your way to your hotel room. 

Right before you step inside, Jungkook stops you. “Normally, the front door is where the gentleman drops the lady off, and they talk about how well the date went.” 

“Oh, well, in that case, this was so nice, Jungkook,” You remark, beaming at Jungkook’s own smile. “I’m glad you convinced me to eat real food for once.” 

“You’re welcome—I had fun too.” Jungkook slides closer to you. You, completely hypnotized by his next movements, watch as he cups your face with his hand to angle you upwards. “This is the part where we have a first kiss, because the stars are lined up for this. And because I really want to.” 

You smile, curling one of your hands around the wrist near your face. “Seeing as we’ve already had our first kiss, how about a second one?” 

Jungkook smiles back, eyes lidded towards your mouth. “I guess that’ll work.” His lesson on dating, it seems, is done, as he leans in to kiss you. You suck in a breath as he covers your lips with his. It’s deeper than the first time he kissed you—which had been more of a peck with a side of morning breath. But now you’re both awake, tasting like wine, and drunk off each other. It’s a more real kiss. 

You whimper as Jungkook’s tongue runs over your bottom lip, before slipping into your mouth. It’s a sensation you can get completely lost in, until Jungkook pulls away. 

Under the hallway light, you can make out his flushed cheeks, his wet lips, his dark gaze. 

Immediately, Jungkook is pulling you to his side before he starts digging through the pockets of his jeans. “Alright, we’re going inside right now.” 

You lean into his shoulder. “I thought I was supposed to invite you inside, Jeon? What happened to giving me pointers on first dates?” 

“Screw that,” He retorts, practically shoving the hotel door open. He turns around to face you. “Now, this is our hotel room. And I want to kiss you in private.” 

Your laughter is drowned out as Jungkook tugs you by the wrist into the room. 

.

Under different circumstances, waking up next to each other after a first date would hit you with a wave of anxiety and maybe even a vague sense of embarrassment at letting someone you like see you in such a vulnerable position. 

Right now, however, under the morning sunlight within the covers of your shared hotel bed, you just feel happy and content. You wake up on your side, with an arm resting over Jungkook’s chest and his fingers curling around your own. There is an immediate feeling of giddiness that overtakes you, because it’s hard for you to believe that this is happening. Someone you’ve liked and continue to like actually returning your feelings? That has always been such a foreign concept to you. 

You don’t know how long you continue laying in bed until Jungkook starts shifting next to you, signalling his wake. You watch as his eyes slowly peel open, laced with grogginess but still looking unfairly attractive that there are butterflies in your stomach. 

Jungkook lets out a sigh, as he looks down at you. A tired smile takes over his expression. “Morning.” 

“Good morning,” You reply back, voice soft and a little shy. “Happy wedding day.” 

That is true. Today is Irene’s wedding—an event you and Jungkook will arrive at in nearly five hours. There’s a strange sort of knot that is beginning to twist itself in your stomach, a knowledge that something good is coming to a close but a fear in the unknown as to what this would mean regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Neither of you have laid down groundwork for your relationship—if this even is a relationship to begin with. You may be inexperienced with this kind of stuff, but you’re sure that one date and making out on a hotel bed doesn’t immediately constitute an exclusive relationship. 

If Jungkook notices the tension in your form, he doesn’t say anything. He kisses your temple and grumbles something about wanting to get the day started. He mentions something about not having to worry about getting dressed for the wedding straightaway—that he has reserved a room at the hotel some of the guests of the wedding would be staying at, which is where you will be getting ready before the event. You nod, hearing pieces of his words, but a lot of it gets lost in your own thoughts. 

Is it okay to ask questions about where you stand with Jungkook? Is it foolish of you to even bother wondering? You’ve seen movies and have had conversations with friends about guys who dismissed questions like that as ‘moving too fast’. You don’t want to scare Jungkook off, but you also need to know that you’re not wasting your time.

You remain in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you sigh and try to organize through your thoughts. You also try to break down how the past three days have been. 

However, trying to do so proves to be a difficult challenge, as Jungkook’s phone starts buzzing excessively on his side of the nightstand—it seems like he is getting a series of text messages from someone. 

You know you shouldn’t be looking or prying, but the constant binging of alerts only eats at your nerves more. You turn in the bed towards Jungkook’s side, picking up the device to search for the silence switch along the sides. The screen, however, lights up and you immediately see a name you have not seen or heard since college. 

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts 

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think 

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :) 

You freeze, feeling your body overload with information and questions come flooding into your mind. At first, you think you reread the message wrong. You think that maybe Jennie is texting the wrong person. But after the third or fourth time, you realize that this isn’t a dream. That Jungkook already has a plus one to the wedding, and it isn’t you. 

More than that, it’s Jennie. 

Jennie is also someone you went to college with, and someone that you only heard of between the grape vines and therefore is someone that is only vaguely recognizable. But you definitely know her. Jennie had been one of Irene’s friends, president of her sorority—and labeled some of the nicest people on campus. Even just from rumors and the one time you ran into her around the school, you can see it. Jennie is nice, beautiful, friendly, and outgoing. All the things you are not. 

And now, she’s Jungkook’s plus one to the wedding. And Jungkook did not tell you. 

Your lips part as your head starts to spin. Why didn’t Jungkook tell you he already had a plus one to Irene’s wedding? Maybe he did not owe you the explanation, and maybe you should never have assumed he’d be your plus one to the wedding. 

The thought of you assuming Jungkook would be your date to the wedding fills you with a vague mortification—why did you have to go ahead and assume? 

Your mind starts to spiral as you fall into the depths of overthinking. Now you were set to attend a wedding alone, with no plus one, and surrounded by people you don’t know. All while watching Jungkook sit with Jennie, eat with Jennie, and dance with Jennie. 

Holy fuck, holy fuck, what were you going to do? You can’t go to this wedding alone. You can’t confront Jungkook about this—you’re not even supposed to be touching his phone or looking through his phone. He would definitely be upset. How could he not be? 

At once, the tears collect in your eyes. How could this be happening? Seconds ago, you had been so content and happy, excited to attend this wedding with Jungkook. Seconds ago, you had been confident about your feelings, and Jungkook’s feelings in return. From all the kisses he showered you in, the date, the talking, the confessing—how could you not feel that way? 

Had Jungkook just been pulling your leg? After all, he did have three years to talk to you, to go out with you. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? Is he here right now: talking to you and laughing with you because he hadn’t found anyone and knows that you would do anything for him? 

In the background, you can vaguely make out the shower in the bathroom turn off, signalling Jungkook’s near completion with the bathroom. At once, it feels like you’re in a car that has enforced sudden breaks and has sent you flying against the dashboard—like you can’t breathe. 

Hastily, you rest Jungkook’s phone back on the nightstand and roll back over to your side of the bed. You blink quickly, trying to rid of the tears that have collected in your eyes while also trying to calm the lump in the back of your throat. 

Just as you’re starting to get a handle back on your feelings, the bathroom door opens and you can vaguely make out Jungkook’s humming as he exits. The fact that he sounds so carefree while you’re hurting only a handful of feet away almost makes the tears come back in. But you’ve learned how to hide your emotions well. 

Jungkook’s soft laugh brings you out of your thoughts. “Still in bed?” He asks jokingly, sitting on the edge and placing a hand on your ankle. You try not to stiffen at the gesture. “You know, even though we’re getting dressed at a different hotel, we still need to get going.” 

You take in a breath. “I’m comfortable here,” You exclaim, sitting up and facing Jungkook. He’s looking as wide-eyed, easy-going, and comfortable as always. You’re not sure how long you can keep up the facade of being okay. “I was just waiting for you, that’s all.” 

You don’t wait for him to reply as you slide off the bed, grab your clothes from your suitcase, and lock yourself in the bathroom. You ignore the lump in your throat as you brush your teeth, as you get your day started. Finally, you look up at your own reflection in the mirror. Unlike previous times, when there had been a glimmer to your gaze—you don’t know you recognize the now disheartened individual before you. 

You exit the bathroom and immediately turn to pack up your suitcase once more, ignoring Jungkook in the process. The boy is on his phone, typing something—probably a text message. Maybe he’s responding to Jennie, confirming their date for tonight, as he remains completely oblivious to your feelings. 

The thought brings the tears back to your eyes. 

“Ready to go?” Jungkook asks, all smiles and soft eyes as he slides off the bed to face you. 

You don’t look at him as you shoulder your carry-on bag and straighten into a standing position. “Yeah.” You don’t mean for the tone to come out dry and unresponsive, but you’re too focused on trying to get the tears out of your throat. 

You miss the way the smile slowly slips off Jungkook’s face as he watches you move towards the door. 

Jungkook moves towards you, reaching forward to take your suitcase from you just as he’s done for the past few days. 

You, however, brush him off. “It’s okay, Jungkook.” You pull open the door and make your way down the hallway without looking back to see if he’s following closer behind you. You don’t need his help, you don’t need his pity. You don’t need him to do these things, to lead you on—especially if he was going to end up with some other girl at then end of the day. 

You stay quiet as you make your way to Jungkook’s car. Jungkook steals the occasional glance in your direction, seeming to finally realize that something is wrong. 

He, however, doesn’t say anything until you’re back on the freeway—on the five hour drive towards the wedding venue. “Everything okay?” 

You’re playing with your hair, but you stop long enough to spare him a short glance. You’re not even looking at his face, you’re looking at the chair he’s seated on. “What do you mean?” 

Jungkook clears his throat. “You’ve been really quiet since I got out of the bathroom. You…” He gestures to the center console. “You’re not even playing any music.” He tries for a smile. “I’d really like to listen to your ‘everything’ playlist.” 

“Sorry, I’m not really in a music-listening mood right now,” You whisper, realizing that you should probably cover up your ass a little better than you are currently. “S-Sorry, I think it was something at the restaurant yesterday. I’m not feeling super hot right now.” 

“Oh no, do we need to stop by a pharmacy or something? I can run in and get some stomach machine or whatever—!” 

“Jungkook, it’s fine.” 

Maybe it’s the finality of your tone, or the sharper edge in your voice, but Jungkook quiets down again. One glance in his direction shows you the furrow of his eyebrows, the set of his jawline—he looks hurt and confused. And that kills you inside. 

A small part of you wants you just lay all your cards on the table—to admit your side of the story and let him know about the texts and the hurt feeling still eating itself at your heart. 

But another part of you, the bigger part of you, doesn’t want to give Jungkook that power. You don’t want to be the one to crack first, to be the one who gets hurt first. So you refuse to say anything, settling deeper and deeper into the seat of Jungkook’s car. Contrary to your initial thoughts, he doesn’t plug in his own phone to play his own music. He simply allows the pair of you to bathe in silence. 

Without the music to distract you, without Jungkook trying to make conversation, it forces your mind to linger on the events of the early morning. Maybe Jungkook didn’t tell you because it was obvious to him that the pair of you would never have been a plus one to the wedding in general. He’s probably hurt because Jungkook can’t get his way with you. 

The realization that he doesn’t even have the consideration to warn you ahead of time that an invitation for a ride doesn’t equate to an invitation to be a plus one brings the tears back to your eyes. Did you not even deserve a warning? Why would Jungkook let you kiss him, let you fall in love with him—only to turn his back on you like this? 

You have to keep your eyes glued to the window of the passenger’s side of the car, just to make sure Jungkook won’t see the tears. You can just imagine that he’ll ask, and the conversation will steer the pair of you into an even more awkward space. 

It’s a very agonizing five hours. Not having that time to recover from the shock of those texts is becoming increasingly more difficult for you to handle. 

There are a few times that your tears overwhelm your whole system, where you have to sniff to get a handle on your body’s response to the emotions going through your body—which you’re sure Jungkook can hear. After all, there’s no music playing and there is a silence that is threatening to swallow you whole. 

Jungkook, however, does not say anything in response to your very obvious sniffle. He merely tightens his grip on the steering wheel, and keeps his mouth shut. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to talk first, to explain what’s going on with you. 

The sky is bleeding orange by the time Jungkook pulls into the new hotel, the final hotel. There is still two hours until the wedding is set to start, but every nerve in your body is screaming for you to leave and go back home. Every nerve in your body is telling you that you don’t belong here anymore. 

“Okay, I let you have your peace for the whole drive over,” Jungkook starts off, voice tight, fixing the car into park. “But I’m asking you this right now. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem fine… and I’m worried about you…” He reaches across the car to land a hand on your shoulder. It’s a completely normal gesture, especially between you and Jungkook, but you cannot handle it. 

You jerk away. “I’m fine,” You snap out, actually fixing your gaze on him this time. Jungkook recoils, immediately retracting his arm from you, looking like you just burned him. You tear your gaze away from him. You’re not strong enough to see him hurt because of you. “Why do you care anyways?” 

Jungkook exhales in disbelief, turning towards the steering wheel of the car and running a hand through his hair. “What are you talking about? Is this about last night? Did I… say something to scare you off?” 

“This isn’t about what you said, this is about what you didn’t say and what you’re not telling me!” 

Jungkook looks like you just grew a second head. “What are you talking about?” 

You whirl back to face him. “Oh, so the fact that you and Miss. Jennie were already set to go to this fucking wedding together and you didn’t even think to give me a heads up and tell me?” 

Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. “What? How did you know about that?” 

You laugh, but it’s a hollow noise that only makes that lump come back to your throat. “Nevermind,” You bite out. This time, you don’t stop the tears from resurfacing as you give Jungkook a full look this time. His demeanor changes from frozen to pained at the sight. “I hope you guys are very happy together.” 

You don’t say another word as you fumble with the latch of the door before pushing it open with more strength than necessary. You can vaguely hear Jungkook struggling with his own seat belt, but you don’t care. You slam the car door shut and storm away. You don’t know where you’re going—maybe around the corner to scream, or to call a taxi that’ll take you to the airport. You don’t care about the wedding. You don’t think you could face the embarrassment in facing Jungkook or Jennie or Irene right now. 

“Shit, Y/N! Y/N!” Jungkook is calling for you now, his footsteps loud against the asphalt. 

Everything feels like you’re going through water, which is probably why Jungkook is able to reach you as quickly as he does. He catches you by the wrist. 

“Y/N—please, will you stop and just listen to me?” 

“No! Jungkook, let me go.” You start trying to tug your wrist, trying to pull yourself away from him. “Let me go! I’m leaving! I don’t want to see you anymore!” You’re gasping, the tears blurring your vision and making you feel powerless. 

Without a warning, Jungkook pulls you in his arms. Wrapping his arms around you, he traps you in his embrace. And you are miserable. 

“Stop it!” You gasp, trying to push him away. You’re heaving—crying and trying to escape from someone as strong as Jungkook is definitely a workout for your body. “Jungkook, leave me alone. This is all my fault.” 

He pauses. “What do you mean?” 

You stop struggling, allowing Jungkook to hold you as you pull back enough to look away from his face. You wipe at the tears on your face. “It’s my fault anyways. I said I liked you and you said you liked me too, but maybe that wasn’t enough for you. Just because we like each other doesn’t mean we’re exclusive. I should have asked up front, so I wouldn’t get hurt in the long run.” 

“You don’t need to get hurt though,” Jungkook whispers kindly, his voice overcoming the blood in your ears, as well as your own yelling. You quiet down at that, except for your own lungs contracting to catch more air. This leaves you a hiccuping mess. He waits until he knows you’re not going to say anything next. “You’re right, okay? Jennie and I were supposed to be each other’s dates.” 

You’re still trying to catch your breath. 

Jungkook rests a hand on top of your head, curling his fingers through the strands of your hair soothingly. “Are you okay?” 

You hiccup. “Why are you telling me this? I just told you that I’m hurt right now…” 

“Shhh.” Jungkook pulls back and cups your face in his hands so you can look at him. “You aren’t listening to me. I said we were supposed to be each other’s dates. We’re not anymore.” 

You blink, allowing the tears that were already filling your eyes to fall down your cheeks. Jungkook wipes them gently with his thumb. “What?” 

Jungkook’s gaze flickers between your eyes. “Jennie and I are friends, so we’d figure it would be fun to just go together and have a person to sit with, eat with, and dance with. As friends.” 

“W-What happened then?” You ask, a watery color in your voice. 

Jungkook gives you a gentle smile, the kind of gesture that tells you that you should know the answer already. “You happened, silly.” He keeps his eyes on yours. “I saw you at the party with Jimin and invited you to come with me. I assumed when I asked that we’d be each other’s plus ones. I forgot to tell Jennie though when I asked you out.” He tilts his head at you. “You saw the texts on my phone, didn’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry.” You hiccup again. “Your phone kept going off this morning and I was just trying to put it on silent. I-I didn’t mean to look through your messages…” 

“Shh, baby, you’re good, you’re okay.” Jungkook interrupts gently, wrapping his arms tighter around you and swaying the pair of you back and forth. The usage of the nickname fills you with a new feeling, a warmer feeling. It helps calm you down. 

Your breathing eventually evens out, bringing you back to reality and to the realization that you and Jungkook are hugging in the middle of a hotel parking lot. 

Jungkook loosens his grip on you, letting you step back. He watches you for a moment. “Here,” He says, digging through his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I think you should see this.” He clicks through a few of his apps, until he seems to find what he’s looking for because he hands the phone to you. You look over at him, confusion flooding through your features. Jungkook gives you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay.” 

Still hesitant, you take the phone and look at the messages across the screen. It’s the texts from this morning. 

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts 

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think 

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :) 

Jungkook (10:20AM): hey Jennie !! oh shit i totally forgot to let u know but i actually found a plus one :( i’m soooo sorry i should have told you earlier omg i feel terrible 

Jennie (10:20AM): no worries jungkook !! who is it omg do I know them? 

Jungkook (10:20AM): it’s actually Y/N? We all went to college together… 

Jennie (10:20AM): OH!!!! wait isn’t she the one Irene was working with a lot for senior projects? 

Jennie (10:20AM): OH HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO

Jennie (10:21AM): OKAY JUNGKOOK I SEE U 

Jennie (10:21AM): she’s THE Y/N right???? the one u were in love with for our entire college career?? 

Jungkook (10:22AM): …… maybe? 

Jennie (10:22AM): WOWOWOWOW good for u Jungkook !!! glad to see u finally having the balls to ask her out !! 

Jungkook (10:22AM): OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH 

Jungkook (10:23AM): I actually felt BAD for leaving you by yourself BUT NOT ANYMORE 

Jennie (10:23AM): LMAO Jungkook I’m friends with Irene’s entire bridesmaid row i’ll be fine 

Jennie (10:23AM): just go get ur dick wet!!!!!! 

Jungkook (10:23AM): istg i will leave you on read 

Jungkook (10:23AM): also that is NOT the point!!!!!! Just wanna love my new girl :( 

Jennie (10:24AM): You’re gross 

Jennie (10:24AM): but sounds good see you tonight! 

You look up from Jungkook’s phone to see him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction, pleading for you to forgive him. 

The only thought that can be translated into a coherent sentence comes out: “You were in love with me during college?” 

Jungkook exhales in a laugh, his arms finding your waist once again. “I think ‘in love with’ was a bit of a stretch back then. I think you could agree that we didn’t know each other well enough before for me to say that.” 

You’re still looking at him. “Back then…?” You echo. 

He nods. “Back then.” He brings you closer, one hand moving up to gently brush at the skin of your cheek. “But it’s different now. Now, I can say with absolute certainty that I’m in love with you.” 

Your lips part. “You’re in love with me?” The tears spring back into your eyes, but for a different reason entirely. The emotional rollercoaster you have just been on is unbelievable. 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight of your tears. “Oh shit, I’m sorry! Is that too fast? I’m sorry, I should have given you a warning or something. Or more time at least. Oh no, please don’t cry…” 

You brush him off with a watery laugh, waving his concern away. “It’s okay Jungkook. This is fine, really.” You give him a smile. “I love you too. I really thought you were pulling my leg or something.” 

Jungkook gives you his own small smile. “I’m sorry. I should have brought this up sooner about us being each other’s plus ones. Just because I assume something doesn’t mean it’s an established thing.” He brings you closer, his smile turning into a grin. “You love me too, huh?” 

You giggle. You’re too strung out to come up with something witty or clever. “Yeah…” 

Jungkook is still smiling, his gaze switching between your lips and your eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

You nod. “About time.” 

He kisses you again, softly and sweetly, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips but it’s gentle caresses that make your heart feel like it’s crawling up your throat. 

“OH MY GOD GET A ROOM!” A voice calls from the other side of the parking lot, forcing you and Jungkook to pull away. The pair of you look at each other and you start to laugh. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead, sweeping down to your ear. “How about we check into our room and get ready?” 

You giggle, nodding over at him. “That sounds good.” 

So Jungkook leads the way, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you gather your suitcases from the car and enter the lobby. You check in easily, as Jungkook is provided a map with directions on how to reach the room. 

The pair of you don’t pull away once until Jungkook is sliding the key card into the door and pushing it open to reveal the bedroom you’ll be sharing for the night. 

Both you and Jungkook park your suitcases near the foot of the bed, as per usual. 

“Do you want to use the bathroom?” Jungkook offers. 

You nod, smiling softly. “Okay.” 

You gather the dress you’ve brought in your arms, about to enter the bathroom, before Jungkook’s voice stops you. “Hey,” He calls, approaching you and wrapping you in his arms again. He’s much more handsey this time, like he needs to make sure you’re not going to run away again, like you’re going to be okay. “You feel better now?” His thumb brushes your lips. “Your eyes are still a little red.” 

You nod. “The makeup will probably help that,” You reassure in a soft voice. 

Jungkook mirrors your movements. “Still, how about I get some ice for you so you can put something cold underneath your eyes… to stop the puffing.” 

He looks genuinely concerned and worried for your wellbeing that you can’t help but smile. Since he is insisting, you decide to just let him be. “Okay, Jungkook.” 

He smiles. “Okay! You start getting ready and I’ll get the ice, okay?” A quick kiss on your cheek before he’s bounding out of the door with the provided ice buckets. 

Your eyes linger on the door for a few minutes before you’re turning back to your suitcase. The dress you have picked is a pink flowing floor-length number—something Karly helped you pick out before leaving. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t leave crease marks along the fabric, which had made this outfit perfect for the trip. You take the dress and your bag of makeup before entering the bathroom. You’re just slipping on the dress when you hear the hotel room door open and close. 

“Okay, I got the ice!” Jungkook announces through the bathroom door. “Did you want to work on your eyes right now?” 

“Sure,” You call back. “Do you mind zipping me up first?” 

“Of course,” Jungkook returns, sounding distracting as you open the door to the bathroom. You peek your head through, noticing Jungkook opening his suitcase on the floor and sorting through it—probably for his own suit. 

He must hear the door open, because he looks up towards you. Immediately, his eyes widen as he straightens up into a standing position. “O-Oh wow…” He’s looking you over up and down, up and down, as if he needs to commit this to memory. “Y-You look great. Beautiful.” 

“Really?” You stammer back. “Thank you.” 

Jungkook keeps his eyes on you as he approaches you. “You needed me to zip you up?” 

“O-Oh right, yeah.” Hastily, you turn around, brushing the hair from your back to expose your undone zipper, and your bare back. 

You think that he purposely grazes the tips of his fingers against your skin in his process of bringing the zipper up to the top of the fabric. You’re about to turn, thank him, but his hands back at your waist do the gesture for you. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You look really pretty.” 

You pout. “You’re being too nice to me.” 

Jungkook whines, hugging you close to him. “You’re too cute.” He noses at your temple. “I just wanted to see you smile.” He pulls away after a moment. “Let’s take care of your face, yeah?” He turns around and returns with a small baggy full of ice. “Here, sit down for a second.” He leaves for a second, returning back with a towel. “Maybe… five minutes each eye. I don’t know. I’ll get ready while we’re waiting.” 

So he takes his suit out from his case and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with a towel of ice pressed against your eye. The cooling sensation definitely helps with the puffiness. 

Jungkook appears from the bathroom a few minutes later—dressed in a black suit with a white button-down and a long skinny black tie. His hair has been fiddled with a little, but he still has that messy, boyish, lovable appearance that makes your heart race. 

“Did you switch the towel?” 

You nod. 

“How do you feel?” 

Slowly, you bring the towel down and rest it on your lap. You look at Jungkook. “How do I look?” 

He leans forward towards you, holding your chin gently between his fingers. “You look better. Did you need to finish getting ready?” 

“Yeah. I just need to touch up my makeup.” 

“Okay, go ahead then.” 

Jungkook takes the towel, and watches as you make your way back to the bathroom. You’re only gone for a few minutes before you’re emerging once more—eyeshadow a little darker, lashes a little closer, and lips slightly pinker, but overall still looking like the same version of the girl he fell in love with. 

The pair of you drive to the wedding venue, a cute brick building with browns, greens, and whites surrounding. Guests already swarm the outside area, some of whom you recognize from college. The sight makes you nervous. 

Jungkook sees this, and he reaches over to grab onto your hand. “You can just stick with me, okay?” He smiles. “I’ll protect you.” 

You roll your eyes, but you are thankful to have Jungkook as your source of comfort and be that person you could run back to. 

He parks and meets you at the front of his car, where you lace fingers and make your way towards the venue. You go through a small round of hellos and ‘nice to finally meet you’ conversations—most notably from Mingyu and Jennie, both of whom light up at the sight of your presence. Contrary to your previous worries, you find that you don’t really need to be so nervous. Mingyu and Jennie are friends of Jungkook’s for a reason—they radiate a relaxing nature that you can tell is what has drawn the three of them to each other. 

They ask about you, your college experience, your current experience, passing easy conversation in the ceremony space right before the start of the wedding. It’s fun to see Jungkook joking around with the friends he grew up with, and even more fun to see how easy you are allowed into that world. 

The actual wedding ceremony is a blur. You vaguely recognize the extremely attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Seokjin at the head of the aisle. You definitely recognize the equally as attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Irene, downed in white lace and looking much more beautiful than you ever remember her. Vows are exchanged, kisses are shared, there’s an applause, and pictures are taken before the guests are ushered into the main entry room—decked out with a bar and a few scattered seating areas. Jungkook whispers to you that guests are put here temporarily, as the ceremony space is being converted into a dining area. 

True to Jungkook’s promise, he lingers by your side most of the night. Although you reassure him that you are fine, you are much more emotionally stable compared to a few hours ago, and that perhaps you are okay catching up with Nayeon—another girl from college, actually someone from the first party you ever attended who defended you when you were receiving unwanted attention—but Jungkook simply tells you that he likes being around you. He likes being able to put his arm around you, likes to rest his hand at your waist, likes people knowing that he has you. 

It’s a few more minutes of conversation, of laughter, of old stories being exchanged between people you haven’t seen for years, when the guests are called back into the newly converted dining area. Instead of rows of chairs lined up, there are round tables filling the space. The long panel of doors once closed along the wall of the room have been opened—exposing a gazebo with a D.J. and a dance floor, all encircled by a string of big bright fairy lights. 

You and Jungkook are situated at the same table as most of the guests you recognize from college. You assume this is purposefully done to give you all a common ground, and it works because conversations spring easily between you all. Even when you’re not talking about your experiences from university, you’re able to transition from topic to topic. You and Jungkook occasionally talk amongst yourselves as you’re eating, but you sit together and laugh together when Irene and Seokjin emerge and listen in during the wedding toasts. 

Finally, Irene and Seokjin make their rounds through the room, stopping at the tables to cheer and laugh and exchange a few words of congratulations and conversation. Following this process, everyone at your table stands on their feet as Irene and Seokjin make their way towards you. There are bright smiles, Irene’s cheerful gasp as she takes in all the guests that have come to join her. She circles your table, hugging every guest, continuing this when she reaches you. 

Irene grins at the sight of you. “Y/N! Oh my gosh, it’s been so long!” 

“I know!” You return, pulling away from Irene. “Congratulations. This wedding is beautiful.” 

She beams, absolutely radiating in her white dress and glittering makeup. “Thank you so much for coming! But oh my god, are the rumors true, did you really show up—!” She looks over your shoulder, and grins again. “Jungkook!” She hugs Jungkook. “I should be saying congratulations to the two of you. I was surprised to get the text from Jungkook saying that you guys were coming as each other’s dates. Gave me a whole pain because I had to switch some seats around at the last minute. But anything for my favorite people.” She turns to you and holds onto your arms. “Jungkook has had a crush on you for years, so you’re really doing him a huge favor.” 

“Okay, enough,” Jungkook interrupts, scowling. But there is still that playful look in his eyes. “Did all your friends know about this? Jennie knew something was up too when I texted her.” 

Irene presses her lips together. “Mingyu might have mentioned something.” She presses her hand to Jungkook’s cheek. “Stay safe, you guys. Hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” She moves onto her next guest. 

Jungkook is groaning. “Remind me to never tell Mingyu anything ever again.” He glares at the boy from across the table. “Gonna fling some peanuts at that son of a bitch.” 

You laugh, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist. “Oh, let him be. It’s Irene’s wedding. You can get him tomorrow.” 

Jungkook pouts, but he does wrap his own arm around your shoulder. “Ah, love my girl—promoting evil behavior after festive events.” He kisses your cheek as your table takes their seats once more. 

The good natured atmosphere continues as you and Jungkook down your food, remaining fully engaged in the conversations happening around the table. After another hour of this, the DJ announces the start of the married couple’s first dance. Irene and Seokjin take to the dance floor and spin around, her white dress flowing around the room like light. Underneath the glow of the fairy lights, it looks like the couple is in an entirely new world. And you are so taken by it. 

Jungkook does not turn to you until the DJ plays a slow song—a first slow song after a series of upbeat dance and pop genres. He jerks his head towards the dance floor. “You want to dance?” 

You take his hand when he offers. “Of course.” He leads you across the room, towards the gazebo, where several other couples have moved to cling to one another. Jungkook pulls you in: one hand on your waist and the other with your own hand. “This is really nice,” You start off. 

Jungkook laughs. “The wedding, or the dance?” 

You smile over at him. “Both. Being able to slow dance with you, however, is marginally better.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a little after that. He seems content just staring at your eyes, taking in the magic of this moment. “Thank you for coming with me,” He starts. “The whole road trip thing. Definitely would not have been as fun if I did all that by myself.” 

“Well, thank you for inviting me,” You return. “Even though we had that big misunderstanding. I had a lot of fun.” 

“Hey.” Jungkook angles his head a little so he can look at you in the eyes. “You know that I would never hurt you, right? You’re too important to me that I wouldn’t even think to pull some stupid shit like that again. You know that I love you too much to do that to you, right?” 

“I do know now,” You say, gazing over at him. “And I love you too.” 

You’re not usually an expressive person. But it’s worth saying those words just to see the grin that overtakes Jungkook’s face. It’s worth even more when he leans forward, kissing you openly in front of all his friends, nibbling gently at your bottom lip, running his tongue over the wound, and into your mouth. It’s worth it to have his fingers dusting sweetly over your skin, coaxing your mouth to open to allow exploration. 

It feels like worlds pass before Jungkook pulls away, giving you that breathless smile dimple and all, before he’s leaning forward to bury his face into your neck. 

“I think the drive home will be fun,” Jungkook mutters softly. 

“Hm?” You hum, eyes closed as he presses tiny kisses along your neck. 

“Most definitely,” Jungkook says, lifting himself just enough so that his lips hover over your ear lobe. “Because I plan on fucking you in every hotel bed for the rest of the trip.” 

You feel your heart race, your cheeks heat. Yes, this was definitely worth it. 

[lupismaris]

Summertime, And The Livin’s Easy- a black sails fic prompt fill

this became incredibly long so instead of just posting it with the ask i’ve made it’s own post 

@themelonface​ asks- For the fic prompts (if you're still taking them), silverflint talking about children. Can be AU, can be set during or after canon. I just have a feeling Miranda never wanted any, Thomas was too wrapped up in the fight for equality to need anything more than cats, but maybe James would have wanted kids in another life.

HERE MY DARLING HAVE THE FIRST OF hopefully TWO PROMPT FILLS because i want to write a post canon ficlet for this ask as well. 

but for now have modern au silverflint (and hamilton at the end) and the discussion of children 💕

cw for mentions of child abuse and shitastic fathers!!! but theres nothing graphic mentioned or shown. 

***

It was the hazy space between what would have been brunch on a weekend and the corporate lunch time rush and the start of cocktail hour on every other day when half the bars in Brooklyn Heights hadn’t actually opened their doors yet and those that had were serving sandwiches and day drinking friendly cocktails.

 The Walrus was one of the latter.

Silver slid off his bar stool as the last member of the aforementioned lunch rush stepped out the door and leaned against the polished bar top with a bright grin. “How you holding up, honey?” Muldoon rolled his eyes. “Please, a corpse could make an aperol spritz.” “I doubt a corpse could make that many of them that quickly.” “Flattery might work on other men,” Muldoon said, as he always did, with a wag of his tattooed finger and a smile fighting to show on his face. “But it will not work on me.” “Are you sure? Cause you were pretty sexy with those martinis. Remind me why its always vodka?” “Your boyfriend has told you that a dozen times already, I know it for a fact, you shit.” “Okay but maybe I wanna hear you explain it. Again,” Silver said, propping his chin on his hands and putting on his best Cheshire smile, throwing in a slight batting of the lashes just for Muldoon’s sake. They played this game every time Silver wasted away a few hours at the bar, which he was starting to do more and more often. He’d joke with Flint that it was only out of boredom, but in truth, he felt safe there, nestled in the corner with his laptop or acting as an honorary member of the staff when they needed some help. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, on why he felt so safe there or why after so many years he was once again feeling so painfully devoted to the same group of men who’d despite everything, seen him through hell. Muldoon sighed, his hands making quick work of filling the high powered steam dishwasher under the counter. He pushed it closed with his hip and looked up at Silver, finally cracking a smile. “Do you want to help me run bar for a bit, love? While it’s quiet?”

Silver was behind the bar before Muldoon could even consider changing his mind. He did pause to duck into the kitchen quickly, where the two line cooks- Randal and Dooley- were working on their mise en place and Vane was wedged into the alley doorway with a cigarette in his mouth, recovering from the lunch rush. His long hair was carefully tied up in a braided bun and covered in a bandanna, ears lined as always with half a dozen hoops a piece. “Why do you look like you just ate a canary?” Vane asked around his smoke. “No reason. Where’s the Captain?” Vane nodded to the walk in pantry where Flint was likely checking stock counts, “he’s in a mood again.” “When isn’t he? When he’s done tell him to come up to the bar I’ve got a surprise,” Silver said, still wearing that grin, and Vane laughed with a nod, going back to watching the alley behind the bar. “Alright come on you flirt-” Muldoon called, and Silver quickly washed his hands and snagged one of the spare aprons Hal kept behind the bar. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make a cocktail, he played bartender for house parties all the time. But there was something different about learning to do it properly, from Muldoon who clearly took great pride in it, and in a place that was quickly becoming a second home to him. An hour in, and several successful cocktails later, Muldoon allowed Silver to help him actually fill orders for the few customers they got, though it wasn’t many. Flint still had not resurfaced from the kitchen, and so Silver kept his focus on the recipes Muldoon had him run through- proper martinis and Manhattans, Mojitos and mules, mezcal margs and all the things you could do with the collection of Amaros and aperitifs behind the bar. The customers were students on their way home from morning classes, morning shifters heading home or stopping for some food before the evening shift at their second job started, regulars who stopped in for lunch because no one made a cuban quite as well as their kitchen did.   And then the door chimed and Silver looked up with his customary smile and greeting ready, waiting to see where the guests might seat themselves- the host wouldn’t be in till four when the official dinner service started- and found himself staring at, well, children. Six of them, all too young to be in a bar unsupervised even before happy hour but probably even too young to be wandering around Brooklyn by themselves as it was. The older two definitely had the hardened older sibling with “semi absent if not entirely absent parents” look around them, Silver knew that look far too well, though whether the four younger kids were siblings or just under their care he couldn’t be sure. All of them were wearing some variation of public school uniform which Silver recognized from the public school a few blocks away. “Hey Nicki,” Muldoon said with a wave, and one of the older kids with short messy dark hair and equally dark eyes waved back. Silver looked at Muldoon quickly with raised brows. “Do me a favor go find Flint, okay? Tell him the kids are up front.” Silver just nodded, watching as Nicki and the other older kid shepherded the younger kids into the big corner booth closest to the bar without being told to, and slipped into the kitchen. Vane was at the prep table, knife in hand and making quick work of a cut of meat. He didn’t look up when he heard the door swing open but tilted his head expectantly. “Flint?” Sliver asked. “Smoke break, should be about done. Said he was coming up to see you in a minute.” Silver threw open the back alley door and there was Flint, propped up against the wall with a beaten up paperback on his knee and a forgotten cigarette in his hand. He looked up at him with a frown. “Hey whats wrong? You set the bar on fire with a flaming mojito or something?” he said, wearing a rare teasing smile. “Not yet but theres like, half a kindergarten class upfront.” Flint blinked, looked at his watch, and swore, “shit they must’ve let out early cause of the heat.” “Darling, what in the hell are you talking about.” Flint stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it in the ashtray by the door, kissing the top of Silver’s head as he passed. “I’ll explain in a minute- Vane! Leave the dinner service I need you on the meal kits with me-” “Already started on them,” Vane said, waving the knife idly as he portioned the meat into rather exact ready to cook portions. Flint nodded and washed his hands. “Dooley wheres those sandwiches I told you to fix-” “Here boss.” “Silver,” Flint loaded up six plates of sandwiches onto two serving trays and passed the lighter of the two to Silver. “Take one of these out with me ‘kay?” Silver nodded and balanced the tray on his shoulder, following Flint out of the kitchen. The bar was still mostly empty, Muldoon hanging out at the corner of the bar closest to the kids, making them each a Shirley Temple and passing Nicki a pitcher of water for them to share. Normally, Silver would’ve made some smart ass remark about how apparently it was normally for a bunch of kids to just turn up at the bar for lunch but something about this felt different and something in the set of Flint’s shoulders told him to stay quiet. “Let me guess the AirCon crap out again?” Flint asked upon reaching the table. “Or did one of you sabotage it to get out early?” The younger kids all started talking at once, bursts of loud excitement at seeing Flint, and the food, all wanting to explain why they had been let out of school a little bit early that day. Nicki and the other older kid, Sola, helped distribute the plates of food with smiles and nods of thanks while Flint listened intently to the kids’ rambling and incoherent explanations.   Once the young-ins were distracted by the sandwiches, Nicki offered a more coherent explanation. “Yeah they said the AC’s gonna be out till tomorrow with the heat, so they’re closing school till Monday,” he said. “Three day weekend I guess, without the extra homework since the teachers didn’t have time to prepare for any.” “Nice. Gonna meet your friends at the bridge park tomorrow? You mentioned wanting to get your kick flips more polished.” Nicki shook his head, looking bitter about it. “Can’t, busted up my front bearings and wheels on a ride home last week, won’t be able to afford to fix it for a bit. S’fine though, got chores to do.” Flint nodded, leaning back against the bar with his arms lazily crossed over his middle. “Do me a solid and bring the board by tomorrow okay? I think one of my guys might have some spare parts they’re not using.” Silver felt something in him break a little at the way the boy’s face lit up at Flint’s words. Or maybe it was at the ease with which Flint handled the kids, the openness he showed them, listening to how their days had gone, if only in brief, listening to their problems, which to them seemed world ending- Sola’s internet was out for the weekend, so she’d be at the library doing homework on Friday and probably most of the weekend when she wasn’t helping at her aunt’s salon, the little ones would all be shuttled to various relatives until Monday until they went back to school and Sola and Nicki, or another of the older kids in their building would take charge of them again. One of the younger kids was staring at Silver, her sandwich half held to her mouth. Just staring, bright brown eyes fixed on him in that quizzical way that children possessed that always made Silver feel transparent. Flint noticed and followed her gaze with an amused grin, waving for Silver to come over to join them instead of hiding behind the bar with Muldoon.  Silver looked at him wide eyed for a moment, then at the kids, specifically the little girl who was staring him down like a gunslinger, and then back at Flint, who just reached for him. Damn the bastard, he knew that was all it ever took. Silver came over and let Flint pull him in under his arm, feeling like a bug under the microscope in a science class he never attended but had heard about from other people. “You have pretty hair,” the little girl said. She was missing her two front teeth and Silver wanted to melt. “Thank you. You have big eyes.” “Yeah. They see a lot,” She said nodding solemnly. Silver could feel Flint shifting with the effort it took not to laugh. “They’re a pretty color. They remind me of this stone called tiger’s eye,” Silver continued. He could see Nicki giving Flint a look, though he didn’t know what Flint was doing in response. The little girl tilted her head. “Whats that?” So Silver pulled out his phone and showed her, which lead to a short lesson in gemstones that mostly amounted to excited cries of “oh shiny” and “I’d steal that one” which did Silver’s heart good. “This is Silver, a friend of mine who just moved back to town. He’s helping out round here. So he and I are gonna go fix your take away bags,” Flint said, once the momentary fascination in gemstones had faded and the kids were once again fixed on their plates. “Sola, you and Nicki just let Muldoon know if you guys need anything, or stick your head in the kitchen and yell okay? We’ll hear you. C’mon Silver.” If Silver had hoped for an explanation, he didn’t get one. Once he and Flint crossed the threshold back into the kitchen there was work to be done- Randal and Dooley handled the orders brought to them from the waitstaff while Flint and Vane, with Silver doing whatever Flint told him to, made quick work of assembling meal kit after meal kit from dishes both on and off the bar’s menu. Everything was boxed up and taped shut, paired with pre-typed instructions on how to cook the meals and how many servings each would make, and tucked into sturdy double layered brown bags that would hopefully survive a trip across the neighborhood. As they were finishing twenty minutes later, Hal’s voice could be heard through the window behind the bar, which answered Silver’s most pressing question- did he know that Flint was just running a school cafeteria out of the bar? Apparently yes, and apparently the kids were just as excited, if not more so, to see “Uncle” Hal. Because of course they called him Uncle Hal, why wouldn’t they. God, Silver was going to have to book a fucking dentist appointment for all the tooth rot the sweetness of this was giving him. He helped Flint carry out the bags of food, Vane insisting the kids would be too scared of him while Flint argued that Vane was just scared of the kids, and Silver watched as Hal and Flint got the bags labeled for each child and into a push cart that Sola promised to bring back the next day when she passed on her way to her Aunt’s salon. He then did his very best not to pass away on the spot as each kid, even Nicki and Sola, hugged Hal goodbye. Flint had crouched down to say good by to the little ones, accepting their clumsy hugs, reminding them to be careful walking home, and asking them to recite the bar’s phone number for him just in case (though Silver was sure they probably had cellphones, even if they were elementary schoolers), before he stood and gave Nicki and Sola each a one armed hug and watched them shepherd the group outside again. “Only group today?” Hal asked and Silver thought his voice sounded a bit heavy. “So far. Powers out at their school though, likely a couple others’ll come by later. Want me to call around to the other bars and see if they’ve heard anything?” “Yeah call the food bank and the closest shelter too for me, see if we can’t drop off our end of night supply to them this weekend.” Later, several more hours of food prep and three more groups of wary looking kids who all seemed completely unafraid of Flint and his crew, plus a Thursday night dinner rush, and Silver finally got his explanation. He also thought he should have gotten the nobel prize for being able to keep his mouth shut for as long as he did. “So are we gonna talk about it?” Flint was sitting on the floor in front of him, half asleep already between his thighs, as Silver combed his hair. They had taken home food from the bar and shared a six pack between them on the deck, Thomas held up at a Client dinner where he was no doubt being wined and dined and bored to absolute tears. They had treated themselves then to a hot bath, with the jets, and were now just wasting time with the kind of nonsexual intimacy that Silver had learned he craved with Flint, waiting for Thomas to join them so they could all manage a good nights sleep. “Talk about what?” Flint asked, his voice a heady rumble. “The kids. And why they knew to just wander into a bar on a Thursday,” Silver said, keeping his voice gentle. He coated his hands in more product and worked it into the shaved sides and back of Flint’s head, massaging his scalp as he went. “Why you and Hal and the rest of the crew seemed completely unphased by it.” Flint hummed lowly, nearly a purr as he leaned into Silver’s touch. They’d settled into the bedroom Thomas and Flint shared, like they did most nights since it had the nicest adjoining bathroom and all the obnoxiously nice hair and skin care products. Silver sat in the old plush armchair, bundled up in a robe while Flint, naked and content to air dry, leaned into him, a picture of ginger hair, rich freckles, and well loved tattoos on a soft strong figure. If Silver hadn’t been so distracted by the day, he’d have been more appreciative. “S’not that big a deal. Lots of families round here with young kids, can’t keep an eye on them between working two or three jobs, haven’t got money for babysitters or relatives to watch ‘em, or enough to cover food for the week, especially when the public schools can’t feed em. You start to notice which kids it is, when they pass by, which schools they go to, which blocks.” “In Brooklyn Heights?” “They don’t live in this neighborhood, Silver, you know that, not all of Brooklyn has been gentrified to shit by the developers. Hell walk a few blocks east towards the tech school and you’ll find a lot of them. Or south towards Bayridge. Anyway, the groups you met today are all right from Downtown Brooklyn, they go to school nearby you’ve seen them.” “Yeah I just… I dunno, you see so much of the multi-million dollar condos I guess you forget thats not all theres is.” “Nicki lives with his mom, his dad walked out and she’s working two jobs to keep the one bedroom they share over on Jay street. He’s only thirteen but he tried getting a job with me washing dishes last summer, I turned him down, sent him home with some food for his trouble,” Flint continued. Silver smiled, he could picture the scrappy dark haired boy trying to square up with Flint, trying to convince him he was old enough to legally work. “Let me guess he wasn’t the first.” “Won’t be the last either. If they aren’t working for the family to earn some extra money or to cut back on hiring expenses they’re looking for shifts somewhere to pick up the slack. They’re losing out on being kids all because the rent keeps going up and there ain’t shit else to do about it other than leave. And a lot of them can’t even afford to do that.” There was a familiar grit to Flint’s voice, the old bitter salt that meant someone had touched a nerve. It scared other people, but Silver knew it just meant Flint was, for the moment, being vulnerable with him. “Were you Nicki once? Trying to bully your way into work?” Silver asked softly. He reached for the comb again and sectioned off a part of Flint’s hair to start working with. Flint was quiet a moment. “Yeah. Yeah worked the docks a bit as a boy, most kids did it to earn pocket money or to help out with the bills.” “Which was it for you?” “Granddad only had his pension. And he spent that on booze. So whatever I earned at the docks helping the fishermen, or from pickpocketing, that was what bought food. Kept the lights on, shit like that. I told you once, that I met Henessy that way, picking his pocket.” Silver laughed softly. “I do remember. You technically succeeded, didn’t you?” “Mm, he only caught me cause someone snitched. Broke that fuckers nose real good I’ll tell you.” They were quiet for a moment, Silver combing Flint’s hair with impossible care, working his fingers through any knots he found, before following with product and conditioner, Flint grew heavier and heavier against him, warm and soft and his. “So you and Hal decided to do something, the way you always do?” Silver asked. “Hm? Oh yeah- city isn’t doin’ much, food banks and schools are already over run, and when school holidays hit, they can barely keep up demand for kids who need free meals. So we got a few other bars involved, met with some schools and the food banks and sent out some notices and just- started feeding people. I mean thats why Hal wanted to open the bar you know? You feed people and you give them everything. You feed them and they’ll do the rest. So thats what we did. In a week or two when the schools are out for the summer we’ll have a couple trucks that’ll make deliveries, so the kids don’t have to come to the bar.” Silver hummed and kissed his temple. “You’re sweet.” “Am not.” “You’ll let me help, right? Prep the meals and stuff?” Flint tipped his head back to look up at him. “You want to?” “Yeah. This altruistic thing is new to me, as is the cooking for fun thing but… it matters, to you, any idiot can see that. And I want to be part of it.” Silver smiled and leaned down to kiss him best he could. He could feel Flint smiling into the upside down kiss. “You’re really good with them too, you know, which please don’t take this the wrong way, I did not expect,” he added when he pulled back. “What with the kids?” “Yeah.” “Oh no offense taken I have no idea how it happened. They just aren’t afraid of me for some reason. I fully expected them to be, mind. I used to think I had the kind of face that would make babies and small children cry but apparently they just, I dunno, think I’m alright.” “They trust you, thats a big deal for kids. Especially ones who have clearly been let down by other adults. I mean you also talk to them like they’re just tiny adults which probably helps.��� “They’re gonna be adults one day, might as well treat them with dignity well before they realize they should be fighting for it, you know?” Silver smiled softly, “Sometimes I don’t think you realize how magnificent you are, you bastard.” Flint didn’t say anything, just blindly reached for Sliver’s hands so he could pull him closer. So silver set aside the comb and rested his chin on the top of Flint’s head, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight to his weathered, tattooed hands. “You were good with them too, once you stopped being scared of them,” Flint offered. “Kids scare me, I’ve never spent enough time around them to learn how to make them happy. They’re so easy to hurt, so easy to damage. And extremely durable, extremely resilient but… I dunno… Just never trusted myself and never had the opportunity to do more than amuse them for a few minutes at a time before vanishing into thin air like Santa Claus.” “Well, you’ll have plenty of practice at the bar. I still think you were good with them. Little Sylvie likes you at least.” “Not as much as they love you.” Silver thought a moment. “Hey…” “Hm?” “Have… Have you and Thomas ever talked about kids?” It was a heavy question, one that might have been too much too soon and a part of Silver wished he hadn’t asked it. But there had been such a softness in Flint’s face when he’d spoken to the children, a kindness and a focus in his attention that meant he’d put time and effort into his actions, into making sure what he was doing was what the kids needed in that moment. It wasn’t just an adult slumming it with the neighborhood kids cause he had nothing better to do, it was almost, dare Silver think it, Paternal in nature. Paternal and the dread Captain Flint being used in the same sentence had not been something Silver had ever considered as possible, and yet- And yet it was, and it had piqued the old curiosity. Flint was quiet again, though he didn’t pull away or let go of Silvers hands, so Silver trusted that he hadn’t upset him. Silver held him tightly, turning his head to rest his cheek on Flint’s hair and wait patiently for him to speak. “Its complicated, pup.” “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. I never thought of you as a dad until today but now I’m… I won’t lie a part of me is still thinking about it.” There was a soft shuddering sound and Silver felt Flint shift in his arms, curling tighter in on himself for a moment before trying to settle again. Silver held tight, pressing his face into his hair. It took another moment or two, and several deep breaths, but Flint eventually spoke. “Thomas and Miranda were expected to have children when they married,” he said lowly, “all wealthy families expect heirs. But Miranda didn’t want to go through pregnancy and Thomas wasn’t sure if he could sire so they found ways of putting it off and focusing on Thomas’ political career. Thomas… he wanted to save the world, I’m sure for a while he thought he couldn’t allow himself thoughts of a future until that was done.” Silver hummed. That did sound like Thomas. Even now, with the chip on his shoulder and the somewhat colder view of the world, he still seemed to think he could save it. Silver wasn’t about to point out that Flint still seemed to think the same way. “And after everything I dunno I guess it just took so much time to remember how to be living, breathing people again, that children were never part of the consideration,” Flint said with a shrug. There was a weight to his voice, an emptiness that had Silver frowning slightly in surprise. “How can you care for a child when you’ve only just come back to life? When you’ve only just found reason to stay alive? It- Any child we brought into our lives would have been at risk, back then for certain, though I’m not sure a child would be better off now and besides with how much we work its not like-” “James,” Silver said softly, lifting his head, “you’re rambling.” Flint went still in his arms, still as if waiting for the lash that he knew would never come, but waited for all the same. The readiness with which Flint expected violence broke something in Silver, just as much as it felt like a mirror, smudged and smoky and cracked with age. “Is this your way of saying you want to be a father, but the thought of it terrifies you?” Silver asked. “The things I’ve done,” Flint said in a rough voice, “The stains my hands have carried- I’d see them every time I held my child. That’s my fear, I think. That I’d see them, and that violence would stain them as well.” He paused. Silver held him, hiding his own face. It was easier, they had learned, to talk about such things like this, with Flint’s back to Silver, their faces just hidden enough to give the illusion of control. How many secrets had they shared like this? Silver was losing count. “I was raised by a drunken old sailor and a bastard of a navy man who brought nothing but ruin- what could I ever give a child, John?” Flint asked, his hands white knuckle tight on Silver’s, his eyes the deep green of the sea, ghostly and far away. “What could I give them but that same ruin?” And what could Silver say in the face of that? So he said nothing, just nodded and kissed Flints throat until the tension in his shoulders softened and Flint settled back against Silver’s body to rest, weary and still haunted, but at least no longer at knife point in his own home. Silver went back to brushing his hair, singing softly to him as he worked, until Thomas came home and they were able to find more pleasant ways to spend their evening than discussing the sins of one’s father. They didn’t talk about the possibility of children again, not for the whole of the summer. They helped the food banks and the neighborhood families as best they could through the summer, made sure whatever kids stopped by the bar or the kitchen door in the alley left with something to eat, on the house. Thomas made sure checks were written to the shelters and the food banks that needed them, that the families that needed childcare could get it free of charge. They got through the summer, and the conversation never arose again. Silver just kept the thought of Flint holding a bright eyed child that sometimes looked like Thomas’ kid, and sometimes looked like his own, locked away safely in his heart and didn’t examine it too closely. Then Idelle had her baby in August. In October they held a two month belated baby shower for her at The Walrus, so the crew could meet little Wesley Ira Featherstone and his father, bless him, could cry with his crew mates about how proud he was while Idelle had her first stiff drink in over a year. Rackham was there, of course, as the boy’s God father (Silver was delighted by the idea because Rackham was absolutely as terrified by the concept as he was as honored) and Wesley took to him as well as any two month old possibly could. But when it came to crying babies, Rackham didn’t know what to do, and Hal the God Father to all and obvious baby whisperer was back in the kitchen unable to assist. And so Thomas and Silver watched as Flint, who seemed to be acting without really thinking about what he was doing (outside of scolding Rackham who was himself on the verge of tears) scooped up the baby and promptly rocked him calm within moments. “How did you-” Rackham stared at him in shock. “If you didn’t fuckin panic all the time then he wouldn’a started crying,” Flint growled at him, which Wesley found hilarious, if the slew of gurgling giggles was anything to go by. Silver watched, feeling his face split into a ridiculous smile, as Flint refused to give the baby back to Rackham until he’d sobered up, and instead let Idelle tie a sling around his chest to tuck Wesley into, so he could still fix drinks and use his hands while keeping the baby safe. “Sure you don’t want me to take him back?” she asked, Max watching with an amused smile. “You’ll have plenty of him soon, I got ‘im. Just give Rackham a 101 on how to actually hold a baby.” Silver leaned into Thomas as they watched Flint from their seats at the bar, humming as Thomas’ arm went around him automatically, pulling him close into his side. He looked up, curious to see what Thomas thought of his husband suddenly so at home with a child. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what he saw. Thomas’s face had gone soft, from the crows feet around his eyes to the laughter lines around his mouth, which parted in the gentlest shape of awe Silver might have ever seen on the man, as if he’d realized something he’d never considered before. His shoulders were rounded, leaning forward against the bar, hand fidgeting against the polished bartop as if desperate to reach out for his husband. Silver could feel the arm he hand around his shoulder tensing with the need to act. They watched as Flint moved behind the bar, one hand resting where Wesley’s head was under the sling, rocking him gently as he fetched fresh beers for himself and for Hal. Silver was watching his face, watching the way his lips were moving, as if he were talking to the baby, but he was just too far away to hear what he was saying. “He’s singing,” came Thomas’ voice suddenly, almost lost to the noise of the bar. “What?” “He’s singing,” Thomas said again, nodding to his husband. “Padstow Farewell, he sings it to me sometimes when I have nightmares, I’d know the lyrics on his lips even in the grave.” Silver smiled softly. “He sang it to me when I was recovering from my leg. I didn’t know it could be a lullaby.” “Neither did I but…” “But now-” “Yeah.” Silver reached for Thomas’ other hand and kissed his knuckles, leaning into him further. Thomas held him impossibly tight, resting his cheek on his hair. There’d be more to talk about in the morning, tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, next year. And there was a dizzying sense of joy in that, the same kind of joy that came from watching Flint carrying the future in his worn and weathered hands.

[shintorikhazumi]

“Diana.”

A/N: To be honest, I had wanted this to be a Diana-centric fic, from Diana’s perspective. I struggled to find a concept, and had a little help from a friend who sent me a random generator. (Thanks, Kate :>) And when I thought I’d just choose from a randomly generated idea, I came across this video on youtube which was actually a compilation of a tiktok series of the story of two neighbors. Of course, I changed bits of it, and obv the end so if you think you know what the source vid is, dw. I won’t hurt y’all like that ;-; And I’ll just link it at the bottom so no plot spoilers for those who don’t know what it is. Eyyyy.

This fic has a few song recs for y’all to listen to if you haven’t heard them already, lol. ;)

I had been looking for something... “emotional” for Diana’s bday fic. And I think... this works. At least for me, it does.  It’s not from Diana’s perspective, but... I think this works. So without further ado, Happy birthday Diana and...

oh, thank you to @tracedinairlwa​ for some help with the music :> that y’all will see later in the fic :’>. Without further ado,

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 It all started with a sunset and a few familiar notes from a piano.

No, it isn’t Akko’s piano. Her piano has been sitting in a corner of her room, collecting dust- untouched for months. And that is just the thing. Unless her piano has somehow become cursed and has decided to ghostly play on its own, then there had to be some other source.

The source of that gentle sound, Akko eventually pinpoints, is her apartment wall- or more accurately, what lies beyond that separator.

As she sits on her couch, admiring the expressive tones, her mind has decided that it wants to capture this special moment, and keep it stored lest she never experiences it again.

Making a quick dash for her bedroom, she opens her bedside drawer and fishes for her old camera from her university days in film club, back when she was an actual student of the Arts and all that creative jazz. She has tried to maintain it, but being under lockdown allows her few chances of seeing the outside world, and the few corners of her home don’t exactly spark ‘inspiration’ for any project.

Dusting the device off gently, she takes it back to the living room, placing it on her coffee table facing herself. She clicks the record button, thinking of making an introduction; but she quickly abandons that idea as she realizes it may take away from the sounds she wants to ring more apparent on tape.

Maybe she can just edit a few captions later on her laptop. Yes. That sounds good.

So she sits.

And the notes kept playing.

 //

[Video Diary(?) Diary? Is this a Diary? Day... Day 1. I hope it’s only Day 1. I hope there’s a day 2. And a three... and a five.

So anyway, Akko here. And uh... I got a new neighbor, I think. He/she plays the piano. I do too (kinda. Haven’t done that in a while, hehe).

I don’t know why I recorded this... this must seem like I’m being a creep, but... They just... played Chariot’s Melancholy from my favorite show and... it felt sadder than usual. The sound felt sorrowful. I don’t know...

I’m... moved.]

//-//-//-//-//

She does not know what compels her today, to slip that message under her neighbors door; but before she can even think about her actions, they’d already been done.

A simple, “can you please play ‘Ease My Mind’ by Ben Platt, maybe?” haphazardly scrawled on a piece of notebook paper is delivered with the anxious feelings of an interaction-craving Akko, starved of a social life since all this pandemic misfortune began.

She is sure she no longer knows how to string a proper introduction together after nearly a year of being by her lonesome.

This is about to change however. Starting today.

Maybe.

She counts down the hours ‘til sunset.

//

[Day 2! Yey! So uh... I kind of... went on the attack- no! I didn’t attack anyone! I just... You know how I have a new neighbor that plays the piano? I sent that neighbor a note.

And you might think that’s all fine and cute, but... I’ve never even met my neighbor... but...

I love his/her music. So much.

And I told them. On the note, of course. Duh, Akko.

I asked them to play ease my mind and... they did.

As you can hear in the video... I guess it was a yes. :>

 ...They eased my mind...

-Akko]

 //-//-//-//-//

She wants to try something today.

She has been thinking about it the past few days after continually being blessed with such beautiful music. Music that had attracted her like moth to a flame. The piano’s daily sunset singing compels her to come reunite with her own.

She had wiped it clean earlier in the morning and now sits awkwardly on the bench, punching down a random note here and there.

What a nostalgic tone.

The C major scale then the G. She plays it. A few arpeggios to warm up. F sharp major doesn’t sound too good, with her fingers tangling up as she traverses the scale. What was the fingering supposed to be like again? Right. Start with the fourth and second finger on the left and right hand respectively.

That sounds much better.

She hums a few tunes, choosing from a playlist arranged in her mind. She settles on something gentle and sweet. A Yiruma song. Just to get the feeling back in her hands.

A river flows as notes along the plain that is her silent room, adorning the quiet flourishes and curves, bringing color to her atmosphere.

She misses this. This tingle in her heart as music fills up her entire soul, not allowing her to think of anything else but this exact moment.

Yes.

This... This is nice.

And Akko plays until the sunset comes.

She can’t wait for it to come.

//

[Day 6. I... I haven’t played the piano in a while, and I’m a little rusty. But brave ol’ Akko here thought it’d be great to ask for a duet from the virtuoso across the drywall, haha. I left a note...

And I though we had something going. I was excited... I said that they could play once I stopped my part, but... did they forget? Or I guess they didn’t hear me.  

It’s okay... I can try again tomorrow.

I hope. Tomorrow...

-This has been Akko.]

//-//-//-//-//

She excitedly videos this weekend ‘meet-up’.

Akko still doesn’t know who lives across the wall, but she sure knows his or her favorite songs by now, hearing it daily at the same sunset hours.

She admires the music, as usual, but this time it’s different. This time, they had sent her a note. An apology for missing out last time.

They request a duet with her, to make up for it. Of course, Akko accepts. And now she starts it off, praying and hoping her sound is heard through the barrier that keeps their music apart.

She ends her part of the duet, waiting in the most agonizing few seconds of silence. She briefly worries that her neighbor had forgotten their proposition; or maybe they couldn’t hear her once more.

It’s fine, she thinks... It’s okay. She scratches her cheek, wondering if she should hold on until next time again-

There it is. That beautiful sound, so personal to the one living across the wall. A sound of emotion that could only belong to whoever it was living there.

Akko had never heard anyone else play the way her neighbor did.

She laughs, she feels herself tear up a little. It hurts so sweet in her chest. It’s a fizzy, bubbling excitement. It’s a stretched-out joy across her cheeks.

A success!

A beautiful one, indeed.

//

[Day 8: Akko here. My wish came true. I... got to play with my neighbor! Yay!

... Maybe I should go meet them now...]

//-//-//-//-//

They do it again.

Akko excitedly bounces in her warmed piano seat, listening to her neighbor go first this time around. She listens intently. Once the wall music stops, she starts. This was their agreement, their deal.

The river’s flow stills a moment, and that’s Akko’s cue to pick up the current’s pace once more.

She plays with shy gusto, caressing the keys in a way that shows how she’s fallen in love again. With the piano? With music? Yes. With- ...

Love, huh. It’s such perfect timing too.

Today is Valentine’s day.

Akko doesn’t know whether or not her neighbor has anyone special in her life like that, but if they share the same situation, all alone in their apartments, locked in by the pandemic, she just wants them to know she receives the message their music is trying to get across to one another.

Her heart feels it. It translates it.

It cherishes it.

//

[Day 13.

Dear Neighbor,

I just... wanted to share the words we’ve exchanged, not through any verbal means, but through the sounds that reverberate against the very foundations of our connected homes. Thank you for this message.

I know that music is... our way of simply saying

“I don’t know who you are ... But I’m here. You’re not Alone.” This is for you too.

-Sincerely, Akko.]

//-//-//-//-//

It is a challenge.

For Akko or for her neighbor, she doesn’t know. What she does know is that tomorrow is going to be the big day! She’s finally going to see the face behind the songs that have embraced her tenderly throughout the lonely struggle she hadn’t realized had weighed down on her so heavily.

The interactions they’ve had, the conversations, they brighten up her everyday, and Akko is somewhat afraid she’s gotten attached; addicted- if you will- to this unique bond she’s formed with another she has never actually met.

Her mind strays from her current piece, body autopiloting a song called, “Mind Conductor” that both of them just so happen to like, apparently. Another fact that makes Akko feel all giddy as they seem to share a taste in other media outside of music.

She feels herself vibrate with nerves and excitement.

It’s tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day.

//

[We’re Finally Meeting.

Tomorrow.]

//-//-//-//-//

Akko tells a story.

She’s met her neighbor, not knowing what to expect. Despite having a lack of said expectations, she could confidently say it was better than anything she could have anticipated.

She rolls up the sleeves of her flannel shirt, readying herself to write the melodious response to the already playing tune in the background of her video.

Though she tries to listen intently, waiting for her turn, she is distracted. She knows she is.

After meeting someone as wonderful as her neighbor.

Blonde hair and blue eyes invade her recall, flashes of a soft smile and calm voice playing over and over in her head.

Her neighbor is the most gorgeous woman she’s ever met. Breath-taking. Akko says this with utmost objectivity as her lungs struggle to function after first meeting the lady.

Hailing from Scotland, the twenty-five-year-old had introduced herself to Akko. They exchanged a few pleasantries, some questions and information.

Akko had asked how she’d never known she had such a talented neighbor, to which the response was an admission from the woman that she had just moved in and was only staying in the adjacent apartment temporarily while awaiting for a relative to come for her after selling their old house back in their hometown.

Her mother... rests. Having had a certain heart disease for a while, her immune system had proven very susceptible to the pandemic reaper that had claimed her life for its tallied count. She never knew her father, it seemed.

Akko’s heart breaks as she remembers these things.

“All I have left is the piano.”

That’s what she’d said to her earlier.

Akko’s fingers glide across the keys, playing her role in this drama for two.

“I play at sunset because my mother came home at that time from work... she was always stressed.

...I wanted to be of help to her. I was happy she loved it. As I grew up, it became a habit.”

Akko fumbles with a few keys, making a slight mistake. She hopes her neighbor can forgive her for being so distracted at the moment, and right after they’d finally met too.

“Thank you, Miss-”

“Akko is fine.”

“Thank you, Akko. You’re playing has, in truth, kept me motivated and less lonely.”

Akko remembers having promised before their parting to their respective units that she would keep playing with her until she moves out.

Akko blushes upon remembering the stunning smile she was offered afterwards.

Her neighbor had been camera shy and so Akko didn’t get the opportunity for a picture. She hopes for the best in the future. She’ll try again if ever the lovely lady was ready.

They have time, anyway.

They do.

//

[Day 20, folks! Akko here, writing another video caption entry, Diary, thing... haha. The song playing right now in the video is gorgeous right? It’s... her favorite song. It’s called, ‘In case you don’t live forever’. She said it keeps her loser to her mother. It keeps her in her heart.

She plays so beautifully...

She’s just as beautiful. She’s amazing.

She’s... a special soul.

I feel goosebumps.

I’m glad. For her. Her music doesn’t sound as sorrowful as when I first heard it. It’s still every bit as emotional, though. I could cry. Really, I could...

...I’m so happy she’s healing.

It’s a process, but... I’ll be here. I’ll be here for her.

I’ll be here for you,

“Diana.”]

//-//-//-//-//

There are times when Akko thinks she’d like to get to know her neighbor more, a little more chatting, a few more minutes talking. 

However, it always seems as though there’s this unspoken rule. This... ‘don’t-get-too-close’, ‘don’t-ask-more-than-you-should’. It’s like a boundary that keeps Akko from learning more, discovering more.

Neither of them purposely meet-up outside their closed doors either, this lockdown and what-not all up in their face.

They see each other around the building sometimes, wave a hand, shake a plastic bag of groceries, but building protocols don’t really allow loitering in the halls, and Akko feels she’d be crossing a line in inviting the girl over, and she doesn’t see herself getting invited instead either.

Despite this longing, she isn’t all too dissatisfied with the current standing of their relationship. Peculiar as it may be, she rather likes this.

A relationship built on a communication based on raw emotion delivered through their music.

If Akko ponders it deeply, it’s quite an intimate relationship, what they have. Thoughts and feelings in their purest form- unspoken, but not hidden.

She might not know too much about Diana. She may not know much of her past, or even her present, or general objective facts about the woman.

But what Akko does feel she knows is Diana’s heart. 

And Akko knows its utterly beautiful.

//-//-//-//-//

Moonlight Sonata has never felt so sad to her; its sounds reflecting something they both felt, Akko believed.

Akko feels her heart clench and ache in her chest, her face a little hot and her palms sweating.

Only a week left before the clock strikes twelve and the magic is broken.

Diana is finally moving out.

It is... their final duet.

How unfortunate.

Akko sighs, thinking about the pain she’ll feel later as she edits this portion of the video. Compared to the happy tones and build ups of all the others, this... is something she doesn’t know if she can do.

Maybe she can ask Amanda for a favor this time around?

She’s actually shown some of her closest friends her video logs, and they all had sent kind messages to Akko’s new friend, who in turn, felt worlds and worlds happier.

Akko feels happy as well.

Diana’s joy is contagious. It shows through her expressive music that gives away the feelings her face doesn’t show.

Speaking of Diana’s face... she still hasn’t agreed on showing her face on camera. Akko supposes it’s still too early. Maybe before she leaves? Oh Akko hopes so. She wants to have something to look at physically to remember Diana by. Not that she’d ever forget.

Still, a little memory help never hurt anyone.

Diana’s turn comes in smoothly through the wall, Akko unable to keep her smile from forming.

She’s going to miss this. The playing; the sometimes awkward, but unconventionally amazing duets; the letters shoved underneath door; and the very rare hallway meet-up where Akko can only smile at Diana as they exchange a literal word or two.

Akko reminisces.

The past... two months now, have been amazing. Incredible. Life-changing. Akko wonders what the future has in store for them both after they part.

Maybe they could meet again. Someday. Somehow. Somewhere.

Akko knows she’ll keep playing still. At the same time, on a weekend, as the sunsets. For Diana. She’s promised she’ll keep making the video logs. She’ll send them over to her so that they can still keep this music alive in some way.

//-//-//-//-//

[Day 62.

Hi, Diana. It’s me, Akko.

I... wrote you a song...? Or well, I started to... I’m not quite done yet, hihi. Got a little too ambitious and all... thought I could add some other instruments besides our- the piano... aha..haha...

When you first told me your story, I started picturing it out. A life dyed with all the colors of the spectrum. From the vivids to the grays, it was such a lovely imagery in my minds eye. A painting I could not get out of my head.

And so this song is... yeah. That.

A story.

A story about this wonderful twenty-five-year-old woman who so happened to move next door to this uninspired artist. She’d lost her mother to a stupid virus, and she’d never known her father. Her house got sold, and she had only one distant relative she knew of left.

She spends her days along in a box of white walls and empty silence. That is, until the sun decides to rest for the day, and it sends its golden rays of energy to the girl and to her piano that she thought to be her sole companion in this tragedy.

She plays her favorite songs, filling the emptiness with her own emotions; making the intangible manifest itself and cause a dumb girl next door to one day slip a scratch of paper underneath her door, asking for a song.

A note with a request... and with a message that she’d heard her feelings- her loneliness; and that she’d never let her be alone anymore.

And that’s how they became friends, huh, Diana?

Two pianos, Two people, and a wall that keeps them apart.

They didn’t know who was playing on the other side. But did it matter?

In this dreary, blackened time of the world,

‘You can be the light of somebody else’ darkness, so keep shining.’.

Dear Diana,

In case my playing isn’t as emotionally expressive as yours, I hope you at least know this now. Through this video.

That you were, and are... my light.

-Akko.

P.S. I hope I finish the song and give it to you before you leave.]

//-//-//-//-//

 She feels herself hyperventilating, her vision bleary. She can barely stand. She feels like vomiting, and dying, and screaming all at once.

Her anxieties run rampant all over the room.

If this keeps up, she may as well hurt herself beyond help.

She trudges over to the one thing that could ground her at the moment.

The piano.

Her hands are shaky as they do multiple attempts to turn on the keyboard, hitting the wrong buttons and turning the volume knob up too loud that when Akko accidentally leans against the keyboard, hand pressing down on many keys, the sound almost blows up her eardrums.

She curses, smashing a hand against those same keys, the cluster of notes echoing through her apartment walls.

“aaaaAAAAGGHHHHHHHH!!!!”

She allows the scream to tear out of her throat; emotions, wild horses finally released into the open.

“AGH! AGGHHHH!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH”

She falls face first onto the keys, now ignoring the loudness of their noise, momentarily thinking it would be better to allow her ears to bleed out so she’d never hear a thing again.

She wants something, anything, to drown out the pain she feels right now.

...

She sobs against the keys, head lifting as she apologizes to her piano, wiping off the tears that are quickly replaced by fresh ones.

Akko gives up and plays a note. Then two.

Then she’s playing ‘you’ll be in my heart’ and she’s crying more.

She lets herself cry as she plays.

Today, she was supposed to see Diana off. She had left a final note the day before yesterday, asking if she could do so. Help Diana carry her things, maybe swap numbers, and just... maybe keep this connection going for years to come.

Last night, she’d said good night at Diana’s door.

The girl gave her the sweetest smile, an almost unnoticeable blush on her features.

Oh, but Akko noticed anyway.

Of course, she would. With how shamelessly she stared at Diana at that moment.

Diana laughed, stepping closer and patted Akko on the cheek- kissed her there- before turning about to shut the door, along with the lights Akko saw go off from underneath it.

She was excited for the morning.

But when morning came... Diana was gone.

Akko had been thrown into confusion and a frantic state that she’d bolted all around, searching for signs or a left behind message.

Nothing.

She had then run down to ask the land lady, and that’s where she’d found out.

The heart disease Diana’s mother had was hereditary.

Diana had had an attack, and with an emergency alerting device, she’d been able to contact her only family, and had been taken to the hospital.

That was good.

That gave Akko relief and joy.

...so why is she despairing now?

...She didn’t know.

No, not the reason for her despair. She knows that.

The reason she was in this state is because she didn’t know.

She didn’t know what had happened.

She didn’t know Diana had suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night.

She didn’t know where she was, or where whoever took her.

She didn’t know that Diana had that heart disease too.

She didn’t know because she never got to ask.

She never got to learn more, know more.

... Did she not know Diana then?

Her mind taunts her, her heart hurts her.

She doesn’t know a lot about Diana. Not as much as she thinks.

That’s what they tell her.

For all the emotions they’d exchanged through music, that was the extent of it. Had Akko been too presumptuous in thinking she’d known Diana so deeply because of what they’d shared?

When in reality she may as well be a random stranger playing her show tunes and disturbing her neighbors.

Akko almost believes it.

But no... no. She can’t do that. She can’t assume those things. Not about their connection. Not about Diana.

Because Diana had told her once upon a song that she- that Akko had been her light. Her comfort. Akko believes in Diana. So she believes these feelings as well.

Yet these feelings of her own were so conflicting, so daunting. They battle in her mind, questioning and justifying every little thing. All things relating to Diana. Diana and... Diana.

Akko coughs out a few more sobs, throat incredibly dry.

She stops playing for a moment, dragging herself to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Then she goes back to the piano.

She... doesn’t feel like playing again.

What should she play anyway?

What song does she want to play? What song... Song... Song... Diana... What was Diana’s favorite song?

Diana? Song? A song for Diana? A song about-

Akko falls off her piano bench as she scrambles for her coffee table, sighing in relief as the papers for her composition are still there.

With shaky hands, she takes the sheets and a pencil and brings them over to the piano.

And she writes a few notes, then a few bars.

Diana.

Diana.

Who is Diana.

What does Akko not know about her. Her other struggles? Her sickness? Her trials and her fears? Her past?

That melody... sounded too sad for a parting gift. Akko doesn’t want Diana to feel more sorrow when she moves out...

Then....

What does Akko know? About Diana?

“Diana is...”

Expressive, emotional.

Diana is intelligent, an intellectual.

Diana is sincere and sweet.

Diana is talented and tasteful in music.

Diana is... her neighbor, her... new friend,

....Akko’s... what?

What was she to Akko?

“You are my light.”

-Akko ends up writing as a title.

But that’s a little too embarrassing to give to someone who was just your neighbor and a new friend... right?

And maybe it didn’t exactly represent the whole thing Akko had written.

So she erases it, biting her pencil as she tries to come up with a new name, a new caption for this creation.

What could it be. That describes Diana in her entirety; her life, her struggles, her joys.

Who is she? Who is Akko’s neighbor?

Akko scratches her head in frustration, wracking her brains even more.

With a sigh, she replies to herself aloud, the simplest, somewhat plain, and stupidly obvious answer.

“Well, she’s Diana.”

And it clicks.

That she is.

She is Diana.

And Akko throws on a jacket, a mask, and some shoes and thinks no more.

//-//-//-//-//

[Dear Diana,

I know very little about you

But you’ve changed my life.

Really you have.

You gave me back my passion, and a little bit more of that even. Maybe aroused a new passion within me.

I’d say, “You’ll be in my heart”, but that sounds too much of a farewell, to be honest.

And I’d rather not say goodbye just yet.

Not like this.

Music... Is a powerful thing. Despite the rampaging emotions I’d felt as I found out what had happened to you today, I- I kept playing. It grounded me. It helped me.

Diana, you once told me I was your light.

And you know I’ve told you already. That you’ve been MINE.

Diana. This video might look incredibly shaky and chaotic.

But please forgive me for that, and know that it is because I’m running with all my might to find out where you are. I got a hint for the hospital you might have been taken too.

It kinda seems like I’m a stalker now, huh?

I’m sorry. I just... I-

I can’t say goodbye to you....

Not just yet...

I still... have a song for you.

So... wait for me?”]

//-//-//-//-//

Eyes blink, bright white melting into color. They scan the room, looking for hints to identify her location.

Her body aches, her chest hurts. Her throat is parched. Her head is throbbing.

What is that annoying beeping sound-

Ah. Of course.

The hospital.

Again.

She hates it. She hates the smell of antiseptic and sterile sheets. She hates the taste of badly prepared hospital meals, and too-dry food.

The water has this strange quality to it when you’re in the hospital.

She knows this well.

She hates that she does.

She sighs, sinking into her pillows. At least those are comfortable.

Ugh.

What bad timing, really. For an attack.

She was supposed to move out today. She was supposed to meet with her aunt- who actually has probably met up with her by now, seeing as Diana is in a hospital and her usual alert device seems to be charging within reach beside her. Also she sees Daryl’s purse on the seat.

Maybe the woman had gone out temporarily for something important.

That was fine.

It just meant Diana was left alone again. If only for a short while.

...Alone, huh.

These past two months, she hadn’t been that.

All because of one girl, one Atsuko Kagari that she’d met by chance through a piano and through a wall. The sound quite literally carrying over through a wall.

Diana can’t believe she used to be so skeptical of thin-walled living spaces, wondering how people kept their privacy.

Now, however, she feels blessed that that was the case.

Else she’d never have met... her light.

That’s right.

When everything, her vision, her hopes, her heart had steadily been dying out, through her dim came a glow. That glow was the connection she’d found through her neighbor across a wall.

It had surprised her the first time she realized someone was playing alongside her one sunset session, months ago. She would have thought it creepy had the person’s music been any less captivating.

There were just so many colors in the music, there was just so much warmth. It sounded a little rough, a few hinges rusty at first; but it came along after a few pseudo duets, and then Diana had found these duets to be a staple in her life.

Then she met Akko for the first time, and more warmth and color came into her life.

Diana found herself enjoying the musical conversations they had, intrigued by thoughts that they were actually able to communicate in that way and understand one another to that extent, no words attached.

And she enjoyed these nonverbal bonding moments.

But when they actually wrote to one another, or when they’d have their short greetings when they’d meet up in the hall, Diana found herself wanting to draw even closer, to get to know Akko even more.

And when Akko asked if she could do the same, Diana had found it so easy to open up.

She’d loved to know even more about the girl.

But how would she do it now?

They didn’t have the chance to exchange numbers, and Diana was probably moving as soon as she left the hospital. Her things were already being shipped to her new home, after all. There wasn’t much reason to return to her apartment, really.

“Idiot. Stupid, Diana. Not asking her sooner. What are you supposed to do no-”

Two knocks on her door.

It doesn’t open right away. It doesn’t seem to open at all.

Diana deduces it’s not a doctor or nurse then. And it might not be Daryl either because the woman would have already called the attending nurse to open the door already.

So then, who could it be?

Diana tries not to let her mind wander and get her hopes up, because there is no way- just no way- it’s who she hopes it will be.

The door opens, and her breath is unexpectedly bated- and she releases it, seeing it’s just the janitor.

Trying not to let disappointment leak into her tone, she greets him a good mor-

“I’m glad... I was right.... hah... hah... You’re here... Diana.”

And Diana really shouldn’t just assume things such as being wrong, and that maybe her neighbor was a creep two months back.

Because now her neighbor, all frazzled, sweaty, and out of breath, is right there in front of her, a bunch of papers crumpled in one hand as the other is held over her heart, trying to calm herself.

“You... hah... didn’t let m-me... Sa-ha-y goodbye... so... you’re not allowed... to leave me waiting in silence and never respond...” Akko huffs. “There’s no more wall preventing you from using words now.”

Her breathing finally slows, and she manages to look up.

“I still have a song for you, after all.”

Diana doesn’t realize, nor does she feel the tears flowing down her face.

Akko doesn’t either.

“L-Let me know what you think... It’s my first song and all...” She becomes this shy blushing school girl as she approaches Diana’s bedside, awkwardly handing over the worn pieces of paper, all wrinkled up from whatever adventure Akko had been on prior to arriving here. “... then maybe we could play a duet again or something...”

She mumbles it so quietly Diana almost didn’t catch it.

She smiles.

She doesn’t think about the reality that was supposed to occur today had she not been taken to the hospital.

Virtual duets aren’t really her thing. She much prefers hearing sound in person, in real-time. She prefers the ability to adapt and adjust to play alongside someone; to feel expression and emotion first hand; to experience a duet in full.

So it’s a simple reply that she has ready, along with a smile on her face as she takes Akko’s hand in hers.

“I’d love that.”

 //-//-//-//-//

 Diana has told her many times that it’s thanks to her that she was able to recover as quickly as she did, and be out of the hospital in only a week.

Akko sheepishly denies that every time.

They’re both just glad things seem to settle to be alright now.

Diana leans her head against Akko’s shoulder as they share a pair of earphones, listening to the composition play on the latter’s laptop.

“I love it.”

“I know. You’ve told me that the past 4 months, everyday.”

“And I will continue to.”

Akko tries her best to hide the smile that had grown on her face, but it’s impossible. It comes out in laughs and a few soft tears, and she rubs her head against Diana’s.

“You have all the time to, it seems.”

“Yes, and I won’t waste it.” Diana quips, turning her head up to look at Akko with the tenderest of smiles. “Care to play?”

Akko simply smiles, before wrapping Diana up in a hug so deep, and warm, and tender. Without a word, she stands them both up, walking them over to two keyboards now positioned side-by-side.

They take seat. With eyes meeting, and a small nod, they begin.

They don’t need words to figure out the rhythm they’ll fall into, or what they should do, or who plays what part for today.

Akko’s colors seep out, her warmth embedded in her music. Diana’s expressive emotions tell Akko all she needs to know, and they play in harmony.

Together, they tell a story.

A story that began with a sunset and a few familiar notes from a piano.

A story about its music and what lay beyond a wall.

A story once called, “Diana”.

Now,

“Diana and Akko”.

  A/N: ....  Hrmmm... I didn’t like how i ended it, tbh,,, hahaha. I just... lost my thought process now. I’m tired and lost.

Anyway.

Based off this story

The follow-up to this won’t be now, or anytime too soon. Or tbh, I could just end it like this. But there’s this ache in my heart that wants to know what happens next as well. Or more things such as how Diana ended up staying. But well,

...who knows.

Bye for now.

~Shintori Khazumi

[shhhlikeme]

F*cked Out 💤

Ojiro Aran Domestic Smut (NSFW) part 2

A/N: I wrote this as a Part 2 to this fic, but it can be read as a stand alone!

18+, Explicit smut, praise kink, Aged up obvs, Timeskip spoilers

Tagging: @saitamastamaticsoup & @chunhua-s b/c these Aran stans found part 1 last night & their comments made me thirsty enough to write a pt. 2. Hope you like it!

also my lovely @qyuanon who I just read is back and I missed her💛

Futilely, you knocked on the door to yours and your man’s home office. Leaning on the frame, you crossed your arms. Being a literal isolationist when you had to work, you never understood why your man liked keeping the office door open. But then he told you once that he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t hear you calling him if the door was closed. ‘What if something happened and I didn’t run to you?’ He had explained, pouting when you laughed at him. It warmed your heart, but you decided not to call his name tonight, instead opting to physically pay him a visit. You had to, because what lead you here in the first place was serious! You had just woken up in the middle of the night because his side of the bed had turned cold. Yeah, that deserved nothing less than a visit from you! 

From your spot in the doorway you could see Ojiro sitting at the grand desk, his back turned to you, the lights from his laptop playing some Team Canada highlights. The screen bluelight shone brightly on his gorgeous dark skin, the back of his head bobbed up and down as he dutifully wrote down any important plays he was seeing so that he could tell his coach tomorrow.

“Babe,” You announced your presence with a soft smile. Your man is such a hard worker and he really doesn’t get enough credit for it. You tighten the robe you were wearing because it was always kind of drafty on this side of the house. “You have a game tomorrow.” 

Your boyfriend, captain of the Japanese National Volleyball Team’s shoulders slumped when he heard you, but he didn’t turn around. 

He didn’t have to.

He never had to. Even though you’ve only been dating for a bit over a year, you two knew each other so well that you could accurately tell exactly what kind of expressions, feelings, and thoughts permeated the other without having to be vis-a-vis. When you first met, your dates were—objectively speaking—oddly silent for the most part. The waitress once asked you if you were uncomfortable through an inconspicuous napkin note, which was kind of her—but the truth was that on that date you were actually more than Okay! It might have seemed odd to an outsider or eavesdropper that no sentences were being finished, and both people on said date were constantly staring down, away, or into each others eyes in silence… but realistically, neither of them could grasp the fact that words weren’t necessary when there existed a connection like yours and Aran’s. 

‘It’s fate. He’s the one.’ You had told your friends after the second date when you realized your mind reading wasn’t a fluke. Because as corny as it sounded then and even now in your memory; it was true, tf. 

Doesn’t mean you weren’t going to kick his ass for letting his side of the bed go cold, though. You were used to Aran being gone for volleyball so you had no problem falling asleep alone, but when you were ecstatic to have him home it was important for him to REMAIN home, which means staying in bed if you fell asleep on his chest! He has never done it before, so This is not Okay!

“I know, baby, I know…” your boyfriend calls to you, scribbling on his notepad faster. “I’m almost done. I-I think their setter could be doing one of two plays to start tomorrow, and I don’t think it’s the one I was sure about before we went to bed. And I mean, we play them until 12pm, so—“

“So nothing. You still have to be up by 6. The stadium is far and knowing you, you won’t sleep on the Team’s bus, you’ll still be watching these videos even then. I’ll—“

“Please don’t tell Iwaizumi-san, he will kick my ass! We’re playing Team Canada tomorrow and they are ranked just under us but—“

“Not by a lot, I know. I understand, but you guys will still pull the win. I know it....because Your team has you.”

Aran chuckled heartily, continuing to scribble with his back still turned, but his voice turned a little more endearing. “Thank you, baby. But.... I can’t seem to sleep tonight... I just can’t. I’ve been up this whole time so I—” As your boyfriend babbled on, you quietly interjected, 

“I know a way to get you to sleep.” 

“—won’t use my laptop in bed and wake you up when you’re sleeping so….wait….what did you—?” 

You smirked, knowing that your man knew why your voice had dropped a few octaves. He knew you were up to something, not because you two could practically read each other’s minds—moreso because you two had already established that that specific tone of voice of yours made his dick hard. The pen he was scribbling with stopped moving, finally, and you could just picture the way he gulped just now. 

“I know you can’t sleep, Ar…..” You made sure he could hear you clearly now, in the voice you only reserved for fuck-me-o’clock. 

A sexy smirk that Ojiro could see without looking at you played in his mind and on your face simultaneously. 

“Yeah?” He asked, his deep voice cracking. 

You kept speaking in that voice with one goal in mind.

“Yes, baby…” You hummed thoughtfully before stating,

“So why don’t you come over here and fuck me so hard it puts you to bed, then?”

Drunk off horniness caused by the amount sex dripping from your voice, the captain of Japan’s National Volleyball Team slowly turned the office chair so that he was facing you. 

Boldly, you turned your back to him at the same time and fiddled your hands that just tightened your robe. This time, instead of tightening it, you loosened the strings fully so your robe was wide open, facing the emptiness of your house. Knowing that your boyfriend was checking out and admiring your ass in that short silk robe and desiring the shock factor—in one motion you tossed the robe over your shoulders so that it pooled at your feet, exposing your completely nude back and backside to your man. 

“🤤 Shit,” Ojiro groaned, sounding as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. You just knew your man was biting that full and juicy bottom lip of his.

Swaying your hips to give your man a tiny show, you sauntered precisely where he didn’t want you to: away from him; heading towards the master bedroom. 

You kept yourself from giggling when you heard the aggressive shutting of a laptop, a volleyball announcer being cut off, and a certain volleyball player’s stumbling and cursing because Ojiro was practically chasing you out of the office.

***

“Mmmm…. Fuck..”

A few minutes later, your mind displayed a valiant effort by attempting to guess how your boyfriend looked right now, but it would be in vain. You couldn’t picture your man like you usually could because you were currently being fucked way too fucking well. Ojiro was filling you completely with just half his length, whispering horny-nothings to help you understand his feelings anyway:

“God damn, Y/N… Every. Time. Feels. So. God. Damn. Good,”

Now, If your mind was clear you’d be able to perfectly visualize how Ojiro’s face was scrunched up in pleasure right now, a coat of sweat coating his nude dark skin, the skylight over his head allowing the moon to reflect an insanely sexy glow sheen over his muscles due to the perspiration. 

“Auuh there’s nothing better than this, baby…”

If your mind was clear you’d be able to perfectly visualize how Ojiro’s head was tilted backwards right now, his mouth slightly ajar as he focused on not cumming inside you within the first few minutes of this because he needed to feel you cum around him first. As always. 

“Not when I hitting a line shot, not when I get a service ace.... nothing feels—auuuh f-uck— better than your pussy, baby girl..…”

If your mind was clear, you’d be able to see Ojiro on his knees behind you, holding your hips in his giant hands while he drove into you from behind, inserting only half his cock in and out like a pro, then surprising you with a fully thrust every now and then when he sheathed all 10 inches inside your heat.

“Mmm, so ti-ight, always so wet… damn,”

Despite your mind being clouded by immense pleasure, however—you did know that you looked absolutely wrecked with your face pressed in the pillow, blindly reaching behind you to tap or wave or pinch or do something to him since you couldn’t speak. You could barely made any sounds other than choked out moans because it felt so spectacular… but you didn’t have to! Aran knew that you wanted your boyfriend to stop playing and give you full strokes. His half thrusts filled and pleasured you more than any one ever could because he was huge and skilled in bed, he knew just how your insides liked to be stroked, but that didn’t stop you from silently pleading to him..

Even if Ojiro wasn’t holding back like always because he was very aware of his size and girth, even if you both knew that it would hurt you the next day like after a good workout, even if you walked funny when you had to attended his Olympic game several hours from now—you fucking needed it.

HE fucking needed it!

“Harder, Ar,” You commanded, “Deeper!”

“Fuck,” Your boyfriend panted, still not giving you what you asked 7 amazing strokes later. 

“Harder, now!” You cried as if you were whispering to the fucking pillow. You hadn’t the strength to lift your head. Your orgasm was fast approaching because HALF your man’s dick was too good and there was no way you weren’t bringing him with you. “Deeper, baby!”

“Y-you su-sure?” He asked worriedly. He always did this shit 🙄. He always worried way too much about your body soreness and way too little about both of your impending orgasms tonight rocking your motherfucking worlds. 

Ugh!

Good boyfriends and their fucked up PRIORITIES, amirite?!

Needless to say, you didn’t have time for compassionate Aran tonight. You needed him to fuck the both of you to sleep the way you knew he was capable of if he stopped holding back. Besides, he should have been in bed hours ago. You had to do this for the sake of the National Team! You had to this for JAPAN! (A/N: lucky b*tch shut your horny ass up)

So that’s why, in response to his asking if you were sure or not, you responded by clenching your insides so that your slick hole squeezed around your boyfriend’s cock. 

As soon as he felt you pulsing impossibly tighter around him as he fucked you halfway, his eyes rolled back in his head. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck…” He moaned deeply, so of course you continued doing it.

“Shit, Y/N, Okay, Okay,”

Without having to beg for mercy, your man did as you asked him to. He moved his hands from your waist to splay them on each of your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to make more room for his member that already barely fit (with your hasty prep and not his tentative one), but especially when your pussy clenched around him like that. With a loud moan from both of you, he bottomed out and stayed there for a bit to get you used to the size. You almost passed out by how good it felt pressing against your g-spot.

When Aran couldn’t take it anymore, and he started giving it to you: hard, fast, and deep. 

“Ye, baby, make room for me just like this…..” He moaned, gripping your ass tighter. “You want all of me? You think your tight hole can handle all of me?” He asked, no growled, still giving shallow but gratifying thrusts.

You whimpered, knowing that Ojiro knew the answer to that. Even so, you egged him on, “Sh-Show me why you’re the best top,” playing into your dirty talk from the last time y’all had sex like this but he was under you. 

Your boyfriend let out a long groan in his smooth deep voice and picked up his pace in reaponse, sending a new wave of wetness to your private. You were so soaked down there that it sounded like y’all were having sex in the bath tub, fuck. 

Your man loved it. 

“Mmmm, —m’ close beautiful,” He called, snapping his hips forward to meet you g-spot again and again. “It’s you, baby, it’s you,” Your man groaned. “Your pussy feels too fucking good……. I’d never pull out if I had to co-couldd,” 

“Oh, God. Aran!" You moaned loudly due to his dirty talk and praise, teetering on the edge of your release. Knowing that you maybe had 30 seconds left if you focused, you must have decided that you didn’t want to walk tomorrow at all because being the weakness of your bf you are, from your position being pounded into the sheets, you propped yourself up on your weak arms so that you could use the fact that your elbows were digging into the mattress as leverage to push your body back so that you met Aran’s deep thrusts. 

Like your boyfriends does every rare time he’s able to see your glorious ass bounce on his hard dick, his eyes flew open and he felt as though he’d been transported to heaven itself. 

“Y/N—auh, s-so sexy, aah, ooh, ohhh, fuck, Y/N,”

entranced, Aran couldn’t even last another second before he was stopping your movements with his hands, sliding them back on your hips to hold you still as his orgasm took his muscular frame by storm. He saw stars.

Of course, his orgasm triggered yours immediately, and you cried your man’s name as you came on his dick. He whispered yours as your insides milked him without influence this time, effectively lengthening your man’s finish. Panting, Aran just barely caught himself before his now exhausted body toppled over you. 

His last wakeful act, being the gentleman that he is, was to roll over so he wouldn’t crush you with his body weight, pulling out at the same time. 

You wondered if he registered that he said, “thank you baby,” before he began softly snoring—a sign that he was completely worn out and sleeping.

You smiled softly to yourself when you heard his snores, finally turning when you caught your own breath, to fully see your boyfriend’s stunning face. You endearingly brushed his goatee with the tips of your fingers, turning his sleeping face to yours so you could peck his lips. Then, you just barely had the leg strength to stand up on limbs that barely worked, removing his condom for him, then using the furniture in your room to support you as you cleaned the two of you up. You almost fell asleep standing up as you used a cloth on the two of you. Five minutes later, you were back in bed, under the covers with your lover and amazing man. 

Usually, Ojiro Aran slept like the dead (when he first moved in you occasionally have to check if he was still breathing...) , but you knew now that if he snored, that was a sign that he was so fatigued. You knew about the snoring, but the talking was new to you. Ojiro was so deep in his sleep after that round, that he was talking to himself in his slumber, whispering sweet-nothings about you that you’d never let him know he vocalized to spare him the embarrassment.

Besides, he didn’t say anything too embarrassing.... and you knocked out as soon as your head met his chest, not even feeling his arm sweetly wrap around your waist to pull you closer. So, you didn’t even hear most of his sleep-talk.

And maybe you were right when you called it fate, that drove the two of you.... because if it wasn’t fate that had you place your head on Aran’s chest at that exact moment, if it wasn’t fate that made you fall asleep at that exact moment..... then, I mean, you would have heard Ojiro not a second later declare aloud that he’s hiding your engagement ring in the office’s cabinet drawer. You would have heard theis the real reason he wasn’t able to fall asleep: because he was so nervous about asking for your hand in marriage before his Japan vs. Canada game tomorrow, when you least expected it.

Cause like, well, that totally would have ruined the surprise.

But you did fall asleep. Fate did that. So him sleep talking honestly never really happened.

And you know what else never happened? 

You never had to feel the cold side of the bed again where your man should be, at least not that night, because Aran Ojiro your new fiancée’s body kept it warm all night, because you were great and helping him fall asleep like a baby....making him just that:

 f*cked out. 

[namgee]

implications | knj

❥pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f)   ❥genre: fluff, slice of life (pg) ❥word count: 2.3k ❥summary: The adventurer life isn’t for you. You like your routines and you stick to them, but a small mess-up finally forces you beyond your desired level of social interaction as you rely on a stranger. A stranger whose actions and words imply things you wish to explore. ❥warnings: none  ❥a/n: this was just a quick little thing I wrote a few days ago before I got started on another smut fic which should come out in about a week 😋 ^^ I did a quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes 😣

A silence that sounds with turning pages, graphite scraping against thick paper and the ever present hums that arise from thought. Your ears anticipate it even before you're there. It’s, for the most part, the same soundscape you’ve grown accustomed to since you started visiting the art atelier. Well, the building technically has multiple ateliers, whatever your artistic interest, for a reasonable fee each month, you can visit the space and use their resources. Each floor focuses on certain subject areas, people are allowed to move around and work wherever they want. Like a Google workspace except for the arts.

You usually stick to the 4th floor, where most of the graphics tools are. The elevator dings, you step away from the metallic box and towards the senior part-time receptionist, Diane, who gives unsolicited artistic advice under the guise that old age equates to prowess in art criticism. The advice isn’t half as bad as you expected still, you rarely take it. You place your folder on the desk giving her a smile, teeth barely visible, it’s the best iteration of ‘a lady should always smile when talking to others’ smile you can muster with your lips chapped from the borderline glacial air you had to walk through this afternoon.

“Well, hello young lady! You haven’t visited the establishment in a while. Mateo has been asking about you actually.”

Mateo is the head of the graphic art department who you might or might not like, there’s still a few weeks left for you to decide. Your roommate, Jovian, had given you the ultimatum, “You have until you finish whatever creature you’re trying to collage together this time around,” she had said waving her half painted stiletto nail around before diverting her attention to another girl who also seemed to be having a hard time choosing as her family and in laws attempted to decide for her. On one thing you were sure, you would have said no to the dress she had on.

“There we have it! That’s a much better smile that one you gave before. It’s always best to show some teeth,” Diane says, her two row of teeth (some of which look awfully fake) in full display.

“I’ll sure think about it next time Diane. I’m just here to check in right now,” you sigh, removing your decaying gloves which have lost their purpose, your fingers are about as stale as Diane’s as you fish around for your membership card in your wallet.

“The time please darling.”

“3pm to 8pm,” you say blowing warm air into your palms.

It takes a few minutes for her to find your name in the system. “Oh sweetheart, it seems someone else already took your spot.”

“Exactly how did they take my spot?”

“Hmmm,” Diane’s eyes lift upwards as she tries to find an answer in the air, “to be quite frank with you I do not know.” She sounds shocked that she doesn’t know something.

“Uh, excuse me?” Someone questions from behind you. You both turn towards the voice coming from a golden haired man sporting what is most likely the best variant of the fully toothed lady smile Diane advocates for. To make matters even better it’s shaped like a heart. “I believe that I was the one who took the spot.” he giggles nervously as if caught red-handed before sliding his own card onto the desk.

You assume he’s here to work with graphics for some sort of fashion related purpose, in fact he sort of looks like the graphics plastered around the building: colourful, bold, warm but still a bit overwhelming.

“You’re indeed the one who booked the slot first, young man.”

“I believe that this is what the trainer for my position was referring to as a glitch in the system.” Diane says with an air of pride.

“Hm, sorry about that,” The human embodiment of a colour wheel says with an apologetic pout.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure I can find another place, it isn’t your fault,” you wave your hand around giving him your second or third genuine smile of the day. He mumbles a shy ‘okay’ before heading right, away from you.

“Can you see if there’s any place on the other floors?” You reluctantly ask, after all you had never gone to other floors unless it was to buy snacks because the queues on the 4th floor were too long or to find unoccupied bathrooms.

Diane finds you an opening for the floor above. You thank her and move back to catch the elevator doors right before they close, swiftly slipping in towards a surprised figure, a big figure. You mumble a quick apology after bumping into him. When you turn your head to look at him he gives you what you assume to be his own equivalent of the barely noticeable smile you gave Diane a few minutes ago.

The ride takes a few seconds. You rush out the second the opening of the doors is big enough for you slip past if you just take a deep breath in. Another second goes by where you feel disoriented. The floor layout is not that different from the one beneath but the place looks far more cramped than what you expected. Don’t writers like to be alone? In their own space?

You watch as Mr. Big gives yet another one of his glances, you haven’t figured out how to describe them yet, you don’t know if you’re being judged or just being perceived or whatever it is that writers do.

He goes to the right, so you take the other way. You peruse the space for a place you could sit down to work on your project. Somehow, the writers with their notebooks and laptops seem stingy about letting you settle down despite how packed the floor already is.

For every glance you take at a potential working spot you receive three glances and these ones you know to be of the judgy kind. You walk and walk only to end up on square one. Just to make sure, you do another round and another one as if you were in a full parking lot waiting for one of the cars to magically pull out for you to get a place. By your third tentative walk, the one where you put the most effort to seem approachable and nice, someone takes pity on you.

It seems it’s not only his stature that is big but so is his heart.

“Oh god, thank you!” You sigh, sliding into Mr. Big’s little corner which faces backwards from the café.

“It was starting to look... sad.” He gives you a brief look before focusing back on his laptop screen.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you writers were more welcoming,” you scoff, shrugging off your jacket, the rustling brings your actions to his focus.

A delicate slender hand pushes against his glasses as he leans back, “You’re quite the daredevil, huh?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, slipping past closing elevator doors and sitting down to probably do something noisy with a lot of... “ He takes a look at your stash of materials, “things while surrounded by silence seeking writers. Those things make me say that.”

“That’s a very boring view on action. Also the concept of this building is literally to allow anyone to work anywhere.”

“Sure, you’re right but just because that’s their goal doesn’t mean it turns out that way. This place is no different from high school, certain spaces have been sort of ‘claimed’.”

“And you expect me to act like a good teenage girl and not start trouble?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Aren’t you a writer? You should know certain words can imply certain things,” you say matter of factly and receive a disjointed but delightful laugh as his hand fists to cover his wide smile.

“Anything else you know about writers that you would like to share?”

“You might end up making a character out of me, or a scene out of my situation.” You’re playing on stereotypes but for all you know they could be true. You lay out your material on the table forcing him to scoot a bit. He doesn’t protest and you appreciate that, so you give me a genuine tight lipped ‘thank you’ smile.

“So what are you doing?” He asks, lowering his computer screen a bit.

“A collage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’m just figuring it out as I go.” You stare at the big pile of magazines, newspapers and flyers you managed to collect over the past month. Something has to come out of it. “What about you?”

“Pretty similar actually, I just came here to write, figuring it out as I go you know.” He picks up a piece of paper nearest to him, a green flyer. “Do you even know what it says?” He holds it up to you. The text is in Arabic.

“No, I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know? I mean the work will be tied to you.” He questions.

“It doesn't matter, it’s not like anyone will see this,” you mumble, snatching the flyer from him.

“Someone should, I don’t know much about collages, actually I know nothing, but I like what I see so far.”

“What exactly do you see?” You probe.

“Ummm… uhhhh… it’s– there’s branches and,” he leans over to get a better look and hesitates “tentacles? Okay, so maybe I don’t know what it is, but I still stand by it. It’s nice to look at.”

“Would you give it as a gift to someone?” You probe even further.

“You know what, I’m just trying to tell you I like it. Like I would totally buy it! So yes, I would give it to someone, myself!” He has an overly cheery voice that encourages more glances your way. The more you look, the more you start thinking they’re watching you and not judging.

“How much?”

He gives you an incredulous expression, he seems both intrigued and confused with behaviour.

You snort a short laugh, “I’m just messing with you. But don’t get me wrong if you do want to buy it then I’m definitely taking offers.”

At that he retreats back into himself and his silence to focus on the blank document page. You shrug it away, you knew his words were too good to be true.

The two of you work in relative silence, your ripping and cutting does add a bit of a soundtrack for the period of time. After an hour or so of working, you move to buy a cinnamon bun, and while you’re at it you buy a second one. You did feel a bit apologetic for disturbing his workspace, you of all people should know.

You place his plate beside him but he’s too engrossed into his writing to provide any response. He does finally whisper a shy ‘thanks’ once he lifts his gaze from the screen. You answer with a nonchalant but truthful ‘no biggie’.

The hours bleed into themselves and soon enough your allocated time is about to run out. You’re quite used to that routine,packing up your material well in time to leave. However, the man in front of you doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of time. Last minute, he hurries to assemble his belongings, swiftly turning around to check that he hasn’t left anything behind, almost knocking down the plate that you manage to catch.

Your elevator ride to the bottom floor is as silent as the one you had earlier. You walk with synchronised strides somehow following the same way after you leave the building. You’re sure one of you is following the other, but as long as you’re concerned you’re taking the way back home. You walk in silence for a few more minutes before you think of asking him where he lives, just to make sure but he beats you to speaking.

“So uhhh, would–” he starts off in a high pitched voice which he masks with a cough, “I meant, would you like to grab a coffee?”

“At 8pm?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Or a drink?” He suggests.

“What does coffee or a drink mean?”

“I thought you were good at getting the implications of certain words.” He smirks, which seems out of character, but then again you don’t know him. You’re just curious about something first.

“What did you end up writing?”

“A short story about an avid museum visitor that discovers a collage at an exhibition that has him intrigued.” He chuckles knowing very well it just proves your point. And you smile satisfied to have finally figured out what that particular glance of his meant. He was just taking you in.

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you would have reached out your hand towards him but they’re cold so you compensate with a warm smile Diane would approve of. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink right now.”

“I’m Namjoon and I’m very happy you said that” He punctuates his excitement with a dimple. The same one you would come to grow enamoured with, so much you would make a collage piece out of all the pictures you’ve taken where it is present. In return, he would, just as he did today, unconsciously and deliberately write your works into his stories, and welcome you into his space.

“By the way, when you let me sit with you in your space, were you claiming me then?” You ask out of curiosity and urge to mess with him.

“I– I don’t know what you’re implying. But if you mean me taking pity on you then yes.” You scoff a bit too loud at his response. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it is you have in mind,” He says, looking down at your quizzical expression with warm eyes and a restrained laugh as he walks closer to you. It seems you’re not the only one who’s good with implications.

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

all rights reserved namgee

[bippityboppitybibuck]

This ficlet is written for and inspired by @valleydeans A Ghost Story. It contains spoilers to the entire story, so please don’t read this if you haven’t finished reading it yet. Wc:1400, no extra warnings (warnings for original fic stand) Italicizes mark establishing narrative the rest is in Cas’ POV.

It first plays on the old radio that sits attached to the bottom of one of the kitchen cupboards in the townhouse. Both Sam and Dean forgot it existed, left behind by the previous tenants, since they never had cause to use it but it was simple enough that Cas managed to get it turned on.

Granted it was only because the button was labeled Power; Cas knows even a moron could have figured that one out.

Cas didn't know how to change what music played at first, so he pressed buttons until something happened and took note of the outcomes. Seek seemed to be his friend, AM did not, and one afternoon while Dean and Sam were out at class or work or the library - there were so many places for Dean to be now, back before his resurrection Cas could have just walked around the grounds of the manor until he came upon him but now Dean is as hard for Cas to find as his place in this new time is - he finds a station that played a lovely song with a piano (Sam later told him it was an ‘indie station’, he doesn’t know how to tell him that he has no idea what that means) soft lyrics fell upon his ears and he lost his afternoon to meaneal tasks while the music floated from the small machine.

He takes notice of a song that starts to play only because it is in such contrast to the music the machine has been playing for the better part of the afternoon. There's a heaviness to the melody, an intensity that the other songs lacked, he spends much of the song listening only to the instruments.

The only line that actually sinks in after that first listen is “there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin” and he can’t understand why his chest seems to expand against his ribs while his lungs squeeze themselves together because he’s never heard the type of lyric that was made to hit you square in the chest because, well, there’s not been a lot of music listening aside from piano and string quartets in his life.

He asks Sam how to learn the words in a song and Sam shows him how to get to a ‘Google tab’ so he can look up the song (Sam reckons a genius lyrics page might be a little too much for Cas). He types the words he remembers into the ‘Google’, and is decidedly confused by what can only be the name of the song. Take Me to Church, while a lovely name, stands out like a sore thumb in his head alongside the titles of the pieces he aimed to perfect in his old life.

He spends as much time as possible over the next three days listening to the song on ‘Youtube’ while he reads the lyrics, he just barely manages to stop himself from writing the lyrics out on paper so he can look at them when he’s away from a computer (like when Dean heads to school with his laptop and he can’t listen unless the machine - a ‘radio’ apparently - decides to play it)

Each line draws him in and pushes him away in equal measure, humor for Cas doesn’t mean laughing at a funeral it means Dean teasing him, tickling him, smiling as he waits for the joke to land on Cas’ ears. But still they all seem to resonate beyond what he thought was possible, Dean was always met with disapproval, he always wanted to worship him in any way he could, even now he curses the moments they could have had together if only one of them had been braver before the night spent in their clearing.

“We were born sick / you heard them say it” and “I was born sick, but I love it” stop his breath cold on every listen. He doesn’t allow himself to look too deeply into that, he’s long since accepted himself and delving into beliefs of a time long since past does no one any good.

What strikes him as odd is that there's a violence to the love and devotion that he can’t really understand, worshipping like a dog and revealing your sins to the sound of steel being honed isn't how he loves Dean, isn't how he sees Dean as his salvation, he writes hymns inspired by Dean. He doesn’t, could never, equate his devotion to something so lacking in softness, not when he can still feel the tufts of Dean’s hair under his nose or the petals of the roses Dean winded up the trellis on the side of his balcony.

The focus on a violent love turns him off from the song but there’s a pull in his mind with each iteration of “offer me my deathless death” he knows enough to know it might be a reference to sexual pleasure but he can't shake that something about the line draws him in, what with his death being undone when Dean brought him back.

The bridge, as the website calls it (Sam does eventually end up showing Cas the genius page), he reads the most, over and over and over and he thinks how it was just him and Dean in those stolen moments, how the doctrine he was told to follow labelled him a sinner but with Dean that didn't matter, it didn't even filter into the moment. The ritual the man sings of, the scene that plays out with it, becoming clean, human, he can’t even put words to why that settles so deeply into his chest, why it makes sense to him even though he never truly felt dirty about the things he and Dean did, the love they shared. But the truth of the matter is that Dean made him human again that night in the manor, and in doing so made him clean, clean of the never ending hell of the manor, just like he had promised to do all that time ago.

“Let me give you my life” sits heavy in his skull, it scratches at something deep within his brain for weeks. Ever since he first took the words into his head something about them made him think of them. It didn’t make sense though, Cas’ death hadn’t given Dean his life. Hell Cas’ death almost surely led to Dean’s own. So why would this lyric stick with him?

It's about a month after the successful ritual that he hears the song again, a fluke video on ‘autoplay’ on the youtube tab Dean keeps open for him. Let me give you my life. Let me give you my life. Cold fingers dance along the hairs at the nape of his neck, blood covers his hands, a redo, a trade off. Let me give you my life. And then a trade again, Dean to him this time. Let me give you my life. Good god, let me give you my life. The weeks spent ruminating over the line make sense now, as though some deep part of him always knew of the choice he made that night, the choice to save his love, the choice to give his life for the only thing that ever made him feel alive.

In the wake of his completed reincarnation, the sloughing off of death’s hold on him, the song takes on intense new meaning, which is no surprise really. His heaven is and has always been the moments he and Dean spend alone together, afternoons in the music room or midnights spent wrapped around each other. His lover is the sunlight, to keep the goddess on their side Cas and then Dean offered their sacrifices. Deathless deaths in multiples, love is worth more than what Sunday’s used to hold.

One night he plays the song for Dean, when the spring shoots are digging their way to the surface and the snowdrops are withering. He says nothing when Dean’s hold on him tightens as the song plays, he doesn't mention the hitches in his husband’s breath or the redness in his eyes when Dean hits replay on the song. He doesn’t bring up the way this song seems to recount their story with startling accuracy, he knows Dean understands. Take Me to Church... they needn’t worry, they’ve already reached salvation.

Sam sneaks the song into the playlist for the reception, their guests assume it’s just another popular song with a decent beat but for them it’s undoubtedly more.

[cindersandroses]

Digital Get Down, Chapter 1

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 1/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Sized OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard... never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

AUTHORS NOTES: This idea happened while we were floating around our pool a few days ago. I don’t foresee this being very long, but as always, if you want more, we will write more.

Also on AO3!

Chapter 1

SuperHank: Hey girlie girl, I did it! I got the pass for DragonCon. After almost 10 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days, I’m officially coming to meet you!

OrcPrincessPeach: Yay! Are you sure you can afford it... and the airfare?

SuperHank: Dollface, for you, I would move the oceans and walk to you. I can’t wait. August seems so far away.

OrcPrincessPeach: Be still my beating heart, you sappy romantic. I can’t wait to see you.

SuperHank: Same here. I gotta go raid. I will talk to you later. I’ll text you before I go to sleep. Have a good day at work.

OrcPrincessPeach: I will see you later tonight!

Opal closed the laptop and smiled to herself, trying desperately to keep a squeal of delight from escaping her lips. Nothing ever made her feel as amazing as talking to Hank did, even when it meant little sleep and getting up well before the sun to do it. But Amber, her roommate, would be the first person to yell at her for making too much noise in the morning… especially since it involved Hank, whom Amber did not particularly like for some reason.

Nevermind that he and Amber had never actually talked to each other. And, in fact, Opal had only ever talked to the man herself, too. Well, “talking,” in so much that they called each other, texted each other, and chatted on the World of Warcraft message boards about everything and nothing at all. There was the one time, though, when she had been “talking” with Hank, that she may have gotten too loud during a little early morning (for her, anyway) phone sex.

So maybe Amber did have a point.

Opal’s cheeks heated at the thought, replaying the memory in her head as she pulled on her most adorable red peep-toe pumps. All the boys in her programming pod at Blizzard loved it when she wore them; they always made her feel like she could take on the world. Because, seriously, who was going to mess with a woman wearing sky-high red heels during the day? It was amazing what she could convince her fellow game designer nerds to do when she wore these heels with this outfit.

She smoothed her otherwise fairly normal navy blue sheath dress over her slightly rounded belly and wide hips. These clothes were her armor against the world, much like how her orc character dressed in the game. Opal and her orc both needed the image that they could take on the male-dominated World of game design, when in reality, she could very much be a shrinking violet. Especially when it came to her body.

Hence why she had only shared very, erm, specific photos of her body with Hank, and him with her… in the best light, angle and pose. He had an amazing body, and she, well, she didn’t have an amazing body. It wasn’t terrible, per se. It did the things she needed it to do, but she certainly could have spent more time at the office standing desks or in the employee gym. But her red pumps wouldn’t allow her to do either.

So she just had to hope--and pray--that when he saw her in the harsh light of day that he didn’t run away screaming. Because there certainly had been a few online boyfriends before this who had done just that.

Opal left her room and carefully made her way downstairs to get her bag together for work. Tycho, her rather large ragdoll cat, was laying on the back of the couch, half on the black bag and rubbing his chin on the rigid canvas handle. Clearly, the bag was his now, just like everything else in the house.

“Hey, you better move it, buddy. I gotta get to work so you get good gushy food.” She pointed at him.  “Be gone when I get back in here.”

Tycho rumbled a low meow in response and didn’t move.

“Freeloader,” she mused.

She headed into the kitchen with a huge smile returning to her face and butterflies making her slightly queasy. After almost a year, she was finally… finally… going to meet the boy she’d been dating online. Most people would take that as a sign that this was all it would ever be--online and still fairly impersonal.  To be fair, though, Hank had planned to come and see her once before, but work had not let him.  And it wasn’t like they were on the same continent, normally. They were halfway around the world from each other. But this time, he swore up and down that this was going to be it. They were going to cohabitate in the same hotel suite for a long weekend, and make good on all the very dirty promises they had made each other in the ten months they’d been “together.” Of course, she was well aware that he still may cancel, but for now, she was going to live in her dreamworld.

Amber was already in the kitchen as Opal made it into the room. Her roommate sat bleary-eyed at the kitchen table and stared at her cell phone screen.

“You already made coffee?” Opal asked.

The brunette nodded and motioned her head towards the almost full pot.  “Yeah, cause I didn’t have to get up at a stupid time in the morning to talk to my internet boyfriend.”

Opal rolled her eyes. “Amber, it’s not that bad.”

“Really, Opie? What time did you get out of bed this morning?” she asked, her eyebrow peaked.

Opal sighed. “Six.” Amber shook her head.  “It’s not normal. How long have you been ‘dating’ this dude?” she asked, emphasizing her point with air quotes and all.

“Almost a year, but he and I are finally meeting. We’re going to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon. It’s a halfway point between us, we figured it would be neutral territory,” Opal explained.

“Is Con really ‘neutral’? You’d live at a con if you could.”

Opal ignored her comment. As far as she was concerned, it was neutral… and certainly big enough to get lost in the crowd if things didn’t go well. She certainly didn’t want to bring him around her house if Amber planned to be there to scare him away.

Opal continued with a light, dreamy sigh. “It’s going to be super exciting. I’m ready to meet Hank. He is a fantastic guy; he is kind, funny, loves his family.”

“Sounds like you’re describing a labrador. Next thing, you’re going to tell me he is loyal and in love with you,” Amber replied, shaking her head. “You can’t be in love with someone you have never met in person.”

Maybe Amber was right, after all. How much could someone truly know a person from what they say alone? It’s merely a facet of who they are. Actions were also huge, and he had not yet proven anything to Opal in that category.

But still, Opal was sure Hank was different. She’d had a lot of online boyfriends throughout her life--her life revolved around the computer, so it was only natural. And comparing all the other examples with her current love interest, this just felt different. Like… it might actually be real.

“You can love their heart, and I adore him. He is pretty great. I’m just hoping he’s the one.” Opal grinned.  “We would have an amazing story to tell our kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids.”

Amber pressed her lips together into a terse line and returned to whatever was on her phone. “Well, when this all bursts in your face, Opie, you just come home to me and remember that I love you no matter what.”

Opal smiled. “I know, Amber. You’ll pick up all the pieces. But I don’t think that’s going to happen with him. I don’t know. He’s different.”

“Does he know?” Amber asked, the cup of coffee close to her mouth.

“Um... know what?” Opal asked.

“That you’re not some skinny bimbo?” Amber asked, motioning in her direction. Amber’s eyes scanned her body slowly, critically. “All the people on the internet have this idealized image in their head that the person they’re talking to is Giselle Bundchen, not Ashely Graham or Tess Holliday.”

“They are both gorgeous and many men are in love with them,” Opal defended. “And they’re both married.”

Amber shrugged. “I’m just preparing you for it, if it happens. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

This conversation, though, was hurting her. Hank wasn’t the direct cause of it, just a reason for Amber to start this. She knew Amber had her best interests at heart--no friend wants their friend to get hurt--but the way she achieved her goals, and the words she used, were not nice.

Opal sighed. “Look, he knows I’m fat. He knows I have curves and I’m not a size two. He and I have had several conversations about the fact I’m not some little skinny thing. He said he adores my heart, and he doesn’t care what kind of body it comes in.”

He also said he preferred thick women because he didn’t feel like he was going to break them when things got… athletic. But Amber didn’t need to hear that, either.

“My god, if that isn’t a line,” Amber scoffed.

Opal shrugged. “Amber, stop! Your thinly veiled attempt to fat shame me isn’t going to work. I’m going to go to Atlanta, I’m going to meet him, and I may even sleep with him.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “You won’t have sex with him. You’re a 32-year-old virgin.”

Opal shrugged. “You know, stranger things have happened.” She twisted the top on her thermos. “I’m going to be late for work, I’ll see you later.”

She walked back into the living room, removed the cat from his perch, picked up her bag and headed out the door to work. As she walked the block to the bus stop, she pulled her phone out and put on the playlist Hank had built her. She smiled as the songs began to play, each one having a special meaning to both of them. He was always adding new songs with little notes about why he added them.

These little love notes never failed to make her happy again. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if they ever stopped.

She knew what Amber said shouldn’t bother her as much as it did, but she was self-conscious. Her body had always been something that set her apart and had made her shy when it came to men. Of all the potential dates she’d had with online boyfriends, she had only been on three real dates in her adult life. All of them turned tail and ran once she said she was a virgin. So for those very few that were able to get past the body issue, those three considered her lack of experience to be insurmountable.

Hank didn’t make her feel like that. He didn’t seem to care, or if he did, it wasn’t a deal-breaker. If her lack of experience didn’t do it, there was a very real possibility that her other image issues would be the end of it.

When she arrived at the bus stop and sat down, Opal made the decision to push Amber’s nagging voice out of her head. She wasn’t going to let Amber break her confidence. Hank adored her, for who she was, and that was all that mattered.

She turned her music all the way up to block out the self-doubt and scrolled through her playlist, looking for her favorites. At the bottom of the list, added only a few minutes before, was a new song. Opal giggled and clicked on the song, closing her eyes to listen to the electronic 80s synth and Richard Marx croon, “Right Here Waiting.”

[trickstermiraculous]

Been reading your prompts fic so here’s one: Marinette makes a game of counting how far into a conversation someone gets before Lila relates it to herself with a lie. Adrien joins in and then Kim joins in cause it’s fun and randomly calls out numbers. Soon Kim is making bets on it with Marinette. (Prompt is from a discord server I’m in btw in case you post it and it gets recognized)

A Simple Game 

School used to be a safe haven for Adrien, a chance to be away from his father and the suffocating silence that was his house but recently with Lila’s arrival back at school. Adrien finally understood what people meant by school being hell.

She was everywhere, always clinging to him, way more than Chloe ever did at least she gave him room to breathe but with Lila, there was no chance of that happening.

Marinette also looked worse than ever while Lila did accept my deal in order to get Marinette back to school, Lila went straight back to making rumours about Marinette and what’s worse people have started to believe them like Marinette, the girl who was our everyday Ladybug. Sadly there was no chance of me stopping them since Lila started using my father as a threat in order to get what she wants and I knew she would follow up on that threat considering she has followed that threat she gave Marinette.

Trust me when I say that I wanted nothing more than to use cataclysm on Lila right then and there but I can’t do that, I’m supposed to be a hero not some sort of murder.

Right now, I finally got a chance to hang out with Marinette along with Kim and Alix since Mrs Mendeleiev gave us a group project and would not allow Lila to try and join us since it was random and wouldn’t be fair on the rest of the class.

We were studying at Marinette’s house, Alix was sitting on the floor typing on her laptop while Kim was reading a textbook on Marinette’s Chaise, Marinette herself was sitting by her desk on her computer while I was sitting quietly on a bean bag her parents brought me so I wouldn’t have to sit on the floor if I didn’t want too.

Sitting here though in silence was a surprisingly nice change from what usually happens when doing group projects. Whenever I did studying with Nino, Alya and unfortunately Lila, it was never quite what with Alya and Nino being romantic that an Alya tries to get me to ask out Lila which Marinette did warn me about when we started to hang out more outside of school when I had the chance and I noticed that she didn’t seem as nervous around me and well she kind of just blurted out everything.

Her crush on, the many attempts on asking me out along with a few admittedly creepy thing like the schedule which she apologised profusely and considering the fact Alya and the other never really stop it more like in encouraged it, I understand why she didn’t realise it was wrong until later.

Anyways back on track, the silence was nice and for once work was getting done but unfortunately, it didn’t last. Alix phone dinged and as soon as she looked at it she groaned, “What’s wrong?” questioned Marinette as she reaches for an apple from the tray of snacks that her parent’s brought us.

“It’s Lila in the group chat, Juelka brought up the fact that she wanted to try out for some modelling jobs and Lila started going on about how she knew a bunch of famous models and she would try and see if they could help her train” respond Alix glaring at her phone,

“I’m assuming this the girl’s group chat without me in it right” replied Marinette with a sigh,

“Yeah-” Alix was cut off by Kim quickly asking “you guys made a group chat without Marinette isn’t that a bit harsh, I know she and Lila don’t get on like the rest of you guys but like that’s just harsh”.

Adrien silently nodded while looking a Marinette with guilt not realising how bad her friendship with the other girls in the class had gotten. “It was Alya’s idea, not mine, you know how stubborn that reporter can be so it’s not like any of us could say no” stated Alix typing out something on her phone while the other three sat in silence.

That was then Marinette spoke up, “hey ever notice how every time someone brings up something about what they enjoy or what they want to do after school, Lila always says that she knows someone in that industry”,

“That’s a good point actually” replied Alix with a frown,

“How about this, why don’t we see how many times she does it in a week?” stated Marinette,

“But why?” questioned Kim,

“Because you guys might actually see the reason on why I was so quick to call her a liar” replied Marinette,

“I’m in” announced Adrien, surprising both Alix and Kim but both quickly agree.

And so the game began. It didn’t take long for them to start counting because according to Alix, it happened about five times in the group chat over the weekend even sending screenshots to the four’s own group that they set up for this game. Then when Monday came, they had already one point in the first lesson due to Nino bringing up a film making competition that he wanted to partake in since the prize was working with a famous director the same on who directed the movies Adrien’s mother used to be in and of course Lila started to talk about how she knew the director and if Nino wasn’t able to win, she could try and see if she could get the director to still meet with him.

Not only did it annoy Adrien that she would lie like that about a close family of the Agrestes but also the fact that she would get his best bros hopes up like that. Adrien knew as soon as she found out that Adrien was in contact with the director, she would try to get him to set up the meeting so that she would be able to take the credit in order for her not to be found out.

Halfway through the week when the number of points went over twenty when Alix and Kim both look at each other and then Marinette and then back to each other before they pulled out their phones and started googling Lila’s lies.

Both were very unhappy when they found out the truth but before they told the other, Adrien and Marinette both sat them and told them why it was a bad idea considering the pair were either being threatened or blackmail by the Italian snake. Even then Kim and Alix were adamant on making sure the others knew so the four took another route on getting Lila exposed one that was less obvious but simple.

They decided to get the other in on their game and sure enough, one by one, the class all joined in. Sure they were confused at first but playing the game for a week each member started to fact check Lila’s lies. By the end of the month, everyone knew Lila was a liar and the threats and blackmail the girl had given Adrien and Marinette so almost everyone was wanting revenge but they knew the school wasn’t going to listen or do anything since they believe that Lila had a disease that didn’t exist so instead, they went to someone much better, someone who would be quick to punish the lying snake. Lila’s own mother, Martha Rossi.

Martha Rossi was quite different from her daughter, sure the lady was a bit dizzy but considering the amount of work she got from the embassy, it was understandable. Martha was strict though and scary when angry, which became very apparent when she stormed into the school the day that the class sent her an email which contained every lie, threat and blackmailing that the snake had done since she arrived in Paris with evidence of course.

You could hear the women yells from their classroom. Everyone just carried on with their work like it was nothing while Miss Bustier and Lila looked confused. The best part was when Martha Rossi came storming into the class, yelling angrily at her daughter in Italian, Lila got progressively paler at every word while Miss Bustier tried to calm the mother down but Martha was not having it as she just told Miss Bustier simply in a stone-cold tone, “I don’t want to hear anything from the teacher who would believe a child’s word without checking for proper evidence or even fact-checking with their parents”.

Martha then demands Lila to grab her bags because they were going home so that they could have a long chat but before she left, she thanked the class for bringing this to her attention while their school didn’t and that she was sorry for the damage that her daughter had done, promising to fix what she could to the best of her ability. Marinette was quick to thank the women on behalf of the class and made sure that Martha knew none of the class harboured any ill will against her for something that she never knew about.

From then on the class got better, fixing their friendships, apologising to Marinette for not trusting her and going so far as to bully her while they protected the actual villain, fixing the damage done to the ladyblog and them also getting a better teacher than Miss Bustier who was undergoing training courses on how to deal with bullies, liars and doing proper investigations when someone tells them that another student has done something horrible or against school policy. Their new teacher, in fact, was Mrs Mendeleiev who was quite happy with giving proper punishments to those who deserved it along with helping the actual victims.

Author's Note: Sorry that I haven't written in a while, I've had writer's block. Along with the fact that I have been getting black into anime more, meaning I haven't felt the inspiration to write more fanfiction for the miraculous fandom.  I wrote this at like midnight so if there's any mistake, I will go back and fix them at a later date.

AO3   Wattpad 

[imnotwolverine]

It’s a 50/50 thing

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: A little bit of cute fluffy fluff. I’m also slowly adding more imagery to my stories, since I realise they do get a bit lengthy every now and then. Hope you ladies and gents enjoy that. Have a nice Thursday!

Word count: 2.420

Disclaimer: fluff

---

This is part 10 of the Tea for Two story. 

Find the Masterlist here. 

---

< Go back to part 9

The end credits rolled over my dark laptop screen. It was evening and the house smelled of our activities today. Meaning: sweat, sex, pizza, in that order. We had not even bothered to put on any clothes today - Henry had simply slipped in my fluffy pink robe when Kal needed a pee break - and right now we had ended up more then satisfied and mildly sleepy, in my bed, watching a movie. Or should I say our bed? I looked over at Henry, who was scrolling through some memes on his phone, smiling occasionally. Cute dork. And as if he hadn’t completely bruised me with his love making yet, I once more felt my loins fire up. Gosh. We were like horny teenagers who’s parents weren’t home for the day. 

Thinking of…parents. Hmm. My eyebrows knitted together at the uneasy thought of meeting his parents next week. At the fucking London premier of this Witcher season. Talking of a bad moment. But I guess we might as well get it over with…

‘What are you thinking? I can almost hear the cogs and wheels turning in your pretty head dear.’ Henry hummed, finally looking away from his screen. He looked so devilishly beautiful with his dark long curls messily framing his strong features, those satisfied, loving blue eyes lingering on my face. His body was propped up against some pillows, the duvet barely covering his private parts. Henry raised an eyebrow as he saw my eyes linger down his abs. ‘Again?’ He purred, chuckling softly. ‘Oh..oh no. I was just..thinking of meeting your parents.’ I said, sucking in my lips - something I did whenever I felt a bit uncomfortable. ‘Hmmm.’ Henry rolled on his side, pulling my face closer so he could place a kiss on my forehead. ‘Are you nervous?’ He asked honestly, looking down into my eyes. GODS why did this man smell so good. Okey brain. Not now. ‘I ..eh..think so. A bit. That’s normal right?’ I rolled onto my back, looking at the ceiling. ‘Especially since it’s going to be at the ..premier.’ I added, sighing softly.

Henry let a hand travel over the soft skin of my arm before finally resting it on my hand, which I had folded over my belly. He hesitated a moment, putting away his phone on the night stand, then propping up his head on one arm. ‘I eh…maybe we can…’ He halted his words, studying my face as I kept looking at the ceiling. ‘Are you upset?’ He said softly. I looked back at him, a reassuring smile playing softly at my lips. ‘No…I know you can’t help it. It just happens to be the way it is.’ I shrugged, staring back at the ceiling before closing my eyes, breathing out softly. ‘Sweetheart..’ His hand cupped my face, turning it towards his in a gentle manner before placing his hand back on my belly. I kept my eyes closed. ‘Hmm?’ I hummed. ‘Look at me.’ He begged softly. I instantly opened my eyes, seeing a flash of insecurity and hurt in his eyes. ‘Bearr…’ I whispered, also cupping his cheek. ‘Oh!…You do know I really want to meet your parents? And that other then a slight inconvenience, it really isn’t the end of the world that I’ll be meeting them there?’ I searched his eyes, but saw he had closed off his emotions again, trying to be strong. Why did he keep doing that? What happened that he got so insecure about this?

I sighed as he remained quiet, then continued; ’You know. I’ve had some rather..interesting meet-the-parents moments with my exes. The best one yet is probably when I met the parents of a german ex boyfriend. He was a musician and I had, on a whim, decided to join him to one of his shows in Germany. He had said his parents weren’t home that night, so we’d be staying at his parents place. It saved us a whole night of driving, so that seemed like a solid plan. Little did we know that his parents were to be having a family brunch the next day, and they’d be bringing grandma and some aunts and uncles..you guessed it; at his parents house. We had been sleeping in since we’d gotten home around 4-ish..and just while I wanted to go pee - wearing only his shirt - I was welcomed by his grandmother who also wanted to go to the toilet. MAN. That was…embarrassing. Yes. Embarrassing.’ I smiled, remembering the look on that grandma’s face all too well. Henry chuckled, nodding. ‘I’ve once introduced a girlfriend to my parents, just hours after finding out she was leaking pictures of us to the press, spreading lies about us being betrothed. I don’t know if that was wise..but..I didn’t want to ruin the night. She didn’t even know that I knew. Gosh…’ He sighed, looking down at his hand down on my belly. ‘That sounds pretty fucking awful.’ I sighed in turn, looking at his face as the heavy furrow in his eyebrows slowly released, his face relaxing. He looked back at me. ‘You sure have had some..interesting girlfriends huh?’ I said.

‘Interesting..yes.’ He sighed again, before wrapping his hand around my waist to pull me closer. ‘Oh sweet Lisa. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.’ He hummed in my hair, placing a few kisses on my temple. I chuckled, wrapping my arm in turn around his large body, our other arms now trapped between our bodies. ‘Dinosaur arms.’ I laughed, wriggling the fingers of my trapped hand. He laughed in turn, wrapping his fingers around mine before his other arm pulled me even closer, almost crushing me against his chest. I continued, the sound slightly muffled by his chest: ’And you deserve every bit of happiness and love, dear bear. You are a kind and gentle man. You are patient, smart, funny. You show you care about the people around you. And you always give more then you take. Sometimes too much maybe. Sometimes you don’t even allow yourself to have needs.’ I spoke. I felt his breath choke up a bit, but I couldn’t move away to see his face, his arm keeping me flush against his chest. ‘You okay?’ I asked softly. He nodded, hiding his face in my hair. ‘Thank you.’ He said, before finally easing his arm into a loose embrace, his lips brushing against mine. ‘Thank you for being here with me. And thank you for being yourself. I guess I can get a little insecure and try to push these memories away by keeping myself busy.’ ‘Well..you sure are a BUSY man, mr. Cavill.’ I smiled, before laying another kiss on his lips. Our eyes met for a quiet moment, just looking at each other, our arms entangled. ‘Thank you for telling me.’ I whispered, keeping my gaze on his eyes. He nodded before rolling on his back again, looking over his right shoulder to find a softly snoring Kal.

‘Let’s go to sleep.’  

‘Yea..let’s.’

——

It was Friday. Henry had barely been at home. And if he was, he was constantly calling or reading and writing emails. I on the other hand had little to no work. The Witcher project was wrapped up for this year and my next job wouldn’t start ‘till the beginning of the new year - a whole month from now.

Instead I had busied myself with meeting up with friends here in LA. It felt like ages since I last spoke to them. One of them had gotten a girlfriend..which in the nerd community is HUGE, and another had just started a new job. I had paid them a visit last night, soon finding the whole friendgroup cramped up in a small dungey apartment. It had felt so good to be around them again. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have no cameras constantly pointing at me. Just drinking wine, playing boardgames and chatting. Life with Henry sure was weird, when I came to think of it.

I heard the front door click open and looked away from my laptop. It was about 4 pm and I hadn’t thought I’d see Henry again until we were actually at the premier here in LA. Kal sprinted off to greet the friendly intruder. ‘Honey, I’m home.’ Henry chanted from the small hallway, before appearing in the doorway of the living room. He was smiling from ear to ear. ‘Hey you.’ I said, moving my laptop to a spot next to me on the fluffy couch. I sat up to get a better look at Henry. ‘What are you doing here?’ I said, raising a surprised eyebrow. ‘We wrapped up a little earlier then expected and I just wanted to see you two…’ He gave Kal another ruffle through his fur before he stepped into the small living room, leaning over the couch to kiss me. His eyes were dragged to my laptop screen. ‘Shopping huh?’ He chuckled, picking up the laptop and taking the seat there, before placing the laptop on his lap. ‘Yea..I had thought that that one fancy dress I own would be more then sufficient for this whole Witcher premier thing. But alas..I suddenly got myself into attending TWO Witcher premiers. Surely the fashion police will have my head if I appear in the same dress twice..in less then a week’s time.’ I chuckled. Henry smiled.

‘Found anything you like?’ He said, mindlessly scrolling through the page - had I ever seen a man shop for women’s dresses? - I chuckled. ‘A few, you can go to the checkout. I’ve added some dresses there so I can make up my mind later.’ I moved in closer, hooking an arm around his and laying my head on his shoulder. I could feel the gentle flexing of his arm as he moved his fingers over the small trackpad of the laptop. ‘Why don’t you just get all of them?’ He asked genuinely. ‘Oh, Mr. Cavill, I don’t feel like dragging around 10 dresses in my tiny suitcase, thank you very much.’ I laughed, before moving up a bit and kissing his cheek. ‘Well, in that case I’d say the black and white one.’ He nodded, as if that was his final decision. ‘Yennefer would approve.’ I smiled, moving my hand to close the laptop and get his attention.

Henry sighed in mock annoyance, then put the laptop on the coffee table before patting his lap. ‘Come sit.’ ‘Me?’ I asked, a bit confused. Had I been naughty? ‘Yes you.’ He said, finally glancing over at me, a playful grin on his lips. I obediently climbed on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to steady myself. ‘Well daddy..what is it?’ I quipped playfully. His grin grew wider. ‘I have…’ He looked me in the eye. ‘..A proposition.’ I felt his hand snake around my waist. ‘I have been discussing a lot with my management team. Discussing about ..the future.’ I felt my stomach do a summersault as he spoke. Future? I remained quiet, looking expectantly at him. He however didn’t seem phased by my silence, as he continued: ‘I wish to make a bit more room in my schedule, so we at least have a good chance of ..making this, us, work.’ His eyes searched mine. I felt my cheeks flush. ‘What are you trying to say Hen?’ I asked feebly. ‘I’d like to say that I want to split our schedules. We both have jobs we love. Both have time consuming, very demanding jobs. So how would you feel about going 50/50? Half of the year you’d follow my footsteps. The other half of the year I follow you.’  

It took a good few seconds before it sank in what he was saying. What this would mean. What he was sacrificing. ‘Oh my.’ I finally stammered, the surprise in my face more than evident. He smiled, one of his hands languidly caressing my back, giving me the time to mull it over. ‘…Really?’ I asked, still not completely believing what he just said. ‘Really really.’ He laughed happily. ‘Will you agree to that?’ He asked, his eyes searching for an answer in mine. ‘Heck yes! Uh..well… at least…only if your managing team has not set out a murder for hire contract to get rid of me.’ I smiled, wriggling in excitement on his lap. He laughed out loud. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll have to get past me first.’

—

I remember when I first met Henry. I had caught Kal somewhere in the Hollywood hills, his leash dragging behind him through the rough bushes. I had called the number on his tag and not long after Henry had shown his face. I swear, within those first 20 minutes of knowing Henry he had shown me more than a hundred facial expressions. So cute. But my favourite facial expression of his was still the dorkily staring one. The one I had first seen when I had looked around one last time before disappearing behind the steep curb of his house, that first day we met.

It was tonight that I was once more graced with the presence of THAT face. The exact moment being when he finally found me standing far away in the crowd of the premier’s reception. He was mid-conversation with one of the scenario writers when his eyes caught a hold of mine. The way his breath kind of halted, his mouth slightly drooping and his eyes glazing over with admiration.

I waved.

Gosh. What is wrong with me. I don’t know why I waved, but I guess I waved. You know, the type of silly, excited waving that is totally not appropriate for the situation. And just like that he awoke from his silent stare, only to break out in such loud laughter, I think half the room looked up to know what was so funny.

It was then I realised we were both just silly dorks. Like two peas in a pod. And I was more then a little glad that he was willing to be my other half. The 50% to my 50%.

Henry had made his way over to me. ‘Hi.’ He smiled. ‘Hi.’ I smiled in turn, still feeling a blush on my cheeks, before feeling his fingers gently tug up my chin, his body pushing closer to mine.

It was the first time he kissed me at a public event.

--

Part 11 > 

[olicitysecretsanta]

Convergence

For @swiftletinthecloud 

Hello! We have never met or spoken before, but I am so happy to have you as my giftee because now we have! I was so happy about your response to my anon ask about what kinds of fic you like, because so many of your interests are also mine. It was actually a problem because I had too many interesting ideas for fic that were inspired by your suggestions. Now I just have more fic to write, I guess. 

Anyway, I decided to write this idea for you because it was the SHORTEST of all the ideas I had. You can see how well that turned out. What is below is 2 out of 3 total chapters. The last chapter still needs editing, so your gift will be fully complete when I post this to AO3. Until then, please enjoy these first two chapters of season 1 alternate canon!

Much love, @allimariexf

Title: Convergence

Warnings: No warnings apply

Relationship: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak

Tags: Arrow season 1, alternate canon AU, episode tag 1x21 (The Undertaking)

Chapter 1

Oliver Queen moved like a panther through the underground casino, a sleek and beautiful predator at home among the understated opulence. His eyes strayed around the room, a careless smirk masking his close assessment of the security.

Two pit bosses, a floorman, and six armed guards, two of which flanked a hallway that must lead to Dominic Alonzo’s office. If he was going to get in there, he needed to come up with a distraction.

His mind went back to the document he’d found saved on his computer. Like all the previous messages he’d gotten over the past seven months, it took the form of a simple text file, saved prominently on the desktop of his computer in the foundry.

December 12, 2012: Harold Backman deposits $2 million to Cayman Fidelity on behalf of Dominic Alonzo, known kidnapper.

Also December 12: Walter Steele goes missing.

Coincidence? I don’t think so. 

I know I normally don’t agree with your “shoot first, ask questions later” policy, but I’m willing to give you a pass on Alonzo. He seems like just the kind of low-life someone would pay to kidnap Mr. Steele. How many arrows do you think you’d need to put in Alonzo before he gave up Mr. Steele’s location - probably a lot, right?

Never mind, forget I said that. Alonzo’s private records are offline - likely stored in his office in his base of operations, an underground casino with basically its own private army. Not the best odds, even for you. But I have a plan that doesn’t involve arrows or any other pointy objects, so sit tight and I’ll contact you tomorrow. 

The corners of his lips lifted at the memory. The anonymous hacker who’d been helping him certainly had a way with words, and in their months together she’d often surprised him with her uncannily insightful observations. But if she honestly thought he’d sit back and wait when they finally had a solid lead on finding Walter, maybe she didn’t know him as well as he sometimes suspected. Not when Walter had been missing for almost five months and the likelihood of him being found alive decreased every day. Not with the recorded evidence John Diggle had collected that seemed to confirm his mother had something to do with Walter’s disappearance - and that it was all connected to the List. 

Oliver was tired of waiting for answers. This was something he could do. It just so happened that this time, he needed a bespoke suit of Italian wool, rather than green leather in order to do it.

Eyes tracking the movement of the guards, Oliver positioned himself at a well-situated roulette table. Several wealthy patrons crowded around the dealer, including an elegant brunette who instantly met his gaze. 

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she purred, reaching out with graceful fingers to draw him toward her. Slipping easily into the role, he let his eyes travel down her body as she trailed her hand down his arm. 

Choosing not to answer with words, he winked and held out his dice for her to blow on. It was enough to maintain the part he was playing, and in another life he would have taken her up on the unspoken invitation written in every line of her body. But as his eyes slid down her lithe frame, he barely saw her. Instead, he was seeking something else, some spark of her. 

Huli jing. 

His anonymous hacker ally. 

His thoughts turned to her, as they had increasingly done over the past several months. Who was she, in her normal life? Where was she, what was she doing? When he mingled among the residents of Starling City by day, could she be right next to him, without either of them realizing it? Like always, the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him.

Part of him was acutely aware that it was futile, even ridiculous, to entertain those thoughts, but as long as they only existed on the fringes of his mind, he indulged them. His life was his mission, and there was no room for anything else, but there was no harm in letting his mind play with the idea of her in his downtime. Not when there was no chance they could ever meet. So when he put in his appearances at Verdant, when he met up with Thea at her favorite cafe, when he picked up his mom from Queen consolidated, he allowed himself to wonder. And if his eyes caught on long red hair, a charming smile, or a long length of exposed thigh, he’d mentally compare the woman in front of him with his mental picture of her. But none of them ever had her unique, undefinable spark. And somehow, by comparison, every woman he saw seemed somehow less because they were not her.

She had contacted him for the first time seven months ago, though “contacted” hardly felt like the right term. He’d arrived at the foundry and booted up his computer one night only to find the entire system had been upgraded, and simple text document saved to the desktop:

I’m truly stunned that no one managed to trace the redistribution of Adam Hunt’s funds back to you. No one else, I mean. 

Now that I mention it, I’m even more surprised you managed to steal that $40 million in the first place. Your system looks like it’s from the 80s.

(And not the good part of the 80s, like Madonna and legwarmers, to be clear.) I maybe spruced things up a little bit while I was in there. Seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me in my soul. Seriously it was like you left a crying infant on my doorstep, except it was like a 30 year old baby and it wasn’t my doorstep, because I was the one who kind of broke into your house. But my point is, you have a severely neglected computer setup, and I guess my maternal instinct kicked in. So to speak.

Oliver had barely finished reading the note before he’d ransacked the bunker, searching for evidence of a breach. When he found none, he read the note several more times, seeking hidden clues as to what the infiltrator knew, what they wanted. The program he used to take Adam Hunt’s money was something he’d taken from ARGUS, and no one should have been able to track it. Deeply alarmed, he read the note again and again. Not until the sixth time did he finally consider the playful tone of the note might be sincere, and only then did it occur to him that there might not be a threat buried in the message at all.  

He remained on heightened alert for several days after that, but only on principle. The improvements she’d made (and she was a she, he was sure) to his system made his ARGUS programs run faster, and while using compromised equipment was normally a risk he would never take, his gut told him there was no danger. For reasons he didn’t examine, he found himself rereading the note, until he had it memorized word for word. 

When he didn’t hear from her for three weeks, he told himself the sense of disappointment he felt was only because lingering questions felt too much like unfinished business. Not because he was intrigued by the hacker. Not because her note had made him smile the way no one had since he’d returned from the island. 

He was starting to think of the incident as an amusing, but ultimately harmless one-time stunt when one night, after an afternoon of failing to get data off of Floyd Lawton’s computer and an evening taking his frustration out on a slum lord, he returned to the foundry and discovered a large data dump open on his computer - along with another note. 

Blueprints to the Exchange Building, where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place. Gonna be a pretty target-rich environment. For the person who is trying to eliminate bidders in the auction via assassination, I mean. Which, to be clear, someone IS trying to do, according to the SCPD’s unreleased records. Anyway, do with this information as you wish. (Not “as you wish,” as in code for “I love you.” Obviously, I don’t even know you. Though from the captured video footage of you, I can say with confidence that you can really wear a pair of leather pants. Anyway, speaking of Westley, the papers are calling you “the vigilante” or “the hood,” but maybe you should consider adopting Dread Pirate Roberts. A name that inspires fear, so that you don’t have to do so much arrowing in order to get your point across. You should consider it. Good luck with the auction.

Oliver huffed out his nose, struck by her abrupt topic changes and her particular, rambly way of putting things before it even occurred to him to wonder how she’d managed to pull any information off Lawton’s damaged laptop. Or question whether she had any ulterior motive in doing so.

It was unusual for him to trust anyone so quickly, especially someone he knew virtually nothing about. But somehow, he did, and when her tip about Lawton proved sound, he found he wasn’t surprised at all. 

After that he began to seek out her help, adopting her habit of communicating via text document saved to his computer. With each tip she left him, she proved herself invaluable to bringing down another of the city’s worst offenders. He could tell that she was brave, fearless even, and before he knew it, they had developed a rapport. And while it wasn’t exactly a partnership, it worked. 

If I’m the the Dread Pirate Roberts, who are you? He asked finally, against the advice of the inner voice that cautioned him that the more he knew about her, the harder it would be to one day give her up.

But in answer, all she said was, You can call me Huli jing.

The Dark Archer, Ted Gaynor, Count Vertigo, Ken Williams, and the list went on. The notes came more frequently, and Oliver found himself looking forward to them, the first thing he’d check for every night. Even having never been there, she filled the dark, dank foundry basement with a bright presence that was just as tangible as John Diggle’s reliable support. 

What do you think keeps these bad guys up at night? Probably not worrying about that one time they accidentally stared at a man for two full minutes while they were busy trying to figure out what the Cylons’ plan really was. They said they had “a Plan,” like capital P PLAN, you know? Anyway, despite what that guy probably thought, I was NOT creeping on him. But to my point, now that I think of it these criminals probably just close their eyes and get a full 8 hours every night. Sometimes it really sucks to have a conscience.

As the months wore on, he learned that she wielded a formidable intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, an unerring sense of justice, and, somehow, an unshakeable confidence in his mission. In him. She became a voice in his head that he couldn’t tune out. And he found, more and more, that he didn’t want to.

Anyway, while I’m at it, did you ever think about not killing some of these thugs? Look, I get it - they’re taking shots at you and you’re just trying to stay alive, but on the other hand, they’re just hired guns and you’re…you know. You. All I’m saying is, with your aim - which I have seen evidence of, so please don’t start with the false modesty - you could just as easily be shooting these guys in the hand or leg or something, you know? Anyway. Just a thought.

Before he realized it, she had come to haunt his thoughts. When he was wrestling with a problem, he found himself playing out imaginary conversations with her, unerringly channeling her firm conviction and steady support. 

He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Sometimes he thought he was half in love with her. No; that was ridiculous. It was the fantasy, the not knowing, that fascinated him. The idea that she could be anyone. He told himself didn’t want to know who she really was, because there was no way the reality could live up to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind.

A rough voice, intentionally pitched to grab his attention, cut into his reverie. “Is that Oliver Queen?” 

“No, couldn’t be,” came a loud, theatrical reply, drawing closer toward him. 

“Why not?” the first voice asked from somewhere right behind him. Oliver turned his head to present the speakers with a careless smirk.

“Because Oliver Queen wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” the second man sneered, pressing a gun against his back.

The gun cocked. “Well then I guess he has a death wish.”

So much for blending in, he thought as they dragged him toward the back hallway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Felicity stilled her frantic movements to free herself from the ties that were cutting into her wrists as the door abruptly opened and a man was pushed inside. She tried not to gape as her captor stepped in behind him and roughly zip-tied his hands behind his back, exactly as he had done to Felicity not ten minutes before. 

Despite her situation, she couldn’t stop the flow of words that spilled out of her mouth when she saw who had joined her. “Oh, great. It’s you.” The newcomer whipped his head up and she locked gazes with a pair of striking blue eyes. 

Strangely, the first thought that crossed her mind was that if she had known her curiosity about the hood was going to lead to crossing paths with Oliver Queen, she would never have tried to solve the mystery of Adam Hunt’s $40 million in the first place.

Though to be fair, her interest in the Hood pre-dated the article that mentioned Hunt’s missing money, so she couldn’t entirely blame her entanglement with the vigilante on her compulsive need to unravel knotty mysteries. And it wasn’t just the allure of a dark and brooding man who could pull off leather, either. Something about his single-minded dedication and passion, at the risk to his own freedom and safety, was simply irresistible. 

It was curiosity that first led her to him. Maybe boredom. Her job was monotonous and unchallenging, something she’d sought out after her brief brush with hacktivism had backfired so spectacularly. When she first read about the Hood, she dismissed him as some whacko loose canon. But she followed the story - and the police reports - for lack of anything better to do. But when she read that Adam Hunt claimed the Hood had stolen $40 million, Felicity was intrigued. A crazy person couldn’t - wouldn’t - pull something like that off. So she hacked into Hunt’s accounts, following the trail back to a program that emptied the money and redistributed it to Hunt’s victims. It was shockingly easy, like following a flashing neon sign, and she was legitimately stunned that the police hadn’t managed to do the same. They also had no idea that the missing money had been returned to its rightful owners. On impulse, she erased the digital evidence. 

She could have left it at that, but the mystery was too compelling. She told herself she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t just enabled a psycho or terrorist to do even more psychotic and terrifying things, but the truth was, the fact that he’d quietly returned Hunt’s victims’ money to them cast him in an entirely unexpected light. She needed to know more.

She found that his system was alarmingly, disturbingly unprotected. And primitive. Really, it wasn’t even tolerable for the tiny amount of poking around and passive monitoring that she planned to do. Which is why she discreetly updated speed and capacity as much as she could without added hardware, then added a few dozen security protocols, because anything less was begging the police to come find him. 

Then she established several monitoring programs and alerts, and waited. Just a few weeks later, she got an alert that an unprotected device had been plugged in - a quick remote in revealed that it was one of those Tuff laptops, with a damaged system. It was clear that the Hood hadn’t been able to access the drive, but Felicity was curious, so she remotely cloned the data and opened it on her own system. When she discovered the blueprints of the Exchange Building on the drive, she remembered that the Unidac auction was shortly going to be held there, which naturally reminded her of recent news that one of bidders, James Holder of Holder Group, had recently been murdered. Which naturally then led to a little bit of unsanctioned poking around the SCPD’s internal files, and before she knew it the she found herself composing a message to the Hood before she’d even consciously decided to get involved.

After all, she didn’t actually want to be involved. She was just an IT girl, and she intended to keep a low profile. But the possibility that she could help prevent another murder weighed on her conscience, so she left a message pointing him in the right direction, hoping her suspicions were false. 

When she heard about the shooting at the auction, she poured herself a glass of wine - well, a bottle, really - and gave herself a talk. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad she’d helped prevent an even greater catastrophe, because she was. It was just that the reality of the situation finally hit her, and she was faced with a choice.

Get involved, take a stance, use her powers in the real world again? She’d been down this road, she’d seen what her interference was capable of. She’d played with fire and hadn’t just gotten burned; she’d burned down her entire world - and Cooper’s. 

But the Hood wasn’t Cooper. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t naive to the forces he was playing with. She wasn’t sure what he was. He’d killed, and he would kill again, she was sure. 

But as much as she couldn’t condone the killing, she also couldn’t ignore the good that he’d done, and she realized she already didn’t have a choice. Something was happening in her city, the signs were all around her, and choosing to do nothing would only make her complicit. 

From then on, she kept tabs on the Hood’s activities, always leaving documents on his desktop explaining, briefly, what he needed to know. It wasn’t long until he began leaving notes of his own.

Through unspoken agreement, they never asked each other personal questions, but between the lines, she gained a sense of the man he was. Compassionate. Loyal. Selfless.  

When Oliver Queen was arrested as the suspected Hood, Felicity instantly dismissed the idea. She knew about the arresting officer’s personal grudge against Oliver Queen, which explained why he pursued him like a dog with a bone. But Felicity knew it was impossible; she knew what kind of person Oliver Queen was, and there was no overlap with the kind of person the vigilante was.

Aside from that, she purposely avoided speculating about who the Hood could be. If she had wanted to know, she could have found out easily enough, but she didn’t want to know. She told herself it didn’t matter; that the work he was doing was what was important. She didn’t want to put a face to the hood, because then she would begin to worry about him.

More than she already did, that is. Despite not knowing his name, she felt a connection with him that sometimes felt stronger for their mutual anonymity. His notes were always brief, especially compared to hers, but she learned to read what he didn’t say. And when he was repeatedly crucified in the media while his quietly heroic actions went unnoticed, he never complained, never faltered in his mission. He never even acknowledged the subtle tones of praise layered into her notes. She would almost suspect him of being a robot if it weren’t for the clear passion that underscored every action.

So when Walter Steele gave her the notebook that turned out to be filled with names that correlated with the criminals the vigilante was confronting, she didn’t say anything. There was too much she still didn’t know about the notebook to risk jeopardizing their relationship over it. Because if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him. 

When Mr. Steele went missing, however, she had to break her silence. Without giving away details that could expose her own identity, she presented him with digital evidence of Moira Queen’s involvement of the events that likely got her husband kidnapped, and asked him for help. 

Which was how she now found herself in this hideously decorated criminal lair staring into the supremely beautiful face of Oliver Queen.

Chapter 2

“Oh great. It’s you.”

Oliver looked up at the sarcastic words being spoken by a stunning blonde. Even as he was roughly manhandled, his hands being zip-tied behind his back, he couldn’t help but be a little offended at her tone. “Excuse me?” Beautiful women treating him like some kind of disease was something he’d never experienced before, and while he wasn’t the same person he used to be, he had to admit his ego took a hit.

She stared at him silently, eyes flashing with undisguised contempt, until after Dominic Alonzo’s minion had left the room.

“Oliver Queen?” she finally answered distastefully, tilting her head at him in an exaggerated motion, as if his name was explanation enough. “Entitled billionaire and general asshole?” 

Her stomach swooped as his eyes searched her face. Disturbingly, and contrary to the cool attitude she was projecting, Felicity found his presence a little overwhelming, not quite matching the plastic and glossy picture presented by the tabloids. Rather than being some kind of smarmy Trust Fund Ken, in person he was exquisitely human. Felicity had always suspected she was immune to the appeal of a man in a suit, but on him, the tapered line from broad shoulder to narrow waist suggested an essential masculinity that awoke a deeply primal response she’d never experienced before. In contrast to the brutal strength of his body, his eyes were startlingly expressive; his chiseled jaw was complemented by soft, sensual lips. In short, he was utterly, unfairly beautiful in a way that affected her immediately, physically, and urgently. 

“Wow, okay,” Oliver scoffed, unaware of her internal struggle. “Most people lead with ‘Are you okay, Mr. Queen?’ ‘How did you survive all those years alone, Mr. Queen?’ ‘What does it feel like to be the only survivor in an accident that killed your father, Mr. Queen?’” He spoke harshly, wielding the crude words like a club. While he usually found the subject too intrusive to mention to anyone, let alone complete strangers, something about this woman’s fiery disdain was really getting under his skin, and extreme measures were called for.

Felicity smiled insincerely, holding on to her irritation like a shield from the confusing wave of sympathy that, along with his sheer attractiveness, threatened to undo her. This man slept with his girlfriend’s sister, she firmly reminded herself. “Well, I’m sorry, but my concern didn’t really seem necessary, given the fact that you seem utterly unaffected by what you went through. I caught your appearance at the opening of Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences building,” she added witheringly. “You seemed perfectly okay. Or at least as okay as you ever were.” 

Oliver crossed his arms, bothered by her words even though the image she described was the exact public persona he’d been purposefully crafting. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t stand the idea that this woman found him so completely and vehemently offensive. Shaking his head, he tried a different tack. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?” There was something compelling and almost familiar about her, but he was pretty sure he would remember if they’d met.

She scoffed dismissively. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes ran over her again, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features animated by a streak of passion that was not characteristic of the type of woman he’d have gone for before the island.

“Oh, I know all about you, Oliver Queen. If it’s on the internet, I can find it. Not -” her eyes flew to the ceiling as she turned pink, “not that I’ve looked into you!” Her sudden lack of composure was completely unexpected and disarming, and Oliver was intrigued and charmed by the new side of Felicity it revealed. And, if he was being honest, gratified by the suggestion that maybe she was not as immune to him as he originally thought. “It’s just that I work for your company,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes again as sarcasm crept back into her tone, “and it’s a little hard to avoid hearing about all your little…adventures and mishaps.” 

“Hmm,” he answered, covering the dismay he felt at hearing her refer to his past actions when he suddenly, illogically, wanted her to know that he wasn’t that person anymore. “You work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, I do.” She pinned him with a fierce look. “But don’t go getting any weird ideas. I don’t work for you.” 

Felicity rolled her eyes to illustrate how distasteful she found that idea, and to cover up the effect his nearness was having on her. This was Oliver Queen, Frat Boy Extraordinaire, Professional Heartbreaker. She should not be flattered by any interest he showed to her. Anyway, he was probably just talking to her because there was no one else to talk to, as they were both literally imprisoned together. Speaking of, she needed to stop being distracted by Oliver Queen’s whole overwhelmingness, and start figuring out a way out of her handcuffs so she could carry out her plan to infiltrate Dominic Alonzo’s computer. She was lucky that when they caught her counting cards they brought her here, at least. Though she would have preferred that she hadn’t gotten caught at all, so she could have found her way here without the zip-tie cuffs, as she had planned. But dammit, she was new to this. She didn’t know anything about going undercover in an underground casino. As evidenced by the very great misfortune of finding herself trapped with Oliver Queen, of all people. Well, at least his presence solved one problem. “So anyway, how is it that Oliver Queen ends up handcuffed in the back of an underground casino?” she asked, deliberately toning down her attitude in the hopes that he’d prove cooperative.

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss…” he trailed off in question, a clear indication that she should fill in her name, as he tried to figure out how to respond. 

The truth was certainly not an option. Even if he could trust her with his secret - and for some inexplicable reason, he did feel generally inclined to trust her - doing so would put her at risk. He couldn’t even tell her a half-truth. Sure, the whole city at this point knew that his step-father was missing, possibly kidnapped, probably dead, but there was no good reason why Oliver Queen would be investigating that. Or that he should have figured out that Alonzo was the person who had him kidnapped. 

Felicity met his eyes warily, aware that she didn’t have an acceptable explanation for being there either, and they came to a silent agreement not to press each other for information. For now. “Felicity Smoak,” she supplied.

He smiled. She stared back, refusing to be charmed, even though she detected a hint of dimple.

Needing to get him to stop smiling at her, because she was much more susceptible than she wanted him to know, she hastened on, “It’s good that you’re here, actually, because you can help me.” 

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Help you?” Help her do what? He didn’t expect his co-hostage to have any sort of plan; rather, he was busy trying to figure out how he could convince her to stay calm, and possibly hide in a closet, while he dislocated his thumb, got out of the zip-ties, searched through the office, and then called the police to come rescue them. 

It wasn’t an ideal plan; he considered all the variables, all the things that could go wrong. Getting made definitely hadn’t been part of his plan. He’d hoped to sneak in the back without being noticed, not get thrown there with the attention of Alonzo and his thugs. And Felicity proved an even bigger problem. While he could easily hold himself back and take a beating if necessary, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same if they threatened her; and if it came to a fight, he wasn’t sure how he was going to preserve his secret. 

“Help me get out of these zip-ties,” Felicity answered, taking a deliberate step toward Oliver. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to suggest, but she schooled her expression to appear nonchalant, annoyed by the necessity, even. Not flustered. And definitely, definitely not turned on by the prospect. She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the knife out of my bra.” 

Oliver blinked. No words could have been more unexpected coming from her mouth. “What?” 

She rolled her eyes to distract from the fact that she was blushing. Eyes firmly locked on the ceiling, she elaborated, “There is a pocketknife in my bra and we can use it to cut our binds.”

Oliver stared at her in wonder, steadfastly ignoring the primal thrill that ran through him at her suggestion. It seemed he had severely underestimated Felicity Smoak. His mind was racing with questions, but the one that he blurted out was “Why do you have a pocketknife in your bra?”

“Mr. Queen!” she flared, exasperated nerves causing her to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Oliver’s mind was suddenly reeling with images of what she was proposing. In an instinctual stalling tactic, he said the first words that came to him. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

Felicity gaped at him.

Oliver shook his head at himself, saying nothing as he attempted to get his head on straight. He considered her plan rationally. Aside from the question of why it was so important to Felicity that she get out of her cuffs, and the mystery of what she planned to do once she was free of them, the fact of the matter was that going along with her plan would free him to search the office without having to dislocate his thumb. Deciding to continue their no-questions truce, he nodded. “Okay. But…,” he trailed off, throat dry as he looked looking down into unexpectedly near wide blue eyes.

Felicity was pretty sure they were both imagining what he was about to do. “Yeah,” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the cadence of his breaths, his intoxicatingly masculine scent. Throughout the course of their discussion, he had moved closer to her, and now his expressive eyes fixed on her, waiting. “You won’t be able to see what you’re doing, but if you’re standing, I can kneel behind you and you can kind of…feel around.” 

Oliver’s eyes widened as she spoke, her matter-of-fact words making the situation more real. More shocking. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done more with women he’d known for less time in much less dire circumstances, but something about touching Felicity in these circumstances felt wrong, like a violation, and he suddenly, irrationally found himself wanting to get to know her first, and to tell her about himself, about the real him.  He briefly reconsidered his original plan of dislocating his thumb. 

Mortified by Oliver’s reaction to her words, Felicity tried to cut the tension. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I figure it’s gotta be better than the alternative.”

Caught up, Oliver automatically asked, “What’s the alternative?”

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips and she swayed a little toward him as she whispered, “Using your mouth.” But when her eyes flicked up to meet his, neither of them were laughing. 

Oliver’s mouth fell open in surprise, his gaze dropping to the deep vee of her bodice, before dragging back up to her face. The action pulled him even closer toward her, and a rush of heat washed over him as he fully took her in for the first time. The red chiffon dress clung to her curves, outlining a deeply feminine, lush  body. She was a study in contradictions, watching him through darkly-lashed eyes that were somehow both innocent and knowing; her face lightly dusted with freckles that contrasted alluringly with a sinfully soft mouth. She watched him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and his cock twitched in response. 

But then reality crashed back in on him as she interrupted, “Not that I’m suggesting anything! I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

Oliver blinked, trying to regain control by reminding himself where they were and why. Catching her gaze, he nodded in an attempt to reassure her. Hoping that she didn’t pick up on just how affected he himself was. 

Felicity took a deep, centering breath. It didn’t make any sense that Oliver Queen was having this effect on her. He was just some shallow billionaire, a douchebag womanizer. None of it made any sense. When he looked at her, it was like he saw her. And as much as she told herself it was impossible, it looked as if he wanted her. No. She had to be projecting. And she didn’t want him to want her, anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous. So, so masculine and touchable he smelled so good, with an essential manliness that was softened by those eyes…but no. He was still Oliver Queen, and the fact that she was so attracted to him only explained why so many women had given in to his appeal, despite the long list of reasons to avoid him. She might have judged those women in the past, but now she could not. 

She squared her shoulders, trying to clear the attraction from her mind and prepare for what had to happen next. “So, okay?” She chanced a look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes. 

Oliver nodded, and Felicity took refuge in remembering her mission. After all, she was here to help the Hood, and she could not have her sudden weakness to very handsome men - or rather, one specific very handsome man - getting in the way of that. 

“All right, just turn a little to your right,” she directed hoarsely, nodding encouragingly as he complied. “Okay, stop there. I’ll position myself so you should be able to locate the knife relatively easily.” She lowered herself to the ground behind him as she was speaking, her voice only slightly wavering with the awareness that Oliver Queen was about to feel her up. “It’s on the left side,” she rambled, masking her response to the feeling of his surprisingly rough fingers dipping below her bodice, carrying on as if this were normal, as if she were directing someone to the library, as if Oliver Queen’s very large hands weren’t currently sliding along the sides of her breasts…her words tapered off and she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on not moaning out loud because oh god, his fingers brushed against her nipple and her body responded as if he was tugging on a string tied directly to her thrumming core. 

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be quick, methodical, and clinical, but he had felt enough breasts in his life to know that Felicity Smoak’s were a rarity. As much as he tried to stay on task,he found himself getting distracted, unable to stop the picture that drifted through his mind. Perfect breasts, not large, but extremely full; firm but very soft, with tight nipples that his fingertips couldn’t help brushing over repeatedly as he wedged his large hand into the tight space of her bodice. Tight, very sensitive nipples, he corrected unhelpfully, judging by the way she gasped softly in response to his inadvertent touches. As her voice trailed off, he remained aware of the soft catching of her breath, and even with his back to her, he he felt completely in tune with her, much more intimately than if they had only been having sex. Finally, his fingers touched upon warm metal, and even though the entire encounter lasted less than fifteen seconds, he was out of breath as he withdrew the pocketknife and turned to meet her eyes. His dick was rock hard, and the look she returned him said she was equally affected. 

She was staring up at him, speechless, so he took the lead, flipping open the knife and directing her in a soft voice, “Turn around. I’ll cut your ties.”

Felicity nodded silently, turning so that they were back to back and trusting that he wouldn’t cut her as he twisted around to line her zip-ties up with the blade. “Okay,” he told her when the knife was in position, “try an up and down sawing motion,” and they easily and wordlessly fell into a rhythm that quickly parted the plastic around her wrists. 

“Oh thank god,” she exhaled as her hands came free. She instantly started rubbing her wrists, then silently turned to take the knife. 

Oliver felt her warm hand close around his wrists, steadying him as she positioned the blade against his ties. He took a steadying breath as she freed him. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” she commented, “since my plan is to maintain the illusion that we’re still tied up and that would be easier to do if you actually were still tied up, but I have to admit that I’ll feel safer if your hands are free.” With a final tug, the plastic came apart, but she didn’t release his hands immediately. Inexplicably, her words inflated him with a disproportionate sense of pride and purpose. He liked that she felt safe with him, that even without knowing his alternate identity, and despite her pre-existing opinion of Oliver Queen, she somehow trusted him. He was struck with an acute desire to be worthy of that trust, and a deep yearning to prove to her that it was not misplaced. 

After a long moment, Felicity dropped his hands, taking large step backward in a move designed to decrease the tension. Truthfully, she was a little impressed by Oliver Queen. He was a lot more gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful than she would have thought.  She had expected him to be obnoxious, entitled, and immature, the type of person who, finding himself in this situation, would either panic or make a joke of the whole thing. Either way, she’d have expected him to be throwing his money around trying to save himself, not quietly and calmly following her lead. And no way would she have predicted he was capable of being so respectful of her body. Probably more respectful of her body than she was being of his. Not that she had forced him to feel her up…but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fleetingly, she wondered if it counted as sexual harassment to get turned on when a man was merely trying to locate a knife in your bra so you could escape a kidnapping situation. 

For his part, Oliver’s admiration for Felicity was growing exponentially. She was much more resourceful and level headed than he would have expected anyone to be in her situation. From the moment she opened her mouth, she’d already proven herself smarter and more sensible than most people in his experience - she had a cautious,  strategic manner that he was unused to in other people. 

“So now what?” he asked, caught up in the intelligence in her eyes, the mystery of her presence. Even though he was the one with a plan and she was technically just an inconvenience, he momentarily set that aside because he just wanted to know. He wanted to know what she was planning to do. He wanted to know her. “You mentioned you have a plan, one that requires your hands be free,” he prodded, hoping she would fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

“That’s for me to know,” she countered playfully, holding his gaze as she reached into her bra, pulling something else out, “and you to find out.”

His eyes widened and dropped to her chest before snapping back up, unsure if she meant anything by it. Again, it was the last thing he expected. And again, it set his heart racing. 

“Or, I mean, not to find out. There will be no finding out, from you. Just stay there and look pretty.” Her eyes grew rounder. “Not that you’re pretty, it’s just an expression. Just sit there.” She backed away until she ran into the desk, and then she dropped to the ground and started feeling around underneath it.

He watched her with amused eyes, interested in her actions and utterly captivated by her. “I’m not pretty?” he pressed, curious to know how she would react.

Her head popped up from the other side of the desk, sending him an exasperated look. “No! I mean, yes! Very pretty like, really very attractive, objectively speaking I mean, I’m not coming on to you. It’s science; you’re scientifically pretty.” Her head disappeared again beneath the desk.

Oliver stood up, drawn to her, until he was leaning over the desk looking down at her ass protruding from under the desk. “Scientifically pretty?”

Felicity visibly startled, then took a deep breath, then carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, crawled backwards and rose out from under the desk, smoothing down her hair. She arched her brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these anti-science climate change denier people.”

Oliver guffawed, unable to come up with a fitting response. She was unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Instead of answering, he watched as she sat herself at the desk and instantly penetrated the password protection, diving with singular focus directly into the files on Alonzo’s computer. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment, fascinated by her actions. He knew time was precious, that he should be taking the opportunity to riffle through drawers, search filing cabinets, etc., but rather than pursue his mission, he couldn’t help but pull at the loose thread that was Felicity Smoak. 

She lifted distracted eyes to him, giving the distinct impression that he had yanked her out of a very deep concentration, despite the fact that it had only been twenty seconds since she’d sat down. He expected her to crack another joke, but instead she blinked and said seriously, “It’s better you don’t know,” before returning her attention to the computer. 

Surprised, Oliver slipped off the desk he’d been casually leaning against, the hair raising on the back of his neck; her words were like a warning, almost ominous. Who was she? Why was she here? What was she involved in? Habits shaped over the past five years forced him to question her motives: honest people rarely found themselves involved with guys like Dominic Alonzo; he had to consider that Felicity might not be as innocent as she seemed; he had to wonder if she might even be on the list. But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. His five years away had also taught him to trust his instincts, and every single part of him was shouting at him to trust her. 

“Okay,” she announced a few seconds later, “I need you to come here and keep an eye on this feed.” 

Oliver stepped up beside her to where she was pointing at CCTV footage in a corner of the computer monitor. “What is that?”

“Security feed, showing the corridor just outside. This way we can know ahead of time if anyone’s coming.” Her eyes returned to the screen, where she was still methodically searching through the computer’s files.

“Felicity,” Oliver said firmly, coming to a decision even as his eyes obediently remained glued on the feed. 

“Hmm?”

Oliver took a deep breath, his racing mind rapidly drawing conclusions that he couldn’t quite believe were true. But every objection he came up with was easily disproved; rather, every detail about her only seemed to confirm the picture that was forming in his mind. 

Huli jing.

“Felicity,” he repeated, and this time the name felt familiar on his tongue, like he had been saying it his whole life, like he had been born to say it. “You need to tell me why you’re here.” 

He knew. There was no denying it; when she spoke, it was with the voice he’d been hearing in his head for seven months. When she smiled, it was with the unique humor that had amused him like nothing else had been able to do since returning from the island. And when she looked at him, it was with eyes that perceived all the things he didn’t say. It was her. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oliver, look,” she began, unexpectedly turning to meet his eyes. He was nearly flattened by the look of sincere regret and conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about before, what I said.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion. 

“When I said you hadn’t changed. I was wrong. The person the tabloids make you out to be - that’s not who you are. And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Oliver’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s not -”

“No, it is necessary,” she pressed, misunderstanding what he was going to say. “I made assumptions, and they were completely unfair.” Over his protests, she continued, “I don’t know what you did out there to piss off the casino bosses, but I’m really sorry you’re caught up in this. Please,” she emphasized, “just believe me when I tell you that the less you know, the safer you’ll be.” She reached out a hand but started to pull it back before it made contact with his chest, and he caught it between his own before she could fully withdraw.

“Felicity.” He fixed her with a steady, knowing look, and he heard her breath catch, and felt her pulse pick up under his fingers. “I need to ask you something.”

Felicity’s eyes widened at his sudden, inexplicable intensity and focus. She had no idea Oliver Queen was capable of such depth and sincerity. His large hands were cradling her, his thumb soothing over her wrist, and she had long ago surrendered to that penetrating look in his eyes. “What?” she breathed, not knowing what Oliver Queen could tell her that required so much intensity and passion, but suddenly very much wanting to find out.

His words were the last thing she expected to hear. “Are you here because of the Hood?”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

Before he could respond, he caught sight of someone on the security feed walking up the hallway. “Someone’s coming!”

She turned to the feed, then instantly went to the computer and, with a blur of hands on the keyboard, logged off and put the monitor to sleep. There was no time for anything else, so without thinking any further, Oliver reached around her body, pressing her wrists together behind her in an approximation of being handcuffed, secured his own hands behind his back, then pressed his mouth to hers in an urgent kiss.  

Felicity gasped in surprise, and he instinctively used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, coaxing her lips open, his tongue seeking hers. After a stunned moment, she responded with ardor, the passion exploding like a match to dry tinder. 

Kissing her was like putting the last piece of the puzzle in place. 

For seven months, he had been drawn to the woman with intriguingly contradictory parts: a dizzyingly sharp partner who amused and irritated and charmed and inspired him. 

For seven months, the more space he allowed her in his mission, the wider the empty hole that only she could fill had become in his life. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, but meeting her face to face meant he could no longer deny how he felt about her.  He had been drawn to her since he saw her, his body seeking any excuse to touch hers. Everything about her provoked and challenged and called to him; her passion, her intelligence, her humor, her bravery, and the glimpses of vulnerability. 

She was the woman he’d been waiting for, and if the way she was responding to him was any indication, she’d been waiting for him too. 

He bore down on her, covering her with his body, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands behind his back. The need to touch her is like electricity in his veins, and he forgot everything but the urgent need to be close to her.  

“What’s going on?” The voice broke into the moment like a bucket of cold water. 

Oliver’s lips released Felicity’s reluctantly, and she met his eyes as she pulled back. Her pupils were nearly black, her lips parted and swollen, and the sight sent a jolt through his body to his already throbbing dick. 

“Oliver Queen, you really can’t control yourself, can you?” asked Dominic Alonzo, striding into the room. “I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a pain in my ass.”

Oliver glanced once more at Felicity, and the last thought he had before turning his attention to Alonzo was that she looked utterly shell-shocked.

…to be continued…

[ayma-nidiot]

“Don’t Speak Their Names” - Shrimpshipping fic Chapter 34 (LAST CHAPTER)

This chapter on AO3 can be found here.

Epilogue - The Evergreen Greenhouse

~29 December 2007~

Even throughout his almost-over undergrad career - which involved a lot of trips to archaeological sites with Spinos - Rex still found the time to duel. As a matter of fact, he proudly approached the front door of his off-campus apartment with a trophy he just won from a local tournament - and against his father, no less.

“Weeves!” Rex called out. “I just won the tournament! Since we both just turned 21, why don’t we go celebrate with drinks?”

The first one to answer him was not his new husband, but rather his 2-year-old daughter. “Papa!”

���Amber!” Rex picked Amber up and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “How ya’ doing, big girl?”

Indeed, Amber was a big girl; though she just turned two years old, she already showed signs of being gifted. She could already speak in complete sentences, count to 100, and recite the alphabet pretty well. Still, she loved many of the same things that typical toddlers did - not the least of which was her mother. “I’m feeling awesome! But… But…”

“You okay?”

“Someone’s not feeling so awesome… It’s Daddy.”

“Why, what’s wrong with him?” Rex put Amber down, and allowed her to lead him to the loo. He was not at all pleased to see Weevil there, praying to the porcelain goddess. “Gods, Weevil! What’s wrong?”

“Ugh…” Weevil gave Rex a pained look before throwing up into the loo again.

“Daddy’s been like this aaaaall morning.” Amber sounded like she was about to cry. “What should we do, Papa?”

It was then that Rex had just remembered Weevil drizzling a ton of chocolate syrup over his fried bee larvae a few weeks ago. At first, he thought that Weevil was just being a buttmunch as usual. But then Rex recalled the cravings he had during his pregnancy - and the speech his college doctor gave him, the one that all male shapeshifters were capable of getting pregnant. “It… It can’t be…”

“Papa?” Amber looked at her mother quizzically.

“Amber, get my phone. I’m gonna call the doctor and get Daddy there right away.”

After his wave of nausea finally abated, and Rex had made that call, Weevil put the toilet cover back on and pouted at his husband. “Rex, honey, come on. You don’t have to go that far. Just give me some Pepto-Bismol, and I’ll be fine.”

“Throwing up for an entire morning is totally not fine.” Rex picked Weevil up princess-style and put him in the middle of the 2006 Mazda 5 with Amber. “And you’re about to see that.”

____________

~A quick drive and 30 minutes later~

“So… So, what did you find, Doctor?” Weevil asked Dr. Balls.

“After performing the ultrasound, we’ve discovered that you’re pregnant, Mr. Raptor. Eleven weeks, to be exact.”

“What a sweet coincidence…” Rex smiled as he stroked Weevil’s belly.

“Anyway, I do not anticipate that you will need hospitalization, just some light bed rest for now. I’ll prescribe some antiemetics, though. You are more than welcome to visit should you feel the need to do so.”

“I… I see. Thank you, Doctor.” After Dr. Balls left, Weevil turned to glare at his husband. “Why didn’t you tell me that I’m capable of getting pregnant, dino brain?”

“Yeah, about that…” Rex scratched his nose. “When I first visited this doctor, he told me that all male shapeshifters are intersex. But they each have their own unique heat cycles, depending on what they can change into. Yours just aren’t as frequent as mine.”

“...Humph.”

“I’m sorry, Weeves, are you mad? You still want to keep the baby, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’ll keep the baby, all right. But you better treat me to bee larvae whenever I ask for it.”

“Yay!” Amber gave her father a happy hug. “I’m going to be a big sister!”

“Indeed you are,” spoke a middle-aged woman in scrubs, who had just entered the room.

“What? Mother?” Weevil didn’t expect to see Camellia come out of nowhere. “What are you doing here?”

“Grandma!” Amber ran to Camellia to give her a hug too. 

“I’m just getting some shadowing hours, that’s all,” Camellia spoke as she hugged her granddaughter back. “After seeing what Rex went through during his pregnancy, I’ve decided that I want to become an obstetrician.”

“That’s great! Congratulations!” 

Rex’s smile turned upside down when Camellia turned on the T.V., and the first thing that came on was a replay of Weevil’s now-infamous regionals victory.

“It’s hard to believe that Rex Raptor used to lose so much back in the day,” one of the Duel Monster Channel’s announcers spoke over a still of Rex’s face in defeat. “But now that he’s won a championship against Spinos Saurus, I think he’ll reach his former fame once again.”

“Oooh!” Amber had never seen this duel of her parents in their teen years. “Is that you, Papa?”

Rex facepalmed. “Yeah, yeah, that’s your Papa, all right.”

“So have you learned to use strategy since then, dino brain?” 

“Nah. Strategies are for dweebs and bug boys.” Rex held tightly onto Weevil’s hand. “And I’m so proud to be married to a man who’s both of them.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

The doctor interrupted this conversation, coming in with a few papers. “Okay, Mr. Raptor, here are your antiemetic prescriptions. I’m also going to schedule your 20-week ultrasound. As you know, not only will we be able to search for abnormalities, but we can also determine the sex of your baby.”

Weevil had just recalled what Phuckdis said right when future Amber was “supposed” to kill the bug duelist. “Oh, there won’t be a need for that second one. I already know that I’m carrying a boy.”

“You… You sure?” Camellia asked.

“I’m willing to bet my deck on it.”

“Then how are you supposed to beat me, bug boy?” spoke a voice from the adjacent hospital bed.

“Whoa!” Rex turned around to see Mai laying on that bed, with Joey by her side. “Again with the coincidental meetings, Joey?”

“Great, just the person I wanted to see…” Weevil felt another wave of nausea about to hit him, and clutched his gut tighter.

“Hey!” Amber ran over to Joey. “Now look what you did to Daddy!”

“Ehehehe…” Joey waved a nervous hand. “Hey.”

“...I know you! You’re that big meanie who took Papa’s Red-Eyes Black Dragon and Daddy’s Insect Queen, aren’t you?”

“Amber!”

Amber ignored her mother. “Someday, I’m going to beat you and get them back! You’ll see!” She stuck her tongue out at Joey. “You big buttmunch!”

“Okay, Amber, that’s enough,” Rex laughed as he picked up his daughter.

“I suppose our rivalry never really will die, will it?” Joey laughed back, then turned to talk to Amber. “Amber, you’re a very smart kid. I’d love to duel you someday.”

“...” Amber only pouted in response. “Okay, but you’re going to be bug juice.”

Weevil smiled, as he always did when his daughter used catch phrases from both of her parents. “So what brings you here, Joey?”

“Well…” Mai sat upright. “I’m almost done with my degree, and I moved to this university for the upper-level courses. I started feeling sick on my way to class today, so Joey escorted me to the clinic. And… it turns out I’m pregnant. With triplets, if I might add.”

“And if you couldn’t tell, I’m the dad!” Joey proclaimed proudly. 

“Of course, this idiot got the whole ‘marry first, have kids later’ thing backwards.” Mai rolled her eyes. “He only got the courage to propose to me yesterday.”

“Touché,” replied Weevil.

“Soooo.” Rex waggled his eyebrows at Joey. “Looks like Weeves and I weren’t the only ones busy making babies on my wedding night.”

“Hehehehe...” Joey chuckled nervously. “And what a coincidence that Mai and Weevil will probably give birth on the same day.”

“Then maybe you should be the ‘godparents’ of our son.” Weevil was only half-joking.

“You know what I think would be cool?” Rex stepped forward and started making grand gestures. “If we had one bed over here and another one over here. Weeves and Mai can be in the same delivery room. That way, we can all witness each other’s kids’ births.”

“I’m down for that!” Weevil and Mai appeared to agree with Joey.

“Actually, that can be arranged,” Dr. Balls cut in. “It’s more common than you think for friends or their spouses to give birth together.”

“Good to know.” Weevil groaned slightly as he got out of bed. “Well, I’ve got a final paper to write for biochemistry, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“Weeves, take it easy!” Rex helped Weevil out of the bed until he was confident he could walk on his own. “It would suck if you threw up all over your expensive laptop - or all over this floor - now wouldn’t it?”

“So I’ll see you again in nine weeks?” Dr. Balls patted Weevil on the shoulder, giving him the ultrasound pictures on his way out.

“You bet.”

“Fantastic. Now, no dueling or other strenuous activities until your second trimester, understood?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Weevil bowed on his way to the nearby pharmacy, giving a congratulations nod to Joey and Mai. He didn’t feel nauseated at the moment, but still felt muscle soreness from his morning sickness bout. He rubbed his belly while waiting for his antiemetic medications to be made, speaking to the unborn child in there. “So help me Ra, if I ruin my entire semester’s work because of you, you’ll be sorry.”

“That’s not very nice!” Rex used a much more caring tone with their future child, patting Weevil’s belly at the same time. “Don’t listen to your mom; he’s just cranky. Final exams and all that.”

“It’s weird how I’m the mom this time around… So, we can get each other pregnant.” Even with his antiemetics now in hand, Weevil didn’t yet feel like getting up from the pharmacy’s small sofa.

“Hey, Weevil?”

“Yeah, Rex?”

“Wouldn’t it be cool if we could, like, get each other pregnant at the same time?”

“Hahaha!” Weevil refrained from laughing too loudly, out of fear of exacerbating his morning sickness again. But now he felt like getting up, and held Amber by the hand. “Yeah, right. The stars would have to align perfectly for us to be in heat at the exact same time. Oh, and Rex?”

“Yeah, Weevil?”

“You owe me ¥2000 if the child I’m carrying is a boy.”

“Naw, that’s no good. You’ll owe me ¥3000 if it’s a girl.”

“Then it’s on!”

_________

~02 March 2007, 11:00~

“Hmm!” Dr. Balls looked closer at the 4D-ultrasound. “Well, Mr. Raptor, I’ll be. You guessed right; you are carrying your first son. And he’s a perfectly healthy lad, he is.”

“Ha!” Weevil turned to smirk at Rex. “What’d I tell you? Now pay up.”

“Grr, whatever…” Rex forked over three ¥1000 bills. “Seeing as how we’re married and share most of our finances, this is kind of pointless.”

“Aww!” Amber kissed Weevil’s growing baby bump. “Hi there, baby brother. I can’t wait to meet you!”

“Since the two of you will complete your doctorate work at the university, you’re more than welcome to give birth here,” Dr. Balls informed his patient while rummaging through files on his tablet. “Especially if you and Rex plan to teach at this university someday. Now, let’s see… Your due date is July 20th. A day before your own birthday, if memory serves.”

“Yeah, well, you know that whole thing about most people not giving birth on their due dates? I get the vibe I won’t. And with any luck, Mai won’t either.”

“The important thing is that the both of you have healthy pregnancies, yeah?” Dr. Balls began to pack a few items for Weevil. “By chance, Rex, do you still have the fetal doppler from your pregnancy?”

“Of course. I couldn’t just part with the damn thing.”

“Splendid! And, as always, feel free to call if and when you need something. Good day now!”

“Good day.” With that, Weevil blocked the incoming sun from his eyes, and without looking, he knew a bee had just landed on his finger. “Say, Rex? Can we stop by somewhere really quick before lunch? I just got an idea.”

“Sure! Where, exactly?” Rex spoke with Amber sitting upon his shoulders.

“I want to visit my old home. You know, the one I haven’t set foot into in nearly four years.”

“Whatever for?” Rex couldn’t believe that Weevil would ever want to go to the home he was mercilessly abused in. 

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“Argh, I’m not that patient, you know!” 

“Careful.” Weevil pointed to Amber as the small family crossed the street. “You’ve got a toddler on your shoulders.”

Before Rex could think of a comeback to that, he heard a middle-aged man’s voice suddenly call out from underneath him. “Change? You got spare change, young man?”

“Huh?” Rex looked down to see a raggedy man in a group of other homeless people. “Sorry, but I don’t carry cash on me.”

“Is it…?” The homeless man got up to get a better look at Weevil. “Could you be…?”

“Hey!” Rex put Amber down and instantly got defensive of Weevil. “Leave my husband alone, you freak!”

“No, hun, it’s okay.” Weevil stopped Rex from throwing any punches. “I know this man.”

“Weeves?” Rex couldn’t understand why Weevil, of all people, would want to take time out of his busy day to talk to a group of homeless people.

“So what happened?” Weevil asked.

“It turns out that I couldn’t keep The Underwood Company afloat. Not only were we about to file for bankruptcy, but all my employees revolted. Now I’m stuck here, depending on the goodwill of others just to have something to eat.”

“And they revolted because of how horribly you treated them, didn’t they? You know that maid Adelaide you abused, just because she was being kind to me? She’s working on her business degree now and wants to take over the company - under a new name, of course. In fact, my family and I were just on our way to visit the old Underwood house. Oh, and just so you know, your ex-wife is going to be an obstetrician soon. Not even your horrific abuse of her could stop her from achieving her dreams.” Weevil held his baby bump protectively. “Or mine.”

“Adelaide and Camellia are…” The homeless man knelt and cried. “And you…?”

“I can’t believe I’ve wasted my time talking to you. I have better things to do with my time. I hope that you suffer for the remainder of your days, and that karma is an utter bitch to you.” Weevil got one last look at the homeless man. “Goodbye, Roach Underwood.”

“Daddy, who is this creepy guy?” Amber looked at the homeless man curiously, still unaware of just who he was or what he had done.

“That’s just it - a creepy guy.” Weevil gestured for Amber to grab his hand. “Come along, Amber, there’s something I want you to see.”

“Weeves… That man we met, is he…?” Rex tried to say as Weevil rang the doorbell to the Underwood mansion; surprisingly, the exterior was rather well-kept.

“Yes. He is.”

Rex didn’t need to hear anything more, and didn’t want to dwell on what he knew was a prickly subject. So instead he commented on how nice Weevil’s childhood home looked like on the inside.

“Is that…?” One of Weevil’s old butlers noticed his former master’s presence.

“You can let him in!” Adelaide called from a far-off room. “It’s Master Weevil!”

“Master Weevil, you have returned!” Several maids and butlers flocked the entrance of the home, giving Weevil lots of hugs.

“Oh, I never thought I’d see the day!” a maid cried. “You look just like Madame Camellia!”

“Guys, guys, take it easy!” Weevil showed off his baby bump after everyone had stopped. “I’m not a little kid anymore; I have my own family now.”

“‘Sup!” Rex waved. “I’m Weevil’s husband, Rex Raptor. And this is our daughter, Ambrosia Camellia Ptera Raptor.”

“How do you do?” Amber curtsied with her sun dress.

“Oh-ho!” Adelaide chuckled. “You’ve raised a fine young lady already. Not to mention you’ve given her a pretty middle name. Well, now that you’re here, what can I do for you? Some lunch, perhaps?”

“Before we get to that, I want to show Amber a little something. By chance, is my childhood greenhouse still here?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It’s the only room in the mansion that has remained untouched by the renovations.”

“R-Really?” Weevil didn’t expect that response from Adelaide. 

“Yes, really! Feel free to check it out for as long as you like before lunch.”

“Thank you! Come on, guys, come see!” Weevil sounded far more excited than either Rex or Amber. He cried tears of joy upon arrival, and stopped to smell a hibiscus flower. “It… looks just like I remember!”

“What’s so exciting about a bunch of plants?” Rex didn’t want to admit it, but he wasn’t all too interested in looking at a bunch of plants.

“Yes, we’ve got the best plants ever, but there’s something even better. Something that’s made me into the duelist I am today.” Weevil allowed a moth caterpillar from the hibiscus flower to crawl on his finger, and showed it to Amber. “Amber, this is a baby Acherontia lachesis , or the greater death’s head hawkmoth.”

“It looks just like your Petit Moth, Daddy!” Amber let the caterpillar crawl on her finger too. “It’s sooooo cute! Ooh!” A pink butterfly landed on Amber’s nose, causing the toddler to sneeze.

“You just sneezed off Greta oto, or the glasswing butterfly.”

“It’s so pretty!” Amber laughed, wanting to play with every little insect that touched her. “Can I stay here forever? Pretty please, Daddy? I wanna learn more about your beautiful bugs!”

“Wish we could, but Auntie Adelaide is gonna have lunch ready soon. But you can play here until then.”

“Hooray!” And with that, Amber ran off with the hawkmoth caterpillar still in her hand.

“Should you really be letting our toddler play with a creepy crawler called ‘death’s head hawkmoth?’” Rex raised an eyebrow.

“Spoken like a dino brain who doesn’t know jack diddly squat about insects.”

“Well, at least it’s good to know how you became an insect duelist.” Rex hugged his husband from behind as he watched their daughter play in the greenhouse. He let his hand drop to Weevil’s baby bump.

“She looks just like me when I was little. If it wasn’t for this greenhouse, I… I don’t know where I’d be today.” Weevil placed his hand on top of Rex’s. “I wonder if I can get our son to love insects, too.”

“So…” Rex laced his fingers with Weevil’s. “Speaking of our little boy, what do you think we should name him?”

Thinking about his adventures in San Francisco with Rex seven years ago, and how they deepened their bond there, it didn’t take Weevil long to think of an answer. “I want our son to be named Francis Bakura Raptor.”

____________

Author’s Note: HOLY SHIT, thank you for those of you who stuck this far. This is my second longest fic, and it's for a rare pair! As always, leave comments, constructive criticism, etc. if you can!

[sopewriters]

La Vie En Rose

Pairing: Kim Jongdae | Chen x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, and a dash of Humor (I tried!); Soumate!AU where, upon meeting your soulmate, you can only see the world in shades of pink

Wordcount: 5.5K

Summary: It was a chaotic morning, and you were running late, and everything that could possibly have gone wrong did go wrong, and then... you found him. If only you hadn’t lost him just as quick.

Notes: It took me a billion years to write this for the @kwritersworld​ Spring Fic Exchange, not that I’m surprised (I mean, it’s me). Still, I was kinda scratching my head over my keyword: La Vie En Rose and figured I might as well write a soulmate!AU. AKA “I took my keyword very literally”. But, in any case, I hope you enjoy reading this, @roseyjongdae!

Unoriginal title is unoriginal!

As the cold, icy season has come to melt, Perhaps spring will come.

- Kim Jongdae, April, and a Flower

You’ve always contemplated it in bouts of lonely, wishful thinking. You like to imagine the feel of a soft palm sliding against yours. The fingers tangling in yours, snug and firm and there, saying it’s okay and I’m here. The reassurance that comes along with the presence of the One, the one you’ve been waiting for this whole time.

The one who’ll wash every last bit of pain away, the one who’ll wash the world in pretty shades of pink, of that color you’ve been aching to see your whole life. The one who’ll be by your side for better or worse. That one.

Your Soulmate.

You’ve heard people talking about their soulmates since you were young. Most of them were bright-cheeked, beaming, eyes crinkled and cheeks full as they gushed on and on about how they never could’ve imagined their lives without each other. Losing the colors was worth it, they say, but that’s the one thing you don’t understand. Why complain about switching color palettes? From what you’ve seen, pink is a gorgeous color anyway. It can’t possibly something anyone would regret.

Or, well, that’s what you think, until the day comes where you experience it for yourself.

As it happens, you might be running a little late. Now, while most people you know seem quite adamant that you suffer from Chronic Lateness, you beg to differ; you really don’t know where they get their (wrong) ideas from. They make no sense. Really. You’re always on time and they’re just jealous of the fact that they can’t be as timely as you, and that’s final.

But anyways, you really are late today. And it seems strangely fitting that it’s on your first day of work and, of course, in true cliché fashion, it’s raining.

Yep. Raining.

And spring rains, while admittedly beautiful, are the very last thing you need right now.

You struggle with your umbrella as you try and shield yourself from the onslaught, pushing through crowds of people simultaneously. You’re half-running, half-jogging really, trying your best to not to accidentally run someone over, but it’s too hard, isn’t okay if there’s a little collateral damage? Convinced by your wicked thoughts, your eyes fully squeeze shut and you push through the loitering humans using your umbrella as a literal shield. You hear some affronted noises, but they’re lost over the sound of the rain, and god, your dress, no!

You drop your umbrella just in time to keep your dress from being splashed by a zooming bicyclist.

So many regrets, and the day’s only just begun.

“Excuse me!” You push through again, and you’re almost there, yes – and that’s when you tumble forward, tripping over your heels as you fall into a firm chest. Blindly pushing yourself away, you suck in a breath when your fingers brush over warm skin, only shouting a quick, “sorry!” before ducking away. You hear someone call for you, but you really don’t have time to deal with an offended person right now – not when yoU’RE LATE!!!

When you finally break free of the crowd and make it to the front of your building, you let yourself take a breather, one hand braced against your knee while the other continues to hold your umbrella over your head. Desperately drawing in air, you finally let your eyes drift open once again, sighing softly as you watch pink rain puddle at your feet. Ah, you’ve made it. Your eyes drift shut once more.

Then, they snap open.

Wait a minute. Pink rain? Pink puddles?

You chance a glance around, heart thumping painfully quickly in your chest – and let out a gasp of horror when you see the world bathed in shades of pink. The cars zooming past you? Pink. The people walking around you? Pink. You chance a glance at your hands.

Pink.

“No.” You murmur to yourself, hands beginning to shake as realization slowly dawns. “No, no, no, no! No way!”

Some passersby stare weirdly at you, no doubt thinking you somewhat crazy, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. Not when the world is crumbling away beneath your feet. Not when all your dreams, your hopes, have been decimated in one clean hit.

Oh god no. You’ve found your soulmate. Or, more accurately, you did. But they’re long gone now, lost in the crowd. That warm skin, the decidedly male voice calling out to you… that must’ve been them, right? God, if you’d just – if you’d just waited or listened to them and stopped, then you would’ve been able to speak to your soulmate. You – you would’ve…

You tremble as your eyes sting, and suck in a sharp breath when you remember.

As much as you’d love to dissolve into tears, you’re going to need to get yourself together until you’re done with work. Once you’re back home, alone, and preferably swaddled in a blanket… then you can have your inevitable breakdown.

For now, you take in a deep breath and push back your shoulders. You’re going to do your job today and do it well. So what if everything you look at is going to remind you of an opportunity missed? So what if you’ll probably never see both colors and your soulmate again?

So… so what?

You shudder, choking back a sob, and walk inside, greeting the receptionist with a tiny grin. It’s all you can manage right now, really.

“Hi, I’m supposed to meet Mr. Kang at nine?”

The man working behind the counter looks up, visibly startled. Then, a slow smile spreads over his lips, transforming his face into something less stressed and much, much more youthful.

“Oh!” He beams at you. “You must be the new intern!”

You smile a little easier this time, though it’s still dampened by the fact that his hair, his eyes and his skin still look very pink to you. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Alright, let’s get you set up really quick.” He clacks quickly at his laptop. “You don’t need to be so nervous, by the way! Brian’s a big ol’ softie.”

Brian? Is that your Boss’ name?

“Here we go.” He presses a couple more buttons on his keyboard, before looking up at you expectantly, the light glinting off his glasses. Huh, it’s funny that even that’s pink. God, any more pink and you might actually throw up. “Could I have your phone number and an ID please?”

As you rattle it off, you let yourself observe how different everything looks, now that you can’t see normal colors anymore. The thought sends a pang through you, so you stop looking pretty quick.

And ah, right, you’re supposed to give him your ID. You slide your hand into your pocket, groping around for the old school ID you kept in there specifically for this purpose, though you come up blank. With a sigh of frustration, you pull out your wallet and find, thankfully, that you actually do have your license, which must be a blessing sent from the heavens.

The only blessing today, as it so happens.

The man grins cheerfully at you, quickly checking your identification before handing the card back to you, and you make sure to slide it back inside your wallet. You don’t need to deal with forgetting another ID – and a super relevant one too, this time.

“Okay, I’ll show you up then!” He stands up suddenly, and wow, he’s tall. “I’m Jae, by the way! Nice to meet you, intern!”

“Nice to meet you too.” You manage as you follow him, wondering whether he’s just allowed to leave his station unmanned like that. Well, it’ll help you out, so you suppose it shouldn’t matter. “Um, so is there anything else I should know about Mr. Kwon?”

You know, apart from ‘Brian’ being a softie?

“Hm…” Jae purses his lips in thought, lighting up. “Well, don’t call him Brian and you should be fine! He hates being called that at work, haha!”

Yeah. He even pronounced the ha-ha.

You stare at him in slight disbelief. If anything, this ridiculous guy serves as a great distraction from, well, everything else. Uncharted territory that should remain uncharted for as long as you say so: forever.

So, realistically speaking, not a long time. Once you’re done talking to this Brian guy, you just need to find the nearest bathroom stall to lock yourself in so you can drown in your tears. Yep. Sounds like a plan.

Jae suddenly stops short and it’s only because you looked up at just that moment that you don’t go crashing into him. “We’re here!” he announces helpfully. “Hey Brian!”

You only now look past him, finding a man sitting at a desk, clearly focused on something in his laptop. At Jae’s obnoxious shout, his head shoots up and he groans.

“Who’s Brian?” He grouses, and Jae just laughs cheerfully.

“Good question! Anyway, this is the intern you were telling me to keep an eye out for.” He sweeps his hand over you in a grand gesture, making you wince. “You’ll probably want to take it from here.”

“Yeah man, I got it. Thanks.” Brian – no, Mr. Kwon – waves Jae away and, with one last cheerful grin, the taller man’s gone. You’re all alone with your Boss now and—

God, this is nerve-wracking.

“So, there are some basic things you’ll need to do.” Brian stands, carrying some files with him. The dull awareness from before is gone now, and you snap to attention, automatically receiving the papers into your outstretched hands. “Since you’re just interning, and this is your first day, you’re not going to be doing anything particularly hands-on just yet.”

“Got it.” You nod, though you can’t help the tiny well of disappointment in your chest.

Brian notices, and smiles softly at you. “Hey. You’ll get there, don’t worry.”

“Yeah.” You grin, then heft your arms with the files still in them. “So, uh, what do I need to do with these?”

“Just go through them, fix up general issues like typos and grammar errors, if any.” Brian shrugs, before his face folds in thought. “And, what else… ah, right. The Boss isn’t in right now, but you’ll meet him later.”

Wait, what?

“Oh, alright!” You try and mask your surprise, though Brian clearly notices.

The smile on his face is wry. “You thought I was the Boss, didn’t you? I keep telling Jae to stop selling me like that, but he never listens.”

“Well.” You laugh, a little very harried at being read so easily. “You seem really capable.”

This time, the smile is a little more genuine. “Thanks. Your desk’s over there, so let me know if you need any help or if something seems unclear. If you ever need to go to the general workplace area – with all the other employees – that’d be one floor down.”

“Alright, thank you.” You quickly make your way to your (your!!) desk, setting the files down, followed by your bag and, finally your umbrella. The troublesome thing’s wet, you only now notice with dismay, but, luckily, you’ve kept a plastic bag on hand for this very purpose. Sometimes, being prepared can take you a long way.

Having work to do is actually a blessing in disguise. Sure, working sucks sometimes, but this is what you’re here to do – and it helps distract you somewhat. It’s still pretty difficult for you to completely forget, especially when the pink still encompasses your vision, making certain graphs difficult to read – but you notice how it already begins to fade, natural color slowly returning to your field of vision.

Maybe it’s a temporary thing, then? The pink goes away after some time if you haven’t met your soulmate?

…you don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. Why not the best of both?

“How’s it coming along?” Time must have flown by pretty quickly because, by the time Brian calls out to you, it’s already past noon. “You should probably take a break soon.”

“Yeah, I’m almost done going through this report.” You hold up a page, like it’ll actually tell him anything of relevance. “Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Kwon!”

He hides a pleased smile, no doubt because you didn’t call him Brian, unlike Jae. “No problem. Ah, right, the Boss isn’t coming in today after all – he texted me a while ago, so. You don’t need to be on super-high alert today.”

Oh. You’re a little disappointed, but the relief at not having to make a fool of yourself just yet is far more overpowering. Thanking him, you set up wrapping up your report so you can get lunch.

If this is all you’re going to need to do while you’re here, then this is going to be a more uneventful internship than you previously thought.

The next couple of days pass the same way. Your Boss still hasn’t come to the office which, according to Brian, is pretty unusual.

“He’s probably just having an off week.” He shrugs. “He doesn’t usually miss any days, so it’s really alright, I think.”

An off-week, huh? You can empathize very much on that front. Though, really, calling your week ‘off’ would be an understatement; your week has literally gone to hell, and it’s never coming back. You managed to both find and lose your soulmate in a matter of minutes at the beginning of the week, and god, just thinking about it is enough to make you tear up again.

Why isn’t life ever fair?

The pink that used to encroach in your vision has all but disappeared, and it’s only the lightest shade of rose that dusts everything you see, almost none of those pretty lies left. Is it weird for you to miss it now that it’s gone?

“What’s got you so deep in thought?”

You startle when a voice slices in, curious. Swiveling around quickly, you breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s only Jae.

You didn’t need to sneak up on me, you want to say, but you bite back the words. Instead, you just sigh, “nothing, really. I was just zoning out.”

Which, you know, isn’t technically a lie.

“At work? Oh my.” Jae gasps softly, lifting a hand to his mouth in mock affront - like he hasn’t done the same thing over multiple instances. He seems a little too easy going but you tell yourself that, once your boss comes in, he’ll probably shut up a little.

(Alright, so you don’t exactly mind that he comes over constantly, but you feel like you should, you know?)

“Yes, yes.” You let yourself smile a little, dropping your cheek into your palm as you side-eye him. “Is there anything you need, or…?”

Jae smiles sheepishly at you. “Yeah, actually. Brian wanted me to go on a coffee run, but…”

Oh god. You barely manage to suppress a groan – you’ve actually been really happy that you haven’t had to do that just yet, but it looks like luck just isn’t on your side. Ugh.

“I’ll do it.” You offer in defeat – though is it really an offer when you’re aware you have no choice? Huh. “How many people is it for?”

“Six, not including you.” Jae beams happily at you. “You just need to get them up here, and I can take them to the guys downstairs no problem! And – ah, right – here’s a list so you don’t forget.”

He slides a paper onto your desk, grin turning sleazy for all of two seconds. “Thanks for the favor.”

“You owe me.” You feel brave enough to say, making Jae laugh in agreement.

Gathering the slip of paper in your palm, you get up, pulling on your coat once more. It isn’t raining, thank god, but it looks like it might, and it’s definitely cold right now. “I’ll see the both of you soon!”

Brian waves half-heartedly, and Jae sends you another thankful grin that you return wanly before you ride down to the first floor again. At least it’s Friday, you think optimistically in a bid to make yourself feel better. You can go home and just crash for the whole weekend, provided you don’t have any more work to do.

You mentally touch wood. You are not jinxing yourself, not today.

Making your way out of the building, you pause, blinking up at the cloudy sky with a sigh, before walking in the direction of the nearest coffee shop. You’ve got its location down by now, since, well. Coffee.

The shop looks a little busy, you realize as you duck inside, trying to avoid bumping into people who’re reveling in their own cups of coffee. Still, it’s alright. You can deal with this kind of crowd – it’s not as bad as it could have been.

When you finally, finally get to the front of the line, you manage to rattle off your orders without making a fool of yourself, so you count it as a win; the girl at the counter, however, looks confused so you end up giving her the slip of paper with everyone’s orders on it so she can ring you up.

Alright, so. It’s not a complete win, but as far as some things go, you think this is pretty damn good. It is. Especially given Jae’s completely ridiculous order.

You’re a little bored, though, when you stand off to the side in wait. You already know you’re going to be standing a long time, given how large your order is, but should you sit down…?

As you furiously debate over this (very, very important) subject in your head, you’re startled when someone clears their throat from behind you.

“Sorry!” You yelp, immediately shuffling to the side. “I didn’t mean to get in your way!”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that!” It’s a man’s voice, you realize, turning around to actually face said man. “I mean…”

You appraise him quickly, eyes immediately catching on the jut of his cheekbones that accentuate his jaw and small mouth. His hair looks soft, curling lightly at the ends, and his eyes seem warm, homey. Is it weird that that’s your immediate thought? It’s probably weird.

“Can I… uh, help you?” You ask cautiously, hoping you haven’t caught the attention of some creep. Your heart pounds a little nervously in your chest. You’ve never dealt with these things before! What if – what if he really is a creep? Or a stalker? What if he looks pretty but isn’t really, on the inside? What if he chats you up and kills you when you least suspect it? What if—

“I was wondering if this belongs to you?”

…what?

Narrowing your eyes, you take a look at what he’s holding in between the fingers of his outstretched hand. A glossy card, of sorts…

You lean over a little more, squinting hard at it – and then your eyes fly wide open.

That’s your old ID.

Your school ID, with the hideous picture printed out so clearly on the tin. Your old ID, which you’re pretty sure you lost for good. Your old ID…which you lost on That day.

The sudden rush of sadness that sweeps through you nearly sends you into a full-bodied shudder, but you thankfully manage to stop yourself from doing just that. Your mouth, though, still quirks downwards of its own volition and it’s only the knowledge that the man’s still patiently holding out the card for you that keeps you from your impending breakdown.

“So… is that a yes?” He tries hopefully, smiling awkwardly at you. God, he’s got such a pretty smile.

You mentally smack yourself. Back at it again with the weird thoughts, huh brain?

“Um, yeah, it is.” You carefully take your card back, wincing at the grainy picture of your freshman self. Yep, it’s just as ugly as you remembered. “Thanks! How… did you find this?”

There’s something odd about the way he looks at you, and it has your breath stuttering, hands beginning to clam up. “Well, someone bumped into me when I was on my way to work, and nearly bowled me over, when I saw your ID on the ground. I don’t think you noticed, since you seemed like you were in a rush.”

Oh. Oh god.

“How embarrassing.” You groan, unable to help the raging flush that begins to work its way over your face. “God, I’m so sorry – thanks for holding onto it for so long! It’s been – what, four or five days since then?”

The man laughs and, you know you’re being weird, but you stare anyway. He looks weirdly right, laughing like this. Like this is what he’s meant to be doing. And he has a really funny laugh – and a really loud one too, gosh, is everyone staring at the both of you now?

I DON’T KNOW THIS MAN. You try to telepathically project, but you don’t think it works. People continue to give the two of you an odd look, every now and then.

Well, it was worth a shot, even if it didn’t work. But now, you need to find a way to politely excuse yourself from this conversation and yeet out of here.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. I don’t know why I’ve held onto it for so long either – I should’ve probably gone to a police station instead? I don’t really know how all of those things work.” The man rambles on, waving his hands rather expressively. “But man, you were really in a rush that day! I called out to you and everything, but you still didn’t notice – which is pretty impressive, people tell me my voice can be really loud when I want it to be.”

Whoever told you that isn’t wrong, you think wryly to yourself, before you pause and rewind. Wait. Hold up. He said he called out for you that day?

Could he be…?

Then, you chance a glance at him as he continues to steamroller through the rest of his monologue, mentally shaking your head. Nah. There’s no way your soulmate could be this kind of dork.

“—and quite frankly, I wasn’t really having the best day either, since I somehow managed to find my soulmate and lose them simultaneously within a minute.” He shakes his head ruefully, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “So I guess I wasn’t thinking all too clearly—”

“Wait, you said you missed your soulmate?” You blurt out, deciding it would be appropriate to interrupt him. Your heart’s beating painfully loudly in your ears, threatening to wash out the rest of the world entirely, save for the weird dude who’s looking so quizzically at you.

“Sorry, I’m probably overstepping, aren’t I—?”

“Could you touch me?” You blurt out.

And then —

You freeze.

He freezes.

The both of you freeze.

You briefly wonder if you can dig a hole for yourself with a straw. Sure, it seems impossible, but so did the idea that you’d be able to make a bigger fool of yourself than usual. Never say never, right?

“E-Excuse me?” His ears begin to turn red and he smiles a little hysterically at you.

You probably look a little hysterical too, you figure, so you can forgive him that. You certainly feel that way.

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” You rush to explain, hating yourself for tripping over your words like this. “It’s just – I just wanted you to hold my hand?”

Yeah, because that sounds so much better.

He stares at you, smile dropping. Clearly, he’s regretting ever approaching you.

“I promise I’m not a creep, I just – need to know something.” You cast your eyes down, embarrassment overtaking your features. “I—”

“Got it.” He chuckles lightly, holding out a hand; and there’s something strange in his eyes now, almost like hope. His smile’s back, unwavering, and you might stare at it a little dopily for a while before you finally see his outstretched palm. “You can touch, if you’d like.”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, slowly reaching out your hand, fingers almost brushing against his palm—

“Order for __________!” You startle at the sound of your name, fingers jerking back. You meet his eyes apologetically, quickly turning to grab your coffees, balancing the holders precariously in your hands.

“Sorry about that.” You say downcast. Hands now occupied, there’s absolutely no way you’re going to be able to touch him.

“It’s alright.” He shakes his head with a softer curve to his mouth, before steadily flushing. “Do you – could I maybe touch you? Maybe?”

Ignoring the fact that he’s just used ‘maybe’ twice in a row, you feel your throat tighten. Unable to verbalize a response, you just nod, heart flying up to your throat.

Slowly, he reaches out a hand, carefully brushing his fingers over the bare skin of your shoulder, and then—

The world dims, falling away. All you can see – all you can feel – is his hand, the warmth of his slender fingers as they press gently against your skin.

“It really is you.” His voice swims over the roaring in your ears and everything’s perfect, you actually found him and then—

There’s a splash, and searing heat along the hem of your trousers.

You gasp as he yelps, staring in mortification at the toppled cups of coffee, with most of the drink having splashed over your pants.

Of course. Of course. Of course!!!

Your hands just couldn’t hold on for two seconds, could they?

“Are you okay?” His voice sounds out hurriedly as he rushes to get you some napkins. Quickly making his way back, he dabs at your arm, making you blink dazedly. You didn’t realize some splashed on your arm, too. “Oh my god, I wasn’t thinking when I just went and touched you like that.”

You don’t move, don’t say anything, eyes entirely fixated on the soft curls of his rosy hair, tracking over the pinking flesh of his sloped neck.

“You’re pink.” You finally manage to say dumbly. “You – you’re pink.”

“I guess I am.” He agrees with a little laugh, crouching down to the floor to continue to press his napkins to your clothes – and it’s only then that your body propels into motion. You drop down beside him quickly, refuting when he protests, saying you can do it yourself. It’s your mistake, after all.

And, while mortification eats at you, you can hardly even notice it over your elation.

You’ve found him. You’ve found him. You’ve finally found him.

“I can’t believe it.” You say quietly, ignoring the fact that the two of you should probably move aside to someplace more private instead of hindering the rest of the customers. You’re far too exalted, caught up in your head from the waves of pink that layer everything you lay your eyes on – except, this time, there’s someone who’s seeing this with you.

And that makes something bright and beautiful just bloom in your chest.

The smile he gives you only makes it unfurl; sweet and gentle, just like him.

“Neither can I.” He pats your shoulder, a tiny laugh erupting from his throat – but it rings around your mind, full and rich. “Let’s take this outside, alright?”

“Right.” You nod quickly, clambering to your feet with an apologetic smile at one of the baristas who’s waiting patiently to mop up the mess. “Sorry about that.”

He frowns at the remains of your coffee, taking a quick sip from his own cup – when did he even get that? – and seeming to arrive at some kind of decision.

“I’ll re-order for you.” He nods decisively, making you turn to him, flustered.

“You don’t have to do that!”

“I want to.” He shrugs. “It was half my fault this happened anyway, so it’s on me.”

“There’s a lot of orders.” You say warningly.

He shrugs again, like it’s habitual. “I have a lot of money.”

Oh wow. From anyone else, those words would sound cocky, but he says it matter-of-factly because that’s exactly what it is. A fact.

Is it weird you find that attractive?

“If you say so.” You murmur, ducking your head down as you hand the slip of paper to him. “Thanks.”

“Aw, are you shy?” He teases, making your head shoot up. “That’s alright, I—”

He pauses, brows furrowing when he reads the slip. You uncertainly reach out a hand to take it back, figuring he’s probably changed his mind, but he just shakes his head.

“Do you…” He shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you currently working at someplace nearby?”

“Oh, yeah, at Kim Entertainment.” You say happily, not minding parting with this information since he’s – y’know – your soulmate. Oh god, you’ve actually done it, you’ve found your soulmate. “I just started interning there at the beginning of the week. It’s actually why I was in such a rush when we first met!”

“Oh. Huh.” He mutters something else under his breath that you can’t quite catch, and still has that strange look on his face. “I see.”

You bite your lip. “Is something wrong?”

He looks up quickly, evidently startled. “What? No, of course not! I was just surprised, that’s all – let’s get those coffees, yeah?”

“Sounds good.” You beam at him, before your smile drops. “Wait, I don’t know your name!”

“Ah.” His eyes grow wide, before he grins. “It’s Jongdae. Nice to meet you, _________.”

“How do you know my name?” You gasp in surprise as the two of you slip back into the line. “Are you – are you a stalker?”

“What? No! It was on the ID you dropped!”

When the two of you finally return to the company building, you smile at him.

“I’m glad I found you.” You say shyly. “I was – I was pretty sad because I thought I lost you.”

“I was pretty much the same way, yeah. Even took a whole week off because I couldn’t even walk the same route without remembering.” Jongdae’s smile slips a little, but he quickly shakes it off. “It’s nice to know you longed so desperately for me, though.”

“Like you weren’t the same!” You protest hotly, cheeks burning as the two of you file into the elevator. “You literally just said you were the same way!”

“Touché.” He remarks, which makes absolutely no sense, but you figure you can let this one go since he’s your soulmate and all. You admire the pretty pink patterns running along the carpeted floor as the both of you step out into the hallway.

“Right.” You snort.

He only turns to stick his tongue out teasingly before he rushes up ahead – you squawk in protest and bolt after him, giggles erupting from your lips as you let yourself enjoy the moment.

Then you hear his voice.

“I’m baaack~!” He sings, loudly and perfectly in tune. “Did you guys miss me?”

“No!” That’s Brian’s – Mr. Kang’s – voice, you realize. And then stop short.

Hold on.

You never even questioned why Jongdae strutted into the building like he owned the place, too caught up in your conversation and the elation at finally finding your soulmate. Now, though, as you listen to them squabble, you’re struck with slow-forming realization.

It can’t be…

“________! Where are you?” That’s Jongdae’s voice and you realize, slowly, that he knew. So that’s why he was so stumped by your coffee order – it’s because he’s clearly seen it before.

“Right here.” You say dryly, shooting your amused soulmate a deadened look. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

“Hey, none of that!” The shy, cute stranger is now gone, replaced by this smirking little tease. Oh god, you can’t believe you fell for his cutesy act, you could hit yourself.

“You two know each other, Boss?” Brian asks curiously from his desk, eyes flitting between the two of you. Jae blinks, not moving from his perch on Brian’s desk.

Jongdae grins broadly, teeth showing, and you already know he’s going to say something like—

“’Course we do! She’s my soulmate!”

And there’s so much the two of you need to talk about, so much you still need to discuss now that you know he’s your Boss and soulmate, but... that’s alright, you figure. Maybe it’s the soft rose that shades his profile, casting a soft glow over everything you see – or maybe the way your colleagues’ jaws drop – but, you think to yourself, this soulmate thing might be a whole lot better than you thought it would.

Jongdae turns to grin at you, clearly proud of himself – and the sight of it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, giddiness overtaking you at how soft the world seems to be, now that you’ve found him. You never thought you’d get your second chance, but now that you have…

It’s all so worth it.

As the cold, icy season has come to melt, The spring days I awaited bloom once again.

- Kim Jongdae, April and a Flower

Written By: Midnight!

[kastlenetwork]

Forgive me if you're getting this Ask twice-- I couldn't tell if it went through the first time. Thank you for agreeing to help me! I am a grad student working on a literacy learning project in which I need to immerse myself in a form of literacy that I do not have experience in. I am a reader of fanfiction and a huge fan of Kastle, so I decided that I would write my own Kastle fanfic. Would you and the Kastle community share with me what you as readers typically look for in a Kastle fanfic?

The first one did send through, but it’s totally okily dokily! I would also like to preface this by saying I was just sat here and I’d answered with this with an actually not horrific response and then my laptop died out of absolutely nowhere, :) without warning :) [which happens all the time, because my computer is dying in general, but still I’m miserable about the loss lololol anyway] – so, this one isn’t as well thought out.

I’m just gonna say that the main thing that I look for in Kastle fanfiction is close to canon characterization. We’re all different people with different eyes and ears and brains, so when we watch the show, obviously different things might stand out or feel more prominent in who they are, than other things to other people. So, I’m not bothered by different headcannons or anything like that. I mean, it’s fanfiction, that’s the point – I’m reading it to read that writers’ take and have a good time……or a bad time, depending on if the writer is trying to squeeze out hearts lolol. But, there’s a general base line for who the characters are that has to be met for me to really get attached to what I’m reading. I’m this way for any fanfiction for any couple, to be honest. But, it’s super prominent when dealing with Karen and Frank, for whatever reason. If they stray too far away – their characterization, their vibe, their dialogue – I start to slowly check out of what I’m reading. I might just flat out stop. And if they’re in a Different Scenario where one doesn’t want to focus too heavily on the heavy, how that’s adjusted to fit the more lighthearted piece.

I mean, take Frank for example. If I open a fic and he spends the entire thing absolutely miserable with no small bright spots, at all, that’s just as off-putting to me as him being some weird happy sunshine man. Because, Jon’s Frank Castle (and that’s all I can go on on Frank, at all, honestly. I’ve never read a TP or DD comic lol whoops) finds things amusing. I mean, he’s literally lying in a bed having a deal worked out for him to go to prison in Gen. Pop. and he’s making jokes about it. Karen’s screaming out at him that refusing to cooperate with her and his lawyers, so that they can help him, will do nothing but result in him failing to get answers to about his family and have him rotting in a cell. And his immediate response could be more misery and more doom and gloom, but instead he’s turned on impressed and amused by Karen’s outburst. He admires the blunt and fearless goddess before him the honesty and the blowup and he teases her choice of wording. He’s light in a moment where she literally just said the results of his actions might be that he never learns the truth and he’s taking delight in her explosion despite it. 

Yes, he’s angry. He’s violent. He’s depressed. But, sometimes he talks about his family and he’s smiling. He’s laughing. Does it more than likely melt back into his ever present grief? Absolutely. But, it doesn’t mean that show of levity isn’t there. And Karen’s character and characterization faces a similar path in the show, just in the flipped direction. The core of her is built around something traumatic and sorrowful, but her general demeanor is positive and determined. 

Frank is funny. Karen is funny. Frank is sad. Karen is sad. 

They’re feeling a lot of things at various times.

So, the main thing I look for in Kastle fic is the appropriate balance of that. If I feel like it’s too far off the mark, I more than likely won’t finish it. 

The second thing I look for ties directly into the main thing, which is simply the dialogue. How they talk to each other. Especially once it’s starts bleeding further into the actual romance aspect of the story and not just the build up. Frank’s not adverse to endearment – he’s obviously someone that cares EXTREMELY DEEPLY for those he loves. (To the detriment to the gangs of New York). And we’ve seen him call Leo “sweetie” and stuff, this sweet little girl that he gets a big soft spot for. But, we’ve also seen him talk about his wife on multiple occasions and give big romantic speeches about his wife, like when he and Karen were on a date sitting in the diner. He calls her “my old lady” and he says he would literally chop his arm off at the table if he could just have another moment with her and feel what he thinks Karen must feel for Matt (*coughs* k sure, Frank) and it’s all really depressing ‘cause he’s destroyed, but he and Karen are on their date wow what a date sitting there and he’s talking about love and it’s just such a good moment. 

He’s not gonna call Karen the things he called his wife, obviously, unless they’re general terms of endearment. But, I think it’s a good example of the way he talks. I look for as close to canon characterization on the way they speak. Like, if Frank starts calling Karen his “beloved” it’s suddenly not Frank anymore – it’s some guy who happens to be as hot, but there’s been a mind swap or something. If Karen’s calling Frank “sugar plum” I’m kind of scratching my head, because who’s that blonde lady that’s suddenly speaking, what’s going on?

And I think the final thing I look for is simply that Karen is given more agency in terms of the relationship they’ve got. Because, in TP1 and TP2, it’s very much Karen who’s standing there with her arms flung open going, “I want you to be in love with me, like I know you are! I see you pushing it away! I am in love with you! You are allowed to love and have a life! Have a life with me!!!!!” And then Frank basically trying to push her back to Matt for literally no reason. I think a part of this is just Frank himself in his constant sabotage mode, because that’s his entire life after his whole family was murdered. He’s on destruction path, even when he’s trying, in moments, to get out of it. But, I ALSO think part of it is just that they didn’t have Karen for the full season, either season, and, even before they knew Marvel Netflix was heading to the grave, the shows refused to appropriately connect and were instead taking the ’’’easier’’’ path. Because, it was made pretty clear that they’d put her in the whole show if they could, but only could get her for so much time, and they wrote for that time.

So, in fic, I look for Karen getting to have her feelings actually be on display, instead of just being there to bounce his feelings off of, because they didn’t have her for enough time in either season to go more deeper on her end, since she wasn’t actually their character. And for her to get to have more agency in what’s going down with all that wanting them to be in love stuff just feels crucial to me, at this point, seeing as Marvel refuses to just make my dreams come true and announce that they gave a shit about these shows and are bringing them into the fold with the same casts.

Other than those two things, which I consider to be fairly standard, and that one thing where it’s just my exhaustion with my girls always having to fix everything – I’m pretty open to anything in terms of actual story. (I’ll even read a pregnancy/baby fic if it’s well written – and I’m…adverse to fanfic about babies). I just want an appropriate balance of their individual traumas to the sass master’s that live inside them and appropriate dialogue to who they are as people.

(I’ve got a whole thing about what I look for in a fanfic in general, but it’s not specific to Karen and Frank – it’s just like….spaces and pacing, which doesn’t have much to do with this.)

\\\\

What do you all look for in Kastle fic?! Help @chaiteacookiesnglitter out and reblog this and put in your two cents about what you’re inherently looking for. :DDD

[seriouslyhooked]

The Same Soul (Part 2)

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. Chapter 1 Here.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! So thank you so much for your initial positivity and excitement about the fic. It’s inspired me to engage with this AU in a way I wasn’t planning originally, and I am so excited to keep writing and exploring this story. That being said, I’m delayed in posting because I had actually written a few more chapters of this fic and then my hard drive on my laptop decided to die. I lost the work, but not the commitment to this story or the idea of where things could go next. As such, this is take two of me trying to write this second chapter, and it actually takes place in the past. I want to explore not only the story of Emma and Killian finding each other again, but the story of how they first found each other too. This chapter is from Emma’s POV again, but rest assured we will be getting Killian’s eventually too. So, with that being said, I really hope you enjoy and I would LOVE to hear what you think. Thanks so much for reading!

Twelve Years Earlier

“And that, ladies, is how you make a personal, one-of-a-kind needlepoint pillow!”

The excitement that those words were said with was almost hard to fathom. In all her life, Emma had never met someone who would get so excited about crafting, never mind in a style that was so out dated, but she couldn’t help but smile at Mrs. Hubbard. Their activities director here in the arts and craft barn was a sweet older woman and she was the only person at this camp that Emma felt really cared about any of them. All of the other adults here either looked at camp as a job, or were alumni themselves and thus were convinced that a summer at Camp Pinewood was the most glorious and glamorous thing a girl of sixteen could partake in. It was an elite, invitation only camp, and only the best families in the area could even consider sending their girls here.

That mentality was understandably off-putting to Emma, since she was hardly glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. She was a foster kid, had been since infancy, and in the past sixteen years she’d been in nearly 20 different homes or facilities. When she was still little, it was mostly family placements, and a few had even been promising, allowing Emma to really believe she may someday find a real family to call her own. But they never worked out in the end, and for the past ten years Emma had been relegated to mostly group homes, all of which were noisy and cramped and stressful. The most recent one was the worst she’d been in yet, but it did have one benefit – an eccentric wealthy benefactress who provided a scholarship for any girl with good grades to come out here to Pinewood for the summer.

At first Emma had thought that offer was so stupid. Who would want a scholarship for camp? As a kid in the system there were about a thousand things she needed before she needed a summer trip to one of the richest neighborhoods in the country, but after a few weeks in her boisterous and bustling group home in the heart of the city, Emma was desperate for a summer away from the noise and the active dislike of her fellow lost girls. Emma didn’t fit in with the other foster kids she’d come in contact with, having been written off as uppity even though she wasn’t. At first, some of the girl’s who were staples at her group home had thought to pick on her, but everyone had largely stopped messing with her after Emma responded to a fight with a defensive skill none of them were expecting. She didn’t like to get physical, but Emma could hold her own, and she wasn’t about to let anyone mess with her when she’d done nothing to provoke it. But despite showing that she was strong and capable, the others still iced her out, making sure Emma knew that she was neither wanted nor accepted in any way.  She was a certified loner, and though that sad fact seemed to be transferring to this camp too, at least Emma had space and fresh air and some peace and quiet to go along with her loneliness.

Camp Pinewood was, according to everyone both running and attending the camp, the most exclusive summer commitment a girl could have. It ran only during the day, because it seemed that hanging too far in the woods overnight was a line a majority of these girls would never cross, but it boasted all kinds of famous alumni. There were politicians, judges, even a few actresses and other famous faces. But to Emma the exclusive club part felt more than a little out of reach. She highly doubted that her past was going to be completely washed away by rubbing shoulders with a bunch of American heiresses. No one had actually asked about her situation, and she didn’t think any of them realized she was here on scholarship from the woman whose family had originally gifted this town with the land the camp resided on, but they also knew she wasn’t one of them, and there was nothing worse to rich people than a lack of status. Most girls had come here with built in friends and enemies, and while they went about their business, Emma just observed, taking in how foreign a way of life this was before returning each night to her home for the summer – a small bedroom in the staff house at the estate of the woman who’d granted her the scholarship.

Emma still hadn’t met the unconventional old woman who made this summer away possible, and she doubted she would at any point this trip, especially since it seemed no other girl from her group home had ever actually qualified for this scholarship. Emma was the first ever to take them up on their generosity and it showed. There were surprisingly few rules for a sixteen-year-old ward of the state, and very little in the ways of entertainment for one. The housekeeper, Mrs. Dearly, had simply told Emma three things: breakfast was at eight each morning, dinner was at six thirty in the evening, and she was not to have any boys on the property. After that thirty second introduction, Emma had been shown her bedroom and pretty much left to her own devices. She saw Mrs. Dearly at meal times, but the woman was always so busy with running the estate along with her husband, that there was never much in the way of reciprocal conversation. Emma didn’t mind too much though. She’d rather have the distance between them all. It was a hopeless dream to think she could stay here when the summer was over, and if they were nicer it would be harder to keep her guard up from what would undoubtedly be substantial disappointment.

“Now I know what you’re all thinking,” Mrs. Hubbard continued, cutting through Emma’s unhappy thoughts and pulling her back to the activity at hand. “You are wondering who you should give such a thoughtful gift to.  Now sure, these pillows are great to keep, and there are any number of people you could gift them too, but a good choice might be a special someone in your life. I know a few of you have boys you’re sweet on, and any good beau would love a pillow like this!”

Emma bit back a wince at the thought of sharing this terrible pillow with anyone. She had absolutely no artistic ability, and while she’d been able to follow the structural instructions well, creating a strong and sturdy pillow, her needlework left a lot to be desired. She’d been trying to make a dog, but if she had to choose a mammal that it looked most like she’d say it was an elephant. Well, an elephant if elephants were kind of weirdly wobbly along the back and had some legs that were longer than the others. Okay, fine, she had, at best, created an amoeba like shape, but still she wouldn’t cut into Mrs. H’s enthusiasm. The woman was so nice that Emma didn’t have the heart to tell her that even if this was a fantastic pillow it would still be weird to give to a guy. Boys her age didn’t want handmade and carefully stitched decorative pieces, and honestly, Emma struggled to think that there had ever been a man in any time or place who would welcome such a gift as a sign of affection.

“Jesus is she crazy?” One of the ruder campers in the back asked in a harsh whisper. Emma made a point not to ruffle feathers, especially in a new place, but there had been a number of times where this girl in particular, Catherine Parker, had tested that strength. “I know she’s practically prehistoric, but she doesn’t really think we’d give these to anyone does she? Talk about delusional.”

“Yeah, totally nutso,” one girl responded.

“Seriously disturbed,” another agreed.

“I don’t even know why she still works here to be honest. I mean I know she’s been here forever, but at some point we’ve got to bury the fossils, you know?”

Emma couldn’t help the eye roll that escaped as she listened to this ridiculously ageist and asinine commentary, but she made sure to let it loose when Mrs. H was looking elsewhere. She didn’t want their instructor to think this was aimed at her or her ideas, because no matter how out there they were, Emma still appreciated them. All of Mrs. Hubbard’s suggestions came from a good place, and Emma would never disrespect that when she knew how rare it was for adults to really try their best to do right by kids their age. Luckily, before her peers could say anything else that Mrs. H might hear, the camp bell rang, alerting them all that this particular class was over and that the day at camp was now done with it. It being Friday, Emma knew that most of these girls were off to extravagant ‘barbecues’ (AKA what rich people called fancy parties as long as they were outside during the summer) or beach-side soirees until Monday came, but Emma would just be hanging around. Maybe she’d take a real walk around the town, or head to the public ocean access (which was still nice, but too pedestrian for the rich girls at this camp apparently), but whatever she ended up doing, Emma knew it would be a solo adventure, just as all of her outings tended to be.

The rest of the girls practically sprinted from the room and to the parking lot where their drivers awaited them. It was a mad scramble to get out of here each day, since no one ever seemed to carpool (honestly, even pitching the idea would probably make Emma a social pariah), but Emma wasn’t in the same rush as them. She’d be walking the back trail to the estate, which was directly adjacent to the camp property. She had no strict curfew and no place to be, and she planned to make her fifteen-minute walk back leisurely and relaxing. Emma wanted to enjoy the summer heat and the sun a little more. This wasn’t a forever place for her, and come the fall when she was headed back to school, she wanted to be sure she’d soaked as much of it in as she could.

“Thanks for the lesson, Mrs. H,” Emma said by way of goodbye, and she was taken aback again by the fact that this woman always appeared shocked when she said thank you. Sure, Emma hadn’t noticed anyone else doing the same when a class ended, despite their ‘good breeding’ and etiquette lessons, but still, it was basic politeness.

“You’re very welcome, my dear. Any fun weekend plans?” Emma shook her head at the question and Mrs. H only offered a smile instead of anything like pity, which Emma appreciated. “Well good things have a way of finding us in their time. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself, Emma. See you next week, all right?”

Emma agreed and headed out, finding the path towards her summer quarters with ease, and setting out on the solitary journey. It was quiet out here, but also not at all. The ambient hum of the natural world was so different to anything Emma ever experienced back in the city. The birds, the bugs, and the breeze all played a musical part in their own way as the sun filtered in through the canopy above. This forest was bursting with life, and some smaller animals filtered in and out her path. If she pushed away reality for a little bit, Emma could almost pretend she had a completely different life. Out here, in the mostly untouched woods, she could be part of a totally separate world, one with knights and pirates, kings and queens, or whatever else she wished. This could be a journey through the past or a jaunt into the fairytales she’d secretly loved as a kid. It was the kind of place her imagination could go wild, and after spending so many years just trying to survive, it was amazing to have the space to just dream of new places and new adventures to embark on.

In the midst of these daydreams, however, a noise sounded out in the woods around her that startled Emma. It sounded like something was running in her direction, something big. She heard the crunching the earth below as feet pounded on the ground, and a foreboding rustling through bushes. Emma had very little time to prepare for what it could be, and her first thought was that maybe it was a bear or something. She didn’t think they were very common around these parts, but what did she know? Yet no sooner had she really begun to edge towards panic, than the culprit behind her worry came into the light. It was a dog in the end, granted a really big dog (she hadn’t been so far off with the bear guess in terms of size), but one that was friendly if the wagging tale and huge doggy smile were anything to go off of.

“Hey there, buddy. Aren’t you cute?” Emma asked and this seemed to make the dog even happier. It came lumbering towards her, pressing its head into her side and Emma laughed, crouching down to give the dog some love.

She’d always adored dogs ever since she was a little girl, and though she never spoke these wishes out loud, a dog was absolutely part of her dream for a family and a home. Kids in the system weren’t allowed pets, but Emma knew that they should be given them. Animals could go a long way in making life less lonely. But instead of dwelling on that, Emma just enjoyed this fleeting moment with… she looked at the collar on this big beautiful brown beast, but there was no tag and no name she could read.

“Are you lost, girl?” Emma asked and unwillingly her hope began to rise. Maybe this dog needed a home too, but just as she asked, she heard sharp whistle and a voice sounding out further in the woods.

“Missy! Here, girl!”

“So not lost, just hiding, huh Missy?” The dog barked happily and Emma couldn’t help smiling, even if she was a little sad at the fact that this dog would have to go soon. She was just so cute and affectionate, and Emma was so pulled in that she must have missed the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Oh thank God, you found her. She’s not usually a runner but she took off and…”

The stranger’s words faded away, and Emma turned to look at who had said them. When she did her heart clutched in her chest. Holy cow this guy was cute, and Emma had simply not been expecting it. Her brain hadn’t gone so far as to sketch out what she thought Missy’s owner would look like, but even if it had, she never could have made this. His hair was dark, and he was taller than her and maybe a year or two older. He looked strong and capable, carrying himself with a confidence that was quiet but pronounced, and Emma’s eyes moved across his chest to his arms which were muscled, tone, and tan from the start of summer. As Emma took him in, she couldn’t help thinking he was beautiful and far more handsome than any boy she’d ever met. Hell, maybe she was still dreaming, and this boy wasn’t real at all. He looked like something from the pages of a storybook, a tall, dark, and handsome hero just waiting to swoop in and save the day. But while Emma felt spellbound by this man on the whole, his eyes were the thing she kept coming back to. They were the most striking about him, all intense and blue and almost magical, and currently they were looking at her with this depth of emotion Emma couldn’t understand. For whatever reason he seemed just as taken aback by her as she was of him, but she didn’t get why. Emma knew she was just ordinary, but this guy… well, he made her feel like maybe she was more all along and simply didn’t realize it.

“Uh, hi,” Emma finally said after they’d both been staring for a little longer than they should. “You must be Missy’s owner.”

“Killian, Killian Jones,” he said immediately though she hadn’t intentionally asked him to introduce himself. Then he offered his hand and Emma was surprised. People their age didn’t usually greet one another this way, but she could tell he wasn’t from here. His voice was coated by a delicious sounding accent. British maybe? Emma didn’t know. All she knew was that she liked it. A lot.

“Emma Swan.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he said, and though Emma didn’t detect any malice or artifice when he said that, her walls automatically came up again. Sweet as the words were, it was a total line, and a pretty cheesy one at that. Never mind the fact that it made the butterflies in her stomach go all kinds of crazy to be called beautiful by a boy like him. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to get to know a player, and he was probably a big one based on this game he was throwing her way.

“Right. Well I’m gonna go. See ya, Missy,” she said before pivoting in the direction of the estate.

“Wait!” 

The word from Killian was desperate, and it halted Emma in her tracks. She looked back at him and she could see his regret all over his face, and she couldn’t explain why, but she found it really endearing. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t ashamed of how much he felt. He was completely open, and Emma found that comforting in ways she never expected. As someone who was so rarely candid with her feelings, Emma saw his bravery in being so and yearned for the courage to be that way too. 

“I’m sorry about that, I know that was bad. I mean I meant it, you are beautiful, but I know that’s a corny thing to say and, well, I just don’t usually do this. You know... this,” he said as he waved between them. He must have realized that his hand gesturing wasn’t actually an explanation of what he was thinking so he cursed and then he apologized for cursing before accidentally cursing again.

Emma watched as Killian ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up further while also signaling how flustered he was. At the sight of this nervous tic, Emma found herself smiling, and when he looked completely shocked at that, she couldn’t help but laugh. It was funny after all, because here was this guy who from one look seemed out of her league, but he was bumbling about and falling all over himself over her. Her, Emma Swan! That was just wild, but Emma found she really loved it despite her lingering hesitations.

“You’re not from here, are you Killian?”

“What gave me away?” He asked with a responding grin that made Emma’s pulse quicken.

“You mean aside from the accent and the handshake?” she joked and he nodded. “I can just tell. You’re not as put together as the people here.”

He looked stricken for a moment and Emma rushed to clarify. “I didn’t mean it like that. Not in a bad way, it’s just I spend all day at this camp with girls who are so concerned with how they look and how they act, and you’re different. It’s refreshing, I think.”

“You think?”

“Well the jury is still out after that line you laid on me.”

“God that was bad. I’ll never live that down, will I?” he asked, but Emma could sense the humor in his words as he groaned at his own badly coordinated introductions.

“Do you want to?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes,” he replied seriously. “If given the chance, I would very much like to make it up to you, Emma.”

“Okay, then prove it.”

So he did. Over the next hour or so, Killian rose to the challenge as they walked together on different paths through the woods, and Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much in her life. It turned out Killian was really charming and witty, along with being distractingly handsome, and when he wasn’t so overwhelmed with first meeting someone, he was so naturally himself. It amazed Emma how comfortable they became with each other in such a short amount of time, just talking and playing with Missy when she demanded it, but Emma realized part of the wonder of all of this was because she’d been craving this kind of connection for so long. She’d never had a friend, at least not a really good one, and though she was certainly attracted to Killian, she had to admit that she also liked him for more than his looks. He had a great sense of humor, and they sparred verbally more than once, making Emma feel not only like someone understood her, but that they really saw who she was when so few people ever had.

“I hope you won’t think this is a line, Emma,” Killian said after they’d had a solid laugh at a story Killian told her about him and his brother getting in trouble when they were kids. “But I have to say that even though we’ve only just met, I feel like I’ve known you a long time.”

“It’s like we’re kindred spirits,” Emma said in agreement, quoting one of her favorite stories and then realizing Killian probably didn’t get the reference. “It’s from a book -,”

“Aye, Anne of Green Gables,” Killian filled in and Emma was surprised, and her shock only seemed to amuse Killian. “My Mum read it to us when we were kids. It was one of her favorites.”

A quiet moment fell between them, and though Killian didn’t say anything else, Emma could tell that conversation about his mother was in some ways painful to him. Emma would never pry, but she found that she really wanted to know what it was that Killian was going through. If she could help in any way she would, but she didn’t want to push him. Emma knew first-hand how hard it was to talk about the scars that she carried, and nothing hurt worse than being forced to revisit bad times because someone else demanded it.

They sat there quietly for a little bit, and though Emma kept expecting an awkwardness to descend upon them, it never came. It was nice to have someone there, even if they weren’t talking, and Emma hoped Killian felt the same way. He said as much a few minutes later, and Emma was thrilled to know that he agreed with her assessment, but unfortunately she couldn’t linger in this new found connection for much longer. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, and soon enough it would be dinner time at the estate. She didn’t really know what would happen if she missed the meal, but she thought it best not to find out, especially so early in the summer. 

When she broke the sad news that she should be heading back, Killian offered to walk her, and though she told him he didn’t have to, Emma didn’t fight him when he insisted. His determination to see her home safely made her feel special and important, and Emma knew that despite a bumpy first impression, Killian was a really remarkable person. No one had ever been this thoughtful towards her or had shown her this kind of attention, and instead of running like she normally would when someone tried to get close to her, she decided to give Killian a chance, no matter what hurt may come of it in the future. The only problem was that their walk back was over too soon, and Emma found herself wishing she had some way to make this moment last longer or to ensure that they could somehow see each other again.

By the time they arrived at the gate outside the staff house, Emma was still struggling to find something to say. From here she could see the window to her room and the many others in this large house. But ultimately her hands were tied. She couldn’t invite Killian in; that was like the one rule here, and it was one she couldn’t break and expect to stay. She also couldn’t ask him for his number because she didn’t have a phone and she was terrified he’d ask her why, prompting her to have to tell him about who she really was and what her life was really like. Damn it! Why did this have to be so hard?

“What’s your opinion on fairs?” Killian asked randomly, and Emma raised a brow even while the corners of her mouth began to curl upwards. 

“Fairs? Like with the games and fried food and Ferris wheels?” She asked and he nodded. “Well I don’t know, really. I’ve never actually been to one.”

“Never?” he asked, but before Emma could grow uncomfortable with her admission he pivoted, as if he could read her discomfort and wanted to ease it. “Well I haven’t been to one in a long time, and never in the States. But I was walking around town earlier, and I heard some people talking about one that will be here this weekend. I thought maybe you’d like to go.”

“With you?” Emma asked and Killian cleared his throat before nodding.

“Aye, with me,” he said and Emma nearly sighed at the way his words washed over her with that dreamy accent of his. Still, she took a moment to consider. 

This felt like a really big deal. Emma was so used to being alone and she’d built up defenses against other people so that she didn’t get attached. Seeing Killian again would put those boundaries up at risk, but even now Emma knew he’d made an impact. In fact, he’d created such a good memory in her life just from their meeting today that she didn’t think she’d ever forget him. And as for her instincts, which she had always trusted, they were screaming at her to say yes, because if she didn’t she’d always wonder what-if, and she didn’t want to wonder. For once, Emma wanted to know what it was like to invest in someone else, and to live a little instead of just surviving, and she felt like Killian was a person she could trust enough to try and do so.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

His responding smile was so bright and animated that Emma almost couldn’t take it. She tried shifting her stance a bit to try and cover up some of her own excitement, but Missy had crept up on her while Killian had been asking about the fair, and in order to avoid stepping on her paws, Emma jolted the other way. Unfortunately, Emma’s sense of coordination caught up with her actions too late, and she stumbled more than a little bit. It would have been mortifying, but Killian’s hands came to steady her, pulling her towards him as they did, and Emma felt warmth and electricity springing through her. Her eyes flew up to his and she saw the undeniable look of yearning in his cerulean gaze, and without any words said between them she knew that he felt this too. He was just as affected by this as she was, and it felt like magic. She swallowed harshly, barely breathing, but not daring to move at the risk of breaking the spell that swirled around them.

“Careful, love,” Killian whispered with a gentle sweetness and a hint of swagger that left his blue eyes sparkling. “We’ve a date tomorrow, and I need you in top shape. It would be a shame to miss anything when it’ll be your first time.”

“So it is a date?” Emma blurted out.

She felt her cheeks flush when she realized what she’d asked aloud, but Killian only smiled before he boldly brought his hand up to brush against the place where her blush colored her freckled skin. His fingertips lingered for only a few seconds before curling a lock of her hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Emma shivered at the gentle caress, and her lips parted ever so slightly. Jesus, how was this possible? Sometimes he was flustered and a little clumsy in his manners, but Killian could also be this composed and seriously sexy figure. She felt like her heart would fly straight out of her chest it was hammering so harshly, but he was totally in control and confident almost to a cocky degree. It was maddening and dizzying, but also filled Emma with a thrill that she adored and wanted more of.

“Aye, love. It’s a date. Can I pick you up here, say seven o’clock?” 

Emma nodded, and though words failed her for a moment, she knew her smile must say it all to him so clearly. She was excited, more excited than she had ever been, and that outweighed all the nerves she had from this being an actual date. She’d never actually been on a date before and she was terrified in some ways. But for whatever reason, she knew that it was worth facing the fear. Whatever happened, Killian would see her through, and though it defied rationality and logic, Emma held close to that fact she just knew to be true. 

“I guess I should go in,” Emma hedged and though she could see the little flecks of regret in his eyes, Killian nodded. He stepped back, removing his hands from her body and leaving her missing the sensation of having his skin on hers. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, and Emma smiled, delighted at the promise at all that was to come.

As she walked back to her summer home, Emma appreciated that neither of them actually said the word “goodbye,” because she hated to think this was over. In her lifetime, Emma had experienced too many goodbyes. People always seemed to leave her, and though she’d largely hardened herself from the pain of those farewells, Emma didn’t think it would be so easy with someone like Killian. He sparked something in her, something that had been dormant for maybe all her life, and if he left she worried that spark would leave with him. Even as she headed through the wrought iron gate and towards the house, Emma wished they didn’t need to wait until tomorrow to be together again, and she couldn’t help pausing at the door and stealing another look at him. He was still there with Missy, as she knew he would be, waiting to see her safely inside, his gaze never having left her though he could have already headed home. In that moment, Emma knew he was choosing her, putting her first, and making her feel like she was the most precious thing to him. That was huge and heavy for having just met someone, but Killian was right before – it didn’t feel like they’d only just connected. To Emma it felt like this was always meant to be, and like she’d been unknowingly waiting for this all her short but lonely life.

Post-Note: So there we have it. As I mentioned, I had actually written a version of this chapter before and I am so bummed that I lost it when my computer glitched out. But that being said, I feel like this version still accomplishes what I wanted. I really wanted you all to see what Emma’s life has been like and what her situation is before meeting Killian, because it will certainly change now that fate has brought them together. That being said, next chapter will definitely be from Killian’s POV so we can get some of his story too. Not sure when that will be posted, but doing my best to keep my muse chatty and engaged. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I hope you’ll all let me know what you think!!

[safflowerseason]

Since you are in a question answering mood, I won’t feel like a pest: do you think Amy is her parents’ favorite child? What do you think Dan’s relationship is like with his parents and sibling(s) since we never see them? Do you think his parents got divorced or just had one of those cold “don’t talk to one another” marriages? Something must have messed him up. And are we getting a fic update any time soon?

No one ever has to feel like a pest for sending in questions, especially not when I ask for them! 💙

Is Amy her parent’s favorite child?

I think I might go out on a limb here and say that Amy is her parent’s favorite child, they just had no idea what to do with her, with her intensity and her ambition and her not-exactly-traditionally-feminine passion for politics and power. Over time, that lack of understanding impeded their ability to effectively communicate…although I don’t think the Brookheimers were big on communication anyway. At the very least, it seems they had a very hands-off approach to Sophie and Amy’s relationship, which I think is ultimately was the real source of discord in the Brookheimer household. Sophie obviously hates Amy (and it’s not exactly hard to guess why), and it seems as though she was always allowed to treat her younger sister like trash without fear of real retribution. To me, that’s their original sin as parents.

Dan’s family

Hmmm…we’re given so few hints about them, and the range of human personality development being what it is…you can fill in the blanks quite a lot of ways. Mandel contrives to give us the impression that Dan never sees or thinks about his family, in keeping with his vision of Dan as a memory-impaired sex addict. But as usual with Mandel’s version of Veep, I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.

Personally, I’ve always pictured Dan as the youngest, and I like to think of him with two siblings, a brother and a sister. Based on the fact that Dan's alluded a few times to a Catholic background, I would guess that his parents were not divorced, but instead had a marriage that was very old-school traditional and transactional in nature…Dan’s dad made the money, Dan’s mother took care of the kids and the house, and that was the deal. I would hazard a guess that Dan has no real relationship with his dad, whom he describes as “weird and distant”, but if pressed would admit to having some affection for his mother. In S1-S4, we know that Dan speaks to her semi-occasionally and that she fusses over him. Whether through her or someone else, he is also vaguely aware what’s going on with other people in his family, enough to know that someone has gotten plastic surgery. I feel like Dan and his siblings don’t often speak to one another except for family-related reasons, but when they do, they all revert back to being bicker-y teenagers around each other. 

Dan’s parents make an appearance in the next chapter of Bring Me to Light, so you will get more of a sense of how I conceive of his relationship with them. 

Fic update?

I never have a positive answer to this question, lol. The short answer is to be determined. (But I never mind people asking about updates, as long as everyone is fine with getting tbd as the response 😉) And the long answer is…Bring Me to Light chapters now take at least a month to write, for a lot of reasons. For one thing, they now average about 14000 words! (not part of the original plan, let me tell you.) Logistically, my real job involves a not-insignificant amount of writing, so…sometimes I don’t want to write in my downtime because I’ve already spent the whole day or a whole week putting new words on a page and staring at a laptop screen. Ugh, if only fic-writing were my real job. 

Also, frankly, I should spend less time on Tumblr and more time actually writing. It’s extremely seductive as a procrastination technique!