#left my caps lock on oops

[baguantte]

WAS THAT THE HALLOWEEN OF 87'?!

[drabblesandimagines]

Swingin'

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship, absolutely fluffy nonsense once again

“Stand here for me, ma’am.”

You giggle at the odd term of address as familiar hands maneuverer you forward into position by your hips, the owner of said hands stepping back in front of you when they seemed happy with your positioning.

“Now, put your left index finger on your nose.”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t seriously be making your girlfriend take a field impairment test.”

Leon crosses his arms, trademark smirk on his lips. “Oh, I’m serious, sweetheart. Left index finger – go.”

You swallow down a hiccup as you follow his order, finding your nose with ease and smile, triumphantly.

“Now with your right.”

That one doesn’t go as smooth, your finger sliding down the side and prodding yourself in the cheek before you reposition, finding it at last. “Oops.”

“Arms straight down by your sides.” You comply at once, straightening your posture as you do. “Place your left foot directly in front of your right, heel touching toes.”

That one is a little more tricky to follow, you admit, but you think you’ve nailed it after a little bit of shuffling, though your boyfriend doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Walk forward – heel to toe every step and count aloud.”

“Heel to toe…” You mutter, looking down at your feet. “One.” You swing your right leg round a bit too dramatically and your foot lands too far in front of your left but you persevere.

“Two.” Another big step forward has you throwing your arms out for balance.

“Arms straight down by your sides, sweetpea.” Leon chides.

You huff, dropping them back down and scoot your foot backward, before stepping forward with the other. “Three…”

Unfortunately, you step too far off to the right, nearly losing your balance completely before Leon steadies you with a firm grip on your elbow.

“Yep, you are 100% not riding on the back.”

“But I promise to hold on real tight.” You press your face into his chest then, wrapping your arms around his waist in demonstration and giving a firm squeeze to show off your strength.

“Not a risk I’m willing to take.” Leon wraps his arms around you in return and presses a kiss to your crown. All it would take was for you to let go around a corner and…

He shudders, can’t even bear to imagine any further. Nope, not happening.

“I’m sorry.” Your words are muffled, feeling like an annoyance. “I really didn’t think I’d drank that much.”

And you hadn’t, it had only really hit you when you’d exited the bar into the fresh air to meet Leon on the sidewalk. He’d parked his bike a block or so away from the venue and that short, stumbled walk had set alarm bells ringing.

“I’m sure you didn’t, little lightweight that you are.” He teases. “Come on, it’s not too far a walk from here anyway – might help you sober up.”

You pull your head back and look up at him, brows furrowed. “What about your bike?”

He looks at it – his prized Ducati, security lock already in place from when he left it to walk towards the bar – and shrugs. “I can get it in the morning.”

“Uh-uh,” you step back, Leon loosening his arms as you do but still keeping you close. “You take the bike and I’ll walk home. Ooh, I could jog alongside!”

Leon smiles in amusement, but shakes his head. “Not happening.”

You look down at your feet, double-checking you were in fact wearing flats and not heels when Leon doesn’t take you seriously. He’s in his military-grade boots, as usual. You’re not sure how they can be comfortable to walk in, steel-capped toes, but he never seems to complain.

“Okay, how about you wheel it home as I walk?”

“Why are you so concerned about me leaving my bike?”

“Are you kidding me? You have the worst luck with it. If you leave it here, it’ll get stolen or hit by a truck, or… struck by lightning.”

“And my insurance covers all of those.” He turns you, gently, one arm snug around your waist and encourages you to take a step forward. “Come on, let’s get home.”

You wrap an arm tentatively around his waist in return and only make it a few steps before your insecurities arise. “Leon…”

“Mm?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hip in reassurance. “Why would I be? You had fun, right?”

“Yeah, I did.” You nod, thinking back over the evening. You’d met up with your friends to catch-up over some cocktails, a rare evening where you’d all happened to be free. “It was so nice seeing them all. Tabitha’s been through two boyfriends since the last time we managed it.”

“She still dating jerks?” He frowns, familiar with her tales of dating woe.

“Sadly. Are you sure there’s no suitable guys at your work?”

“Oh, I’m one of a kind, baby,” he chuckles. “Don’t wanna set her up for disappointment.”

“Maybe this one will be diff… Ooh, look!” You point just up ahead, your attention span apparently at an all-time low. “They finally finished the renovations!”

The playpark had been taped off for a while – the equipment old and outdated and more than a little bit dangerous. You pull away from him and race through the gate, making a beeline for the swings. Leon jogs behind you, stopping a few feet in front of the swing-set and places his hands on his hips as you plonk yourself down and kick your feet against the fresh tarmac.

“I don’t think you’re the demographic they’re looking for, sweetheart.”

“Says you.” You tease, the agent having a handful of more years on you. “When’s the last time you sat on a swing anyway?”

“I dunno, 30 years ago?”

“Long overdue.” You jerk your head at the swing besides you. “Bet I can swing higher than you can.”

He tilts his head and smiles. “I’m sure you can.”

“Leon, come on.” You pout, scuffing your soles on the tarmac again as you swing half-heartedly back and forth. “Please?”

How could he ever say no to that face?

He rolls his eyes and walks over to the swing, sitting down heavily as instructed, wrapping his fingers around the chains. “Happy?”

“Uh-uh, not until you swing, Kennedy.” You kick your feet against the ground in demonstration, picking up some height and speed as Leon follows suit.

You look at him and grin as the two of you begin to swing in sync, getting higher and higher. Leon’s smile only grows wider as the wind rushes through his hair.

It takes him back for a moment – back to before he knew what Umbrella and BOWs were. He still has his jokes, of course, but it had been a while since he’d allowed himself to be a little bit silly.

You just make it far too easy.

He scuffs his boots against the ground to slow down his movement and watches as you follow suit, tilting your head in concern.

“You okay?”

“Mm-hm. Come here,” he pats his lap and you jump off mid-swing, somehow managing to keep upright. Leon rolls his eyes and stops his swing completely as you step over and drop yourself sideways onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck for stability.

“I can’t ride on the back of your bike, but I can sit on your lap whilst you swing, huh?”

“Uh-uh,” he lets go of the chain and cups your face. “I just wanted a kiss.”

He closes the gap then with a soft kiss, one full of utter adoration – not too firm, but one that makes your scalp tingle as his lips caress yours, over and over.

He pulls away to lean his forehead against yours.

“I love you, sweetheart. Thanks for keeping me young.”

You let go of his neck to pat his chest, chidingly. “Come on, you’re not that old. You were swinging pretty high.”

“Yeah, guess I was.” The cocky grin crosses his face then. “Higher than you, actually.”

“Uh-uh”, you shake your head, adamantly. “You just think that cos you’re a little bit taller.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

But he’s lost you, your attention fixed on something over his shoulder. “Ooh, they’ve got a new slide too!”

You make Leon try every piece of play equipment before finally heading home, but his smile never drops.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Comments and reblogs make my whole day x

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls 10 2/2

Masterpost

Jazz’s roommate Tiffany was fine and all that, but Danny didn’t feel that he was missing out on much when he phased from the stairwell directly into the little ensuite bathroom that connected to Jazz’s bedroom. He could hear quiet conversation from the living room– the TV, maybe?

But Jazz had clearly locked her bedroom door before she left. Danny made a note that Tiffany definitely wouldn’t be finding him and then he starfished on his sister’s bed. He set an alarm for 1 am with a smidge of guilt. It probably wouldn’t wake her up. Maybe she wouldn’t even stay home for the night, she had a boyfriend, right? Or was she the one with the girlfriend who worked downtown?

Whatever. Danny slept like the dead. In fact, he slept through his alarm and woke up to see 7 messages from Jazz. The one showing on the screen was “DANIEL FENTON Tiffany thinks my bedroom is HAUNTED because someone is snoring in there.”

“Oops,” Danny said under his breath. He opened up the clock app and made sure that the alarm wasn’t going to go off again. He quietly pulled open Jazz’s drawers to find a clean pair of socks and a hoodie that didn’t have his university name written on it.

The first thing he pulled out was a baby pink hoodie that had SQUAT written on it in white all-caps print. “I sure do,” he said to himself, and changed into it. It was a lie. He did not lift weights. That was Jazz’s hobby.

He did enjoy the thought of how pinched her face was gonna get when she saw him in her clothes. Danny had a little chuckle over it before he phased back out and nearly fell down the staircase. His arms wheeled for balance.

When he caught himself he looked around to be sure no one saw. The zone was clear. Danny smirked.

“Another perfect landing for the Phantom.”

Oh, duh. That was a thought. He didn’t have to hoof it.

It was dark enough that he reconsidered his plan to walk to Arkham on foot and ducked back into Jazz’s place to transform where no one could see the light show.

He made good time across the stretch of ocean that separated Jazz’s dream job from the rest of Gotham City. He knew where to go, based off of insider information.

Jeremy Waters had landed himself in Arkham, rather than standard criminal housing, because he would not shut the fuck up about the debt the Ghost King was going to owe him and how he would repay it in the blood of everyone who crossed him or whatever. He was in the low security end, given that he was just some dude, but Danny still spend a moment steeling himself to wake Jeremy and (ugh) talk to him.

‘He’s going to take this as positive feedback,’ Danny thought glumly. ‘He’s going to think he’s gotten something in his obsession with me. He’s probably going to be even more annoying.’

He wasn’t entirely sure that Jeremy’s focus on gifting him spouses wasn’t projection. The guy was kinda obsessed.

The weight class difference between the two of them was just absurd, metaphysically speaking. Jeremy was a 52 year old Poli-sci graduate who had ditched a middle of the road career in the Foreign Service at age 40 and started pursuing immortality. Midlife crisis and all that. He had a bit of boxing experience, but that was it. He was just a human guy.

Danny was king of the dead and he could shoot lasers from his hands. He was strong even for a ghost.

‘It’s pathetic that he creeps me out still. It’s just such bad vibes to be pursued by this old guy who won’t take no for an answer.’

Still, gotta do what you gotta do. He blew frost into the room to set a mood and scramble the fuck out of any surveilance equipment. Then he grimaced his way through calling out, “Jeremy. Jeremy. Jeremy!” until the jerk woke up.

…and immediately started genuflecting. “My lord Phantom,” Jeremy whimpered. His whole body was shaking.

Danny wished it was fear. But no. It was excitement, like he was some freaky little purse dog. He shuddered. “What did you do differently in your latest summoning?” he asked. His voice somehow came out cold and superior.

He could see Jeremy’s dazed grin even when the guy was still looking at the cell floor. “I am so glad that you ask, my lord,” he babbled. “I increased the number of ritual participants from 7 to 12. I changed from Kosher to Pink Himalayan salt. I was initially going to offer my humble self as a sacrifice-”

Danny’s stomach lurched.

“But when the Red Hood burst in, I knew that it was a sign!”

The red what now?

“Surely someone whose aura is so soaked in death and brutality would be a flavorful meal for one so horrendous and deathly as you, my Lord,” Jeremy babbled on.

Danny made a face.

‘He thinks I’m going to eat the sacrifice spouse?’ Danny paused. ‘...Was he lying, or does he want me to eat him? What does he think will happen if death eats him?’

He had a morbid curiousity that made him want to ask. But it was probably best not to know. He needed to sleep at night.

“It was the Pink Himalayan salt that was powerful enough to draw my attention,” Danny told Jeremy, because he really didn’t need any good information. “I reject your offering. Stop trying.”

He left immediately in hopes of not hearing the wailing and gnashing of teeth behind him.

[loulovingho]

I hope I'm not too late for a prompt..

Buck and Tommy enjoy waking up in the morning while cuddling eachother. Then Buck panics because he thinks he has a shift that he's going to be late to. Tommy tells him to stay a few more minutes. But Buck calls Bobby and finds out there is no shift (for whatever reason). They go back to cuddling.

this isn't morning, oops, and it's a little different than requested but I hope you like it!

Buck could sleep through anything when he was wrapped up in Tommy's arms, no exaggeration. Tommy was regularly shutting off Buck's alarm and rattling him awake himself because Buck was “too cozy” or “too warm” to hear the sound.

The only thing that would wake up Buck was his need to use the bathroom or his body naturally getting enough rest and being properly reset.

A rainy Sunday afternoon led Tommy and Buck up the loft steps and into bed. Gentle kisses, soft touches, quiet gasps, and lazy strokes left them feeling warm and cozy next to each other.

Thankful Tommy had the presence of mind to bring a towel to the bed in the first place, cleaning up was quick and easy. They were tangled into each other again quickly, with nothing but the sheets over their bodies.

Buck fell asleep first, his head on Tommy's chest, Tommy's hand running soothingly through his hair while the other rubbed up and down his back.

Tommy followed not long after, listening to Buck's relaxed breaths mixed with the rain pattering on the window.

Peaceful.

That's the exact opposite of how Tommy would describe the way he was woken up.

A shout of, “Oh my God!” jolted Tommy out of his sleep.

He looked over to see Buck slinging off his covers and running to his dresser to pull out a fresh pair of underwear.

“What's wrong?” Tommy asked, eyes darting around the room to check for a fire or intruder.

“I'm late!”

“Late?” Tommy was still half out of it, and very confused. “Late for what?”

Buck turned to him with wide eyes, hopping into his underwear. “Work!” Once he had his underwear on he leaned over the bed and grabbed his phone, showing Tommy the 6:43 on his lock screen. “I was supposed to be at work by six!” He glanced out the window, “And it's still raining! Great, it'll take even longer to get there now. I gotta call Bobby.”

“Ev, wait, just-”

“I can't wait, Tommy!”

As he called Bobby, Buck turned back to his dresser, tossing some clothes into his duffel that was lying on the floor.

Tommy picked up his own phone from the bedside table. “Evan,” he said calmly, “hang up, hun.”

“I'm not hang- Bobby! I am so sorry!”

“Buck?” Bobby answered, immediately concerned. “What're you sorry for? Something happen?”

“I overslept and my alarm didn't go off or I didn't hear it and Tommy usually wakes me up when I don't hear it, but he didn't hear it either and-” he was babbling. Babbling and babbling as he lifted his duffel and tried to zip it with one hand, tugging hard when the zipper wouldn't budge.

“Evan,” Tommy called from behind him, but Buck just waved him off.

He walked over to Tommy and dropped the bag over his lap, mouthing, “Zip this, please!”

“We had soup for lunch,” Buck continued to Bobby, and Tommy had to stop and listen to wherever the hell this was going. “We had soup and I know better than to have soup on a rainy day, that always makes me even more tired, and I was so warm, Cap. I know rainy days are busier than usual and I know you need me to be there and be on time. I am a little surprised no one tried calling me, but maybe that's all part of the lesson, ya know? Maybe-”

“Buck!” Bobby yelled from the other end of the line. “You're not late. In fact, you'd be alarmingly early if you came to work right now.”

Buck paused, stared in Tommy's direction. Tommy lifted his phone, a 18:45 on his lock screen. “I tried to tell you,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh. I- Bobby, I'm gonna go.”

He could hear Bobby laughing. Athena too. There was no way she hadn't heard his rant, even with him off speaker. “See ya tomorrow, Kid. Tell Tommy hi for us.”

Buck dropped his phone on the bed, his cheeks red, glaring at the smirk rising on Tommy's face. “I hate you,” he pouted.

“I keep telling you, Evan, this is why you need to switch your phone to military time.”

“Shut up.” Buck crawled back on the bed, dropping down beside Tommy, settling his hand over Tommy's chest. “I'm goin' back to sleep.”

Tommy put his own hand over Buck's, squeezing gently, “Want me to order dinner?”

“Mhm. Don't care what.”

“M'kay. Now, when there's a knock on the door and I wake you up, it'll probably be around seven thirty at night, not morning.”

When he got no verbal response, he figured Buck had already fallen asleep. He yelped extra loud when he received a surprise pinch to his nipple.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For family day interactions, what about meeting Vil’s dad and realizing “oh wow so that’s where Vil gets his looks from?”

[Consider this interaction sort of a follow-up to this one!]

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry/j

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Is that you, Vil-senpai?"

The words had left your mouth before you had the chance to rein them back in.

He, a skilled pretender, kept his head turned away, not reacting the slightest bit to his name. In his cream-colored tracksuit, sneakers, baseball cap, sunglasses, and mask, Vil was just another face in the crowd. A seemingly ordinary boy, even when those around him started shifting, their heads whipping this way and that.

Then came the murmurs: "Vil? As in, Vil Schoenheit? Where?!"

"Oops." You covered your mouth with both hands, realizing your mistake. To speak his name in public was to attract attention--and potential ilk. "False alarm, my bad!!"

The disappointed onlookers retreated, returning to their families. You took the opportunity to elbow your way closer to Vil, cautiously keeping your volume low.

"Senpai...!"

This time, there was a slight incline of his head, the darting of the eyes to the side to meet yours. You couldn't see the shape of his mouth behind the mask, but you wouldn't misplace those striking violet eyes and golden hair anywhere, try as the dark lenses and the hat tried to hide them. He nodded, and you recognized the signal: Follow me.

Vil peeled off from the bustling courtyard and to a quiet corner, the light of the sun hidden by a jutting angle of the school building. You trailed after him obediently, stopping only when an older man surpassed you, his strides long and elegant. He sported the same outfit as Vil, right down to the designer sunglasses. The man seemed to smile at you as your paths crossed, his eyes twinkling.

Who is that...?

You ducked into the meeting place to find Vil and the stranger already waiting for you. In the presence of his severe beauty, the question clung to the roof of your mouth.

"You've picked a rather inopportune time for a social call, potato," Vil sighed, slipping his mask and glasses off. He brushed flaxen locks away from his forehead, slick with sweat.

"Sorry! It was just funny seeing you in the whole 'I'm trying to blend in' get-up," you said sheepishly. "I'm so used to seeing you openly flaunting full glamour."

"As Rook would put it, 'why deprive the world of my beauty?' But deny it I must this time. I would be hounded relentlessly without this disguise."

"Gotcha. I won't make the same mistake again!" Your gaze briefly fell upon the masked man beside Vil. Clearly not a crazed fan or a paparazzo, from how calm Vil was around them. "I'll go--see you around campus then?"

"Ah, this is a friend of yours, Vil?" the stranger finally piped up. "Chasing them off so soon? You haven't even introduced us yet."

"Excuse me. Where are my manners?" Vil cleared his throat. "Potato. This is my father. He goes by the stage name Eric Venue--but to you, 'Mr. Schoenheit' will do. Father, this is a schoolmate of mine."

"Huh, Eric Venue?" Your brows scrunched. You were sure you had heard Cater gushing about an Eric Venue's resume: an extensive filmography, and many lucrative appearances and deals. "The... big star? That's your dad?!"

"The one and only." Vil placed his hands on his hips. "Be honored that you get to meet my father in person, one-on-one. You would not wish to know how much money that would normally cost."

(He didn't have to say it, but you knew in your heart that, whatever the value was, it would make Azul's eyes turn into thaumark signs.)

Eric--no, Mr. Schoenheit--laughed, a pleasantly low rumble. "My reputation precedes me! Don't mind my Vil, he's always been a bit of a proud one.”

Taking your hand in his, he gave it a firm, friendly shake. He lowered his mask and flashed a pearly smile. “Charmed."

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Sch…”

Your brain short circuited when he revealed the entirety of his face. There were no words to describe his beauty.

It was a mirror to Vil’s—or rather, Vil was a mirror of him—the rich colors and symmetrical arrangement similar. Time had allowed his features to deepen and mature, like the aging of a fine cheese or wine, lending him a regal, refined presence. He was like a kindly king that had stepped out of the pages of a storybook or a dream: far too handsome for the real world.

“What’s the matter?” Vil asked, smirking at your silence. “Grim got your tongue?”

“I, uh…” You swallowed, seeking out what few words you had left. “I can see where you get your looks from, Vil-senpai.”

“Hahah, I didn't know your friend was such a comedian, son!” Mr. Schoenheit warmly laid a hand on Vil's shoulder. "No, I'd say my Vil here's the fairest one of them all."

"Please. You flatter me--and you humble yourself." Despite his prickly vocabulary, there was warmth to Vil's tone. A joking sort of energy he didn't typically wear.

You gaped at them in awe. Their combined star power was so raw, so intense, oozing with natural charm. Just standing before them made your legs quake, aching to kneel in a subconscious act of respect. The hand Mr. Schoenheit had shaken still tingled, as though he had touched you with magic.

"I'll never wash this hand again," you muttered, absentmindedly rubbing at your wrist.

"Oh no, you'd better," Vil warned sharply. "What will become of your personal hygiene if you don't?!"

"There are better ways to remember this occasion," Mr. Schoenheit suggested with a grin. He produced a pen from his tracksuit, brandishing it like a sword. "If you'd like, I could give you my autograph. How does that sound?"

"Wow, really, sir!?" You glanced at Vil, who seemed just as shocked.

"... If father offered it, then I don't see why you should turn down his generous offer. Just find something for him to sign that's NOT on your body."

"Uh, okay!! Er... Hold on a sec!!"

You furiously dug around in your pockets, praying that there was something viable there. Your fingers soon came upon a crumpled piece of paper, which you fished out and smoothed to the best of your ability. It was thrusted at Mr. Schoenheit with pleading eyes.

Vil made a face. "Is that a receipt from Mr. S's Mystery Shop?"

"It was the closest thing I had on hand," you mumbled.

"It's not even in good condition..."

"That's quite alright! If it makes my fans happy, then I'm here to oblige."

Mr. Schoenheit gently plucked the paper from your grasp and set to scrawling his signature upon the receipt. Even his signing was beautiful--elegant and flowing, not a single moment wasted.

When the receipt was returned, his name, penned in a flowery cursive script, graced you. Suddenly, the wadded up paper once destined for the trash bin was worth a million thaumarks. You squealed, hugging the signature against yourself.

"Thank you so, so much, Mr. Schoenheit!"

"My pleasure. It's always a joy meeting fans--and, of course, meeting Vil's bosom buddies. Please continue to support him, will you? That would make me the happiest father in the entire world." Mr. Schoenheit smiled at you again, and you felt stars imploding in your vision, your legs going from muscle and bone to jelly again.

"Y-Yessir!!"

"Wonderful! Now that that's settled, you'll have to excuse us." Mr. Schoenheit replaced the elements of his disguise and hooked his arm in Vil's. "I've been looking forward to catching up with my son. We have a big day ahead of us!"

"Y-Yes, I understand! Please enjoy your time together!"

You bowed on instinct--like a subject to their sovereign. Your head raised again only when you were certain the two had passed.

Vil and Mr. Schoenheit's backs were to you, backs that passed for those of ordinary people in those matching cream tracksuits. But there was the unmistakable aura they radiated. Golden as a new dawn, mysterious as a violet-colored sky.

A king, and the prince descended from him.

The autograph burned in your palm. Your new treasure, the result of this memory: a private audience with the king and the prince.

[madstronaut]

WIP WRITES RIGHTS NOW! I SAID WIP WRITES RIGHTS NOW

blahblahmaster rant list link blahblah dont look at me

PSA when you only just discover a moot is a prolific writer you run to read all her writing and comment in excruciating detail cc: @gemmahale

blorbo x named oc fans, this one’s for you (it’s me, im talking about me)

please see below a random and incomprehensive ramblelist of my stream of consciousness as I sampled from gemma's works:

Feylands WIP

I find the content warning tags extremely titillating (also I have not seen such a prolifically well organized tag list AND color coordinated to boot like gemma’s blog???? putting my outlook inbox/work docs/excel sheets to shame!!!) and I don’t even read/like fae stories (yes I never read ACOTAR and I don’t plan to anytime soon, I missed that booktok ship, most likely cos im not on the tikky tokky as the children like to say, i watch the reposts on instagram like a proper mlllenial)

Josephine’s heart pitter-pattered at the compliment, heat climbing up her cheeks as she mumbled a thanks, their eyes locking again. 

🥰🥰🥰NOT THE PITTER PATTER

my inquisitive ass is already like “what’s gary’s real name” and “hearing aid = soap b/c of all the damn bombs he blows up?” “but i headcanon gaz with freckles, maybe it’s gaz? gaz = gary?” “or maybe ghost = gary?” GEMMA GIVE US WIPS I MEAN HINTS PUT ME OUTTA MY MISERY

Call of the Wild WIP

I love the little note gemma included about this being inspired by @deadbranch (shoutout to branchy btw my beloved) - honestly floored at all the beautiful fic/headcanon/drabbles/askfills ive read that are the brainchilds birthed from love for other creators’ brainchildren

also equally floored at how many of writers here are like “this incredibly layered/moving/tender/spicy/nasty fic came to me in a dream”

also SUBVERTED TROPES SUBVERTED TROPES SUBVERTED TROPESSSSS

Kyle cleared his throat, shifting his stance. “She prefers to be called a wolf.”

AHAHAHAHAHAHA GODDDD THIS WAS A ZINGER

“Please!” Kyle called back, face half covered in shaving cream.

i need fanart of this right fucking now let me, i mean shannon, sorry oops but haha..unless? finishing shaving you bby

and FUCKING ROACH IS IN THIS FIC HOLD ME BACK OR YOU *WILL* GET CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE OF ME TEARING APART THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE BECAUSE MY BRIEF HYPERFIXATION ON ROACH IS BACK WITH A VENGEANCE FROM THIS SMALL SNIPPET AND IN THIS 500 PG DISSERTATION I WILL-

also THAT PROLOGUE APPETIZER SLAYED ME

“The way I see it, you’re fucked either way. You don’t make it out of here, you’re fucked. You become mine, you’re fucked - but in the good way.”

this + the mention of bulge + damp cheek definitely brought a visceral IRL memory for me (affectionate/horny)

also sidenote: it’s the little things that matter and gemma i see you gurl and salute you - incorporating things like hearing aids, mentioning roach is HoH/using sign language, shannon using a shower cap for her curly hair - 😘👌

Corporal Distraction WIP

holy MOTHER OF FUCK THIS SHORT LITTLE EXCHANGE IS FUCKING HOOOOOOOOOT

The captain moved closer to her, gently lifting her chin up with his finger. “So you’re the bird that’s got my sergeant distracted.”

“Sir?”

“Been trying to figure out what’s got Gaz so twisted up lately. Figured it was a partner, didn’t think it was a Corporal under him.” He didn’t release her chin, now holding it between his thumb and finger. “Has good taste, at least,” he muttered, eyes shifting to the Lieutenant, who only huffed in response.

any premise that fucks with/frustrates/sleep-deprives soap has my heart 🥰

Flowers From My Love WIP

the bit where they discuss the casserole perfectly encapsulates each of the boys imho - price grunting out a response, soap eagerly asking about the food (such youngest of the group/im baby vibes), gaz picking up on the note and name/# left, ghost grumbling and ofc he fucking HAS to bring up manchester- 

and the MOODBOARD!!!! God I fucking love when writers flesh out a bit of their worldbuilding with related art, moodboards, face claims, etc etc etc i WILL lick up every crumb from the floor like a starving doggo- fun fact, one of my first interactions in cod fandom was requesting a moodboard from @the-californicationist (also shoutout to cali my beloved)

and PEPPER THE SERVICE DOG OH MY LORD PLEASE GOD IF THE 141 MEN CAN’T BE REAL LET PEPPSY BE REAL PLEASE GOD IF I HAD TO ASK FOR ONE THING FROM THIS CURSED HELLSITE-

Palace Hallways WIP

my mind blacked out at artificer soap and knight kyle and druid ghost - I also just finished a campaign with my homegroup IRL not too long ago and we’re taking a long break before the next game while our DM preps and this is making me miss playing with them ;-;

Edge Dressing WIP

KATE KATE KATE KATE KATE KATE that’s it that’s the tweet

“She did, did she?” Kate murmured, scratching at Letty’s scalp and smirking as the woman went boneless against her.

yes only natural, i too would also go boneless if laswell was scratching my scalp and giving me a massage mommy? sorry. mommy. sorry? mommy. sorry?

Embroidered Secret WIP

if someone told me a year ago when I wasn’t into regency shows/fics that reading some COD AUs - yes fucking CALL OF DUTY, the military propaganda first person shooter video game - would change my mind - well id be more shocked than if someone flashed some ankle at my victorian pearl clutching ass

also please i love every single trope listed here

141 Studios WIP

“Our sweet soft girl Samantha (plus size rep ftw!) finds her niche quickly as the resident camgirl - creating a new set of films called "Tip of The Tongue", where she (and others) commentate on the scenes being filmed in a behind the scenes way.”

fuck i would read an entire multiseries for this premise alone???

Crew scramble around to clean up the sweat and cum streaked across the couch to reset for another scene.

fun fact - i briefly interned as a PA in college and one of the producers i worked with mentioned offhand that he once rolled up to a set that was cleaning up after a porn shoot and claimed they were rolling away literal barrels of lube 👀

“You the new girl?” His voice was deep, rumbling like stones cascading down a mountain.

NEW GIRL, OLD MAN, BLUE BIRD, CLOWN WITH A BUCKET HAT, I WILL BE ANYTHING FOR YOU PS!SIMON

A Protege’s Trust WIP

The most titillating tag of all..an empty one! lol jk im just messin with ya gemmy but actually yes i don’t see any posts with this tag

Museum Muse WIP

ahem you already know my rabid thoughts on this but noticed this new post re: multiple timelines and tbh do I know what’s going on? absolutely not - do I want to dive into this museum muse multiverse regardless? absolutely yes

Brix WIP

Re: “If it’s a story about learning to be loved again after a series of devastating losses, can that story then end on another loss? (And should the epilogue soften that loss by allowing them some sort of reprieve?)”

YES! i need to be in a certain mood to read angst but GOD WHEN I AM IN THE MOOD DOES IT HIT THE SPOT/FEEL SO CATHARTIC

also re: these comments - “Also, a bit of catharsis for my shitty experience working in the orchard industry.”

“It's less of a love story and more of a healing story. It's also a bit of a middle finger to the orchard that nearly hospitalized me. 🙃 (It's healing not only for the characters lol.)”

i find these types of fics are some of the best ive read when the writers have IRL experiences bleed into their writing - just has a certain je ne sais quoi about em

also i could be knee deep in sewage sludge and if i sensed soap within a 1 mile radius i would throw myself at him, brb busy handforging a trophy for annabeth for having enough willpower to continue working while JOHN SOAP MACATAVISH WHINES ABOUT WANTING TO COP A FEEL

Squeamish Stitches WIP

✨GLITz!!!! ✨fucking love this name

“God, I’d die here a happy man,” he grumbles into your thigh as you adjust your balance. 

His hands wrap around your calves, grunting as the treads dig into his shoulders. “No, between your legs.”

Ghost interrupts. “Keep it tactical, Sergeants.”

THE FUCKING BANTER? GHOST COCKBLOCKING GAZ? FUCKIGN SCREAMINNG

Useful Girl WIP

you had me at “we gonna get nast-ay kink-ay” and also got strong “secretary” with maggie gyllenhaal + james spader vibes 

also i had to look up ‘brown bottle flu’ as i’ve never heard that term before! ✨i learn somethng new with fanfic daily✨

She felt the breeze as the door opened behind her, the whiff of cigar smoke and cologne causing her to shift in her seat and sit up straighter.

if you’ve ever smelled/heard someone before you saw them it is *quite* the experience

“It's the prickle of the mountain's oncoming storm. It's the flapping of the flag in the howling wind. It's the explosion of lightning hitting a tree, splitting it open, part charred and part living - two states diametrically opposed to each other. It's the sigh of relief when the clouds finally part and the rain pours out. It's the breath of fresh air when the storm dissipates and everything is left clean.

It's yearning so hard for something that it leaves one fundamentally changed when they achieve it.

...I really ought to make moodboards for this fic. 😅”

this was an incredible fucking paragraph to read, fucking poetry right here, also incredibly erotic? though that might just be leftover brainworms in my head from watching shogun and a scene where one of the main charas describes an orgasm as “clouds parting after rain” 

Highland Tartans WIP

She reached her hand into his wool, petting him. “He comes from a good line and all, he’s just young.”

MacTavish laughed, sliding his hands to rest on his waist. “Aye, young and dumb. I know the type.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

PLEASE GOD GEMMA

I CANNOT CHOOSE FAVORITES BUT SPARE A THOUGHT FOR MY FREE TIME AND WORK HOURS WHEN YOU POST MORE OF THESE AND AT LEAST SPREAD THEM OUT SO I CAN KEEP MY JOB AND PAY MY BILLS INSTEAD OF GORGING ON YOUR WRITING

anyway to sum up i am fully convinced the multiverse lives inside of gemma’s brain because goddamn i am convinced once day some god-tier epic space opera multiseries is gonna spring out fully formed like athena from the gemmamind (yes I compared you to zeus, a mythical god, deal with it)

[youre-in-big-trouble]

(i found this in my drafts from last year, so. here you go :p)

sooo. today i had to give a urine sample...

woke up at noon, thinking my appointment was at 1pm. got up, got ready, and... realized i should skip my morning pee, since i'll need SOMETHING in me to give them... an hour isnt really enough time for me to get full enough for a good sample, right? especially since i hadnt dranken much that morning.

i get in my car and head off, planning on getting there a little early. right before i get there, i realized that my appointment is actually at 2pm. oops...

so i did some shopping! while i was at the store, i got the urge to go. i only realized after i got into a stall that, um. i realized i shouldnt let myself pee yet, since my appointment is in 45 minutes! if i go now, i definitely wont have enough for a sample... so i left the bathroom (begrudgingly) and finished up my shopping.

of course, i got to the office way too early. had to sit in my car for 40 minutes before i got the text that i could go in. by the time i got called up to the desk, i was getting constant pangs to gogogogooo... which makes sense, since id been holding my morning pee for more than two hours. AND i drank a bottle or two of water running errands... probably close to 40oz, in total, on top of whatever i had in me from the night before.

after i filled out my paperwork -which took a little longer than i was hoping - the technician asked me, "are you able to use the bathroom?" and i think i said "yes" a little too fast. i mean, im SURE she sees plenty of people for urine tests who've been holding for longer than i had been, but... its still embarrassing to have someone KNOW you gotta go.......

she brought me into a room with supplies, got a cup for me, and then got stopped by another technician for a minute... meanwhile, there's a bathroom RIGHT THERE, door open, toilet waiting patiently for me... as she was talking, she flipped on the light and the fan, and i was trying my best not to fidget. she didnt SAY i could use that bathroom yet, so i just waited for her instructions.

finally, she handed me the cup. and then guided me to the bathroom on the OTHER side of the building. THAT bathroom was for the next patient coming in, not for me! silly. luckily, it wasnt actually that long of a walk. it just felt like it because i was thinking with my bladder

she showed me where to leave my cup when i was done, and then left me alone. i locked myself in the bathroom so fast lol... now all i had to do was, um. figure out where to set down my water bottle, papers, and phone. no table, no flat surfaces... i ended up setting them on the sink, scrambling over to the toilet, and... i did NOT pee on my own hand like i did last time! or on the outside of the cup! it was pure torture having to stop as soon as the cup was full, and then capping it... settling it in the receptacle...

when i finally sat back down on the toilet, i kept peeing for a solid minute after that... it was so nice to be empty after so long! i hadnt been close to leaking or anything... sure, it'd been a while since i had to hold it, but my bladder wasnt THAT weak.

it was kinda fun, though, even if it wasnt an intentional hold :p gotta love incidental omo situations!

[blamemma]

"Daniel, you must tell them, okay, if it is too tight or uncomfortable!" Max insists.

I AM MAKING THESE FACES 😵‍💫😳👀🧐😜 WHAT A BEGINNING

sorry to report this wasn’t as scandalous as people thought it maybe was, and was simply a small little fic about pregnant Daniel in Melbourne and the beginning is him doing his seat fitting and max worrying but i just lot momentum writing it oops!! anyway lil rest of the beginning underneath, unedited etc cause its basically an abandoned wip at this point x

mentions of mpreg under cut

“Daniel, you must tell them, okay, if it is too tight, or it is uncomfortable?” 

“I know, Maxy.” Daniel replies, pulling the zipper of his race suit up, fingers pushing the velcro around his neck together. 

“I just…worry, you know.” Max says, eyes downward, avoiding Daniel’s gaze, the way he gets when he doesn’t want to push too far, but wants his opinion to be heard. 

In the comfort of Max’s drivers’ room, everything is serene, the buzz of the paddock locked behind a door. No one knows about the baby yet, they only found out two weeks ago, Daniel waiting until Max got back from Jeddah to take the test. They’ve been living in romantic bliss since, elated about the news. They’d gone to the doctors shortly after to make sure everything was okay. Max had paid extra to get an early scan. Daniel was now 7 weeks along. They’ll tell Daniel’s family first, heading straight to Perth after the Melbourne race. Daniel knows they’ll be happy for him and Max, but he still feels nervous, letting them in on their little secret. 

Daniel moves to grab Max’s face between his hands, kissing his forehead gently, before making eye contact with him. 

“If it begins to hurt, or it feels too tight, I’ll tell them I fell off my motorbike last week and I’m all bruised up okay? I promise.” Daniel reassures him. Max nods, moving Daniel’s arms with him, before leaning in, pressing a quick kiss to Daniel’s lips. 

“Ok.” He replies, voice soft. 

“I should get going,” Daniel says, leaning down to grab his shoes. “Don’t want to be late on my first day!” 

“I will come with you!” Max responds, grabbing a cap to throw on his head. 

“Max…” Daniel draws out, not annoyed by Max’s volition, just aware of how busy a race weekend can be and how he doesn’t want Max to feel responsible for Daniel on top of all that. 

“I have a free half hour, and I need to speak to GP of course anyway, so I will come. I will just stand to the side, I will not interfere.” He insists, and Daniel can’t stop him as Max is halfway out the door, leading the way for Daniel, still convinced he doesn’t know his way around, even though the Red Bull corridors still feel the same as the day he left them. 

Daniel huffs under his breath, knowing he won’t win this battle and so follows suit behind Max, taking a few quick steps to catch up with him before grazing his pinkie against Max’s palm to let him know he’s there. 

The engineers are stood waiting for him, chatting whilst stood around the RB19. Max veers off to where GP is standing, and Daniel has to stop for a moment, glance around and settle his stomach. He doesn’t feel dread or disdain, just utter happiness, and joy, but he still feels nerves bubbling at the surface. 

He reaches forward, arm extended towards the engineers, fist closed, a confident “Alright boys,” said in his Australian accent, and lets them all fist bump him as a greeting. Some old faces, some new, but all of them are smiling at him.

“So, where do you want me then?” He asks jokingly. 

“Just hop on in mate, we’ve got a stool there for you if you need it, obviously be a bit careful, we’ll take care of the rest.” Chris tells him. 

“Sweet!” Daniel responds, stepping forward and placing his hand on the halo before he can second guess all this and get too in his head. He looks down the nose of the car, a number 1 staring back at him and an overwhelming sense of pride washes over him. It’ll never look as pretty as the 3 that used to be emblazoned across the front, he thinks to himself, letting the thought flitter away quickly before he gets ahead of himself. 

He uses the provided stool to hoist himself upwards, feet either side of the halo, his arms bent forward, clutching the halo to steady himself. 

A loud wolf whistle comes from behind him, and Daniel’s head whips round to see Max and GP leant against the side of the garage, Max grinning to himself as he stares Daniel down. Daniel blushes, all the way down his neck, as he realises his arse was bent straight towards the two of them, quickly trying to laugh it off as playful banter before the mechanics realise. His left foot goes down into the seat, right leg following shortly, so that he’s stood in the seat. He takes a moment to adjust himself, after crouches down, bringing his legs in front of himself and sliding forward. 

The seat is tight against his hips, pressing inwards, and he moves slightly, alleviating the pressure. The main thing he can feel though is the burning in his cheeks. His smile so wide and bright, a giggle almost escaping him that, his cheeks have begun to ache, saliva building in his mouth. Tommo is stood in front of the car, snapping photos, and a social media person who Daniel is yet to learn the name of is moving around the car filming him. He feels excited to see the photos, see the smile that’s cracked all over his face. 

“How does it feel?” Chris asks him. Daniel looks up to where Chris is leaning over him and nods once. 

“Feels good mate. A little tight on the sides, but nothing I can’t handle.”

[siremasterlawrence]

Hotel Of Lawrence 1

“Mr. Hardy! Thank you for joining us today we have a surprise for you.” I say humbly to him as we get on the elevator speeding up to pent house apartment. He smirks as the elevator begins to ascend to the top the number continue to pass by as we reach the midway 15th floor as it is coming to holt. It stops immediately in a rush as it came in a shock shaking us to our deepest core level and does not move again accept for the shaft buttons going awry. The buttons rolling upward and downward as to say we moving from floor to floor in a panic Tom races to the elevator door as he is slamming his fist.I cover my face hiding my barrels of fiery hot laughter with wicked smile spreading on to my face and it is overcoming as the sweat swells him up. He backs up fanning himself as his back hit the wall in pain I can see the panic surges he freaks out in a rage of fury bringing him sliding to the floor.His face lifts upward toward me as I shake my head to see informing him we are stuck in this space and he better get use to it if he wants to survive this as his head drops down. I snuck out my object from his pocket with my needle pointing it upward in to the air as I remove the cap flicking the plastic to the side of the room and push the tip to see the juices flow.Noticing my effort to me Tom leaps up in a quick motion grabbing my hand in haste to attempt to remove it from my hand as we toss and fight for me as I drive it downward pricking him. I shove the needle in to his skinso hard as he screams in pain yanking his hand to the side and I watch as he cries as I slap away some more and finally as the serum spills at release it.

“That is big guy! Close your eyes “

“Nnnnnooooooo!”

“Ssssssshhhhhh!”

“Be quiet “

“Mmmmmpppppfffff”

“Bitch”

“Go to sleep”

“Uuugggh!”

“That was not as simple as I thought it would be.”

“Well as they say”

“The bigger they are…”

“The harder they fall”

-Smack-

“How do you like that bitch”

“I bet you do”

“Guys!”

“Yes Sir”

“Open the door”

“Drag him out “

“Leave him on the couch”

“Strip him”

“Exit the room”

“Lock the doors “

“Yes Sir”

“Yes Master “

Tom wakes up alone in the room his eyes in a fuel check over the place till he lands on to me and he stood up facing me in lust and love it of all as he uses his arms to reach out and grab me.

“This is your new home, you will work for me and film your movies here as well.”

The end

Hotel Of Lawrence 2

Poor Chris Evans was promised top billing in the event and yet I left him waiting for me I am in control of this situation because I am his new owner. He sits on the chair I left for him on purpose annoyed as he taps both of his toes and shook his wrist nervously in a hear of the moment. The words roll off of his tongue as he thinks about what to do with me when I walk in to the room wagging his finger in my face and I giggle pushing him out of the way as I walk to the wall. I flip a switch the door closes automatically in an instant the locks shut us in and he is lost at my actions that are being taken it as exactly excitement. Pushing the window to the wall in his face I can see he wants to interrupt me with a ton of questions more like a barrage of them aim straight for me and I start to press in a code. He looks at me as if I am insane stood in front of the mirror pressing the glass like a lunatic who is typing a code in and is utterly amazed as it shines with a logo.

“You know Lawrence! I came because I thought I was your favorite actor.” Chris said.

“Obviously! Chris you are but I had to pay Tom a visit.”

“Right! Right! So explain to me again”

“This is your place permanently”

“What? I have a life “

“A wife”

“Ah no! He does!”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Your clone”

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Injecting…I mean claiming my favorite actor”

“Whatever! Oops the cat is out of the bag”

“Why are you committing this crime?..”

“I love you! So I took you “

“You don’t mean that “

“I am usurping your power “

“You are a object “

“I own you”

“Their is no excuse “

“I chose to make you mine”

“No point to fight me”

“Let me go”

“Release me!”

“Do you love me Chris?”

“No! I can’t my dear”

The end

Please read, like and reblog part 3 and 4.

[rustedhearts]

i want your things in my room (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington: resident frat boy heartbreaker. handsome, charming, good in bed—what's not to love? if only he loved you. based on this sexy thought of mine

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly’s roller wheels blurbs commissions! ✶ blurbs! ✶ somebody told me (part two)

tags: frat boy!steve, situationship, asshole-ish!steve, pining, kind of feral reader because i was feral writing this, smut.

"i want your things in my room, i miss you all of the time. i stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find...you look so cool, I wanna die. is it too soon to say what's on my mind?"

— in my room, julia wolf

for the lovely 🫧

wc: 2,095 (oops)

delta phi. saturday april 12th, 2009

Cords of muscle suffocated under the tight sleeve of a red cutoff—ripped while weight-lifting on the porch, you imagined. Knowing Steve, it was intentionally and meticulously cut in the bathroom mirror for a blurry cellphone image sent to another fling.

You never received texts like that. The only texts you received were late in the evening or at the crest of midnight:

you up?

coming over. unlock the back door.

The one trip-up in this eight month routine came two weekends ago at nine p.m.

coming over, brought you a surprise. want you to wear it saturday.

It was a tight white t-shirt promoting Steve for Delta Phi Senior President. You wore it like he asked, lingering in the basement corner of another Saturday party with a lukewarm beer you wanted to throw up when you saw hordes of other girls wearing the exact same thing.

He didn't even look at you that night.

But he messaged, an hour after you skulked home with a hoodie zipped over his face printed on your left tit.

didn't see you leave. can i swing by later?

He did. And you let him crawl over your naked body under a pink duvet and place his mouth wherever he liked. He didn't apologize, and you swallowed down the sharp sting of tears every time he told you how pretty you were—knowing every girl wearing his face that night received the very same treatment at one point.

You weren't special. You knew that. But he had such a way of making you feel like you were. Catching your eye through passing bodies, lifting his mouth in a sideways grin, wiggling his fingers in a tiny wave when he knew no one was looking. Cupping the back of your head in the checkout line at the coffeeshop when he passed by, because somehow he always knew when you were there. He never said a thing, but he had your heart stuttering every single time.

So, here you were. Another Saturday night in a dark Delta Phi corner, sipping a Twisted Tea and struggling to swallow past the lump of hurt in your throat when Steve's head turned to follow the path of a pretty and petite blonde. Watching his biceps flex under his sleeve, his hips turn in a pair of Levis often rumpled on your floor. You washed them once, when he came and got sick in your bathroom after a particularly intense recruitment night.

Steve lifted a wide hand and swept it through the front of his hair. You could almost smell it, the Old Spice soaked in those chestnut tresses. You used his bathroom on the second floor one time, found the red shampoo bottle resting on the edge of the tub.

And maybe you popped the cap and smelled it, closed your eyes and imagined Steve was right in front of you, pressing his cheek on your chest the way he did post-coital: panting wordlessly, letting you feel the warmth of his flesh clinging to yours, running your fingers through his hair to bring him back down.

Steve's eyes cutting your way yanked you from your warm, gut-wrenching thoughts of him. Over the swell of his own bicep: a pair of hazels fixing on your figure across the room. Your heart lurched to your throat when you locked gazes, fingers twitching to wave. He wouldn't wave back. You knew without a doubt.

But those lips quirked up in acknowledgement, and that was enough. Enough to have heat lapping at your face and coiling in your stomach. Enough to know he'd message after the party, when most of the crowd dispersed and his buddies wandered off to bed. Enough to know you'd feel his breath on your face tonight, feel his mouth over your body.

That was more than enough.

✶ ✶

You waited.

Waited—fully dressed on your bed, lamp clicked on in the darkness of the night—with the skin of your thumb between your teeth. Gnawing between glances at your phone, waiting for it to buzz with his name. The deeper the night grew, the hungrier you became. Hungry for his tongue sliding around your mouth, his fingers digging into your ribs with every pull back against his body. His palm cupped around your throat the way it often did when he took you from behind, keeping you braced against his chest so he could feel you struggle to catch your breath.

You waited. You bid your roommate goodnight through a closed door and waited. You peeled your outfit off layer by layer, checked your messages for his name, and waited. You laid back on your bed holding your phone to your faded-t-shirt-clad chest, and waited.

The hunger nestled between your legs, aching and pulsing with soreness. It was terrible how conditioned you were for Steve's attention. How horribly you craved it.

Somehow, his air of coolness made you want it more. When he avoided your eye, when your texts went unanswered, when he brushed by at a party and looped your pinkies together—you wanted him something awful.

But you wanted him most when you had him. When he was running his nose through the sweat on your neck, big hands sweeping over your stomach under the t-shirt he guided over your head. His t-shirt, always asked for in a groggy, early morning exchange before he left. When he was whispering—unwilling to wake your roommates—and promising that you were the only one he'd ever felt this close to.

"Swear nobody's made me feel so fuckin' high before," he'd say. "Love your body, baby, you're so pretty."

Tears squeezed at your lash line, burning as they spilled over. You swiped at them irritatedly, setting your phone on the nightstand and turning away from it.

And then it buzzed.

You flung your hands toward the vibration, snatching the scratched device eagerly.

coming.

missed you.

Falling back against your pillows, you let out a long, blissful sigh. He missed you. That was new.

Your phone buzzed with the long-awaited "here" text, and you had to catch yourself on the stair railing to avoid running toward the door. But the way you swung the door open and tugged him in did little to hide your excitement, and it had Steve grinning wide as you hurried back toward your room.

"Wait," he chuckled, stumbling over his sneakered feet. "Christ, you're quick to the belt tonight."

You clamped your bedroom door shut carefully, spinning around to find Steve toeing his shoes off at the end of your bed. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek when he turned to face you again. The smirk on his mouth was delicious.

Suddenly, all that hunger coursing through you fizzled to coyness. But Steve liked when you were shy. He thought it was cute.

"C'mere."

The way he called to you—softly, a sweeter version of his usual tone—always had your nerves tingling.

You stepped in front of him, giggling when he plucked at the faded, stained material of your bed shirt near your chest.

"Sexy 'jamas," he chuckled, swooping down to press your mouths together.

"Thought...you weren't...coming," you mumbled between detachments and quiet, wet smacks.

He said nothing this time, letting his hands drop to your hips to steer you around. He guided you onto the bed, and the pair of you moved like a well-oiled carnival ride until you reached the pillows. Two heavy palms pressed into the feathers on either side of your head, and Steve's mouth continued lapping at yours vigorously.

One thing about Steve was that he was always pleased to incorporate foreplay. He loved the art of kissing, and he knew it well.

Steve pulled away far too early, moving his lips to your cheek. Down your jaw, under the junction where nerves tingled for his attention under your ear. You fisted the thin fabric of his shirt as he dragged his nose across your jaw.

"Did ya miss me, honey?" His voice took on a low gravel that brought your hairs to their ends.

Your eyes fluttered between opened and closed, hips shifting on the bed. Your breath already shallowed.

"Mhm."

"Mhm? Tell me," he cooed, nose rubbing a small circle into your cheek, breath hot on your skin. "Tell me you missed me, pretty girl."

You blinked your eyes open, glazing over the length of his lashes and flecks of honey and emerald in his gaze. You could barely feel your own body, could barely form a sentence on your own.

"I missed you," you whispered dazedly.

Steve moved his eyes down to your stomach as he dragged the t-shirt toward your collarbones. His hand glided over your navel and between your breasts.

"Missed you, too. Take your shirt off f' me, sweetheart."

He knelt at the end of the bed and watched you undress intently, eyes tracing the curves of your body as he pressed to his knees and fumbled with the buckle of his belt. When the pair of you were bare, he returned to his place hovering above you, and you took your chance to roam your hands over his chest. Firm, warm, smooth-skinned. Lifting your back off the bed, you buried your nose in his throat and inhaled deeply. Steve's chuckle rumbled through you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel ashamed.

"Smell good," you remarked quietly.

Steve tipped his head away from your face until you settled back into the pillows. He grinned down at you there, hair curling over his forehead and toward his brow.

"Yeah? That's new."

You shook your head, tongue fat and dumb in your mouth. Your fingers traced down his arms bracing your head. "No...always smell good."

A swallow bobbed in his throat. The back of his finger nudged your cheek from the pillow beside you. "Yeah?"

You nodded this time, meeting his eye with what he could only call a lovestruck stare—all rounded and doe-like. "Yeah."

He wished you'd shut your eyes. He wished you'd stop looking at him like he was some sort of saint. He wished you'd stop letting him get away with all the shit he put you through.

Steve was quick to switch gears, pecking a short, painful kiss to your mouth before flipping you by the hips onto your stomach. You gasped at the quick and irritated pull of your hips upward until your ass was arched in the air. He pressed on the dip in your back and you let your stomach drop toward the mattress.

"Good," he sniffed. "Look good like this."

Because he couldn't see your eyes.

And you let him fuck you like that, pummeling so deep that you were buried in the mattress by the time he was done. You didn't cum and he knew it, and the pair of you settled flat with quiet gasps. He didn't press his cheek to your chest this time, didn't tangle your fingers together between sticky bedsheets. He laid there only a few silent moments before reaching for his pants.

"Hey," you called softly, propped up on your elbows. "You're not gonna stay?"

The broad muscles of Steve's back flexed and rolled as he hoisted his jeans over his hips and secured his belt. He pulled his shirt on without turning around, feet shoved into his sneakers before you could even sit all the way up.

"Nah," he said, turning only as he headed for the door. "Gotta...um, study."

Brows furrowing, a small giggle slipped from your mouth. "Study? You don't study."

Another swallow, noisy and paired with two eyes fixed on the floor. His voice neared a whisper when he spoke again. "Trying something new."

You watched him open the door just enough for him to fit through. You hugged your soiled sheets around your bare body and felt the hunger dim to hurt again.

Steve stepped into the doorway and turned his head an inch, but not enough to see those pretty features again. "Later."

You wanted him to miss you again. You wanted to press your nose back into his neck and breathe him in. You wanted him to bring his words down low where they belonged when he spoke to you. You wanted to be his girl for a few moments more, to feel his affection through every drag of his mouth and hands.

But the door closed, and you were left to watch him jog across the street through a sliver in the drapes instead.

Just another t-shirt. Just another girl in love with Steve Harrington.

[enigmaticexplorer]

Hello Marketplace! In all honesty, this is one of my favorite chapters--possibly a top 5.

Wolffe just being immediately aware something was wrong with Neyti and turning to Kazi to figure out why? I LOVE HIM.

Yes yes yes! I love observant Wolffe. I love concerned Wolffe. I love Wolffe who is confused by both child and woman acting abnormally and trying to figure out what the hell happened between yesterday and today. But I really love tender, caring Wolffe. He's just the best.

And that she's gonna let them update the locks?

I have to pause and say that your memes give me life. They make me so happy and never fail to make me laugh!

I can't lie, it made me think of that one scene in Ratatouille, but take this as THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENT.

I will most certainly take this as the highest compliment! I LOVE that scene in Ratatouille. And I'm HONORED to have written something that reminded you of that scene.

AND HER USING THIS AS AN OPPORTUNITY TO TELL NEYTI MORE ABOUT CEAIA?? AND WOLFFE BEING A PART OF THIS MOMENT??

YES. I love this scene because it's perfect for Kazi-Neyti bonding but it's also the first time that Wolffe is present for this type of bonding and callback to Kazi/Neyti's home. It's significant that he's there! He's slowly worming his way into their lives and their bond. And I like to think that he was just happy to be included in such a special moment for both Kazi and Neyti. He was leaning against the wall, watching them with a half-smile because he finds them endearing.

All of your caps statements about the Marketplace give me LIFE. I can't tell you how much I love reading through your comments. These are some of my favorite moments--Kazi laughing for the first time ever, Neyti sharing her fruit with Wolffe, the negligee and Wolffe teasing Kazi! LOVE these moments so much.

I think stuff like that is so interesting, and we've got so much wiggle room since canon has largely left it untouched.

I'll ditto everything you said because I absolutely love the wiggle room we've been given. I knew the Outer Rim was causing problems for the Empire during its first few years, and so I figured it would make some sense for an Outer Rim planet--like Ceaia--spying on the Empire to be made an example for all others. I drew a lot of inspiration from The Hunger Games because those books/movies are fantastic, but I always pictured the Purge of Ceaia similar to the bombing of District 13. Ceaia was the example and now everyone else is wary of rebelling.

OOP. HELLO THERE, PAINFUL SIMILARITY BETWEEN WOLFFE AND KAZI.

Yes yes yes! Callback to chapter 9 with Wolffe's statement. And it's in this moment that Wolffe realizes that he's not alone in his guilt. And seeing someone else who feels the same way when she shouldn't makes him start to realize that his own thinking might be flawed, and maybe, just maybe, he deserves a little better.

Thank you so much for your comments. They make me very happy :)

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XI

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.2K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

22 Melona

Kazi regarded her sister with an impassive expression. Tapping her fingers against her crossed arms, she glanced at her chrono. “I will force it down your throat.”

Anger twisted Daria’s mouth and she chugged the iridescent blue potion. Grimacing—either at the taste or the knowledge her hallucinations wouldn’t return today—Daria set aside the bottle and pressed her lips together. 

The silence between them was thicker than the humidity outside. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Kazi said stiffly. “But I—”

Daria turned on her heel and walked away. 

Kazi stared after her sister. A part of her felt guilty for controlling Daria. And yet she couldn’t muster the energy to really care. Her sister’s negligence had most likely aggravated her disease’s progression, and it was all for hallucinations.

Gritting her teeth, Kazi wandered out of the room and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. It was the sight of the little girl at the kitchen table that drew her from her frustrations. 

Neyti was awake earlier than usual. Her hair was rumpled and her eyes downcast. A glass of lemon juice, untouched, rested within reach of her fingers but she ignored it, picking at a spot on the table.

From his stool, Wolffe eyed Neyti, his brows furrowed in confusion. He gave Kazi a questioning look and she shook her head, starting on breakfast. 

As she sliced a loaf of bread, she could feel Wolffe watching her—feel the silent demand for an explanation. But it was his words from long ago, his accusation that made it too difficult to meet his gaze. 

You’re a shitty sister and even shittier caretaker. 

She didn’t want Wolffe to know about yesterday. She didn’t want his judgment. Even if she deserved it.

Bread toasted and smoothed with a jam Daria had made, Kazi set the plate in front of Neyti and took a seat at the table. The little girl frowned at the missing lumina berries and scrambled eggs.

“I was thinking,” Kazi started, “we could go to the Marketplace today. The vendors are setting up for the Harvest Festival and I’ve heard there’s good food to try.”

Flattening her palms beneath her thighs, to stop herself from wringing them, Kazi surveyed Neyti’s somber face. The exhaustion dulling Neyti’s skin. The smudges beneath her eyes.  

“If you’re interested,” she added lamely.

Neyti lifted a piece of toast, appraising the jam. A tentative swipe of her tongue and her eyebrows raised. She took a small bite and chewed. Another bite was followed by a sip of the lemon juice. 

Accepting that both Daria and Neyti would be ignoring her for the day, Kazi pushed away from the table. She didn’t fault Neyti. Little Kazi would have done the same. But hopelessness—the acceptance of her failure and the self-hatred it evoked—yawned within her, dark and hollow. Vacuous like the cold emptiness of a black hole. 

Kazi started to step away but Neyti lifted her head. She dipped her chin. 

The nod was small and hesitant, and Kazi hated the knowledge she was the cause of Neyti’s renewed reclusiveness. But she forced herself to smile. To appear unaffected. 

“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “We’ll leave when you finish.”

As Neyti finished her breakfast, Kazi washed the dishes, trying to concentrate on her task rather than the accusatory thoughts spearing her mind. A restless sleep last night and the remnants of shame made it difficult to escape her mind, so she shifted her attention to Wolffe. The sleeves of his white shirt were shoved up his forearms. His hair was still damp from a recent shower. He was studying her, and she raised an eyebrow in question.

“You look tired.”

Turning off the faucet, she threw him a bland look. “You must have been popular with women.”

His eyes narrowed and he slid a sidelong glance in Neyti’s direction. “What happened?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Drying her hands on a towel, she stiffened at his unflinching scowl. “It’s family-related, and has nothing to do with the magistrate or the network.”

Wolffe reclined back in his stool. “When are you giving the network our intel?”

“Tomorrow.” Kazi leaned against the counter, searching his face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

A week ago, the men decided to accept the rebel network’s offered collaboration. They would retrieve the network’s wanted intel, and the network would pay them in return. Quite handsomely. 

Kazi didn’t support the collaboration. The less contact with the network, the better. And she didn’t want Wolffe and his brothers forced into a position they didn’t want to be in. But she also knew the men. Knew they accepted the deal after much debate, consideration, and analysis of the risk-versus-cost. 

“We’ve made our decision,” Wolffe said. The tick of a muscle in his jaw was the only sign of his disquiet. “We need the money.”

They lapsed into silence. 

At the kitchen table, Neyti finished her toast and moved onto her lemon juice. Kazi made a mental note to visit a citrus stall. Maybe Neyti could pick some out and they could make their own version of lemon juice. 

Wolffe cleared his throat. “Are you eating breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. Just the thought of food made her stomach turn uneasily. “Anyway, we’re eating at the Marketplace.”

Wolffe tapped two fingers against the bar. “I’ll join you.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t an open invitation. “Why?”

“I need to pick up some things.” He pushed himself to his feet, regarding her suspiciously. “Don’t leave without me.”

With that, he disappeared into the basement.

Fifteen minutes later and Kazi and Neyti were buckled into the aircar. Wolffe had beat them to it, claiming the driver’s seat, and since Kazi didn’t like to drive, she didn’t offer to switch places. Instead, her attention was drawn to the coat of white paint freshening both the front door and the wrapround porch’s banister. The house looked cheerier, well-lived and inviting. 

“It was Fox’s idea, and the lazy bastard passed it onto Cody,” Wolffe said. He must have noticed her staring. Shifting gears, the car rumbled forward and he shot her an inscrutable look. “We’re adding a better locking system.”

Tiredly, Kazi nodded her appreciation.

“No arguments?” Wolffe asked. The surprise in his tone was genuine.

“I’ve wanted to update the lock for months.” Her cheeks warmed at the obvious negligence and she curled her fingers into the passenger seat’s cushion. “So I think it’s a good idea. Let me know how much it costs—” 

Wolffe snorted, and at her affronted glare, he rolled his eyes. 

They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

Being the first day of the two-week celebration leading to the Harvest Festival, the Marketplace was crowded. People crammed into the tight streets. Elbows knocked and shoulders jammed into one another. A greater part of the crowd consisted of humans, though the occasional sentient species stood out, much to Neyti’s intrigue. 

The little girl stuck close to Kazi, her mouth parted as she took in the stalls. Stands overflowed with an abundance of brightly-colored fruits and oddly-shaped vegetables. Spices spiraled into pyramidal structures. Some towered over Neyti’s small figure.

Scents of marinating vegetables, baked bread, and roasting meats wafted through the streets. Vendors and customers argued over prices. Icy fish sailed through the air, passing from one set of hands to another. 

Curiosity compelled Neyti to assess each stand, and by the time they reached a citrus stall, two hours had passed. 

Delighted by Kazi’s promise to make lemon juice when they returned to the house, and awed by the lemons’ size—some larger than Wolffe’s hands—Neyti meticulously selected half a bunch. Kazi slipped them into her bag. 

They finally stopped for food. Vinegared vegetables, charred pita, dollops of hummus, fried fritters. Wolffe bought a chocolate bar for Neyti, and while she was distracted, he split a second bar with Kazi. Initially, she refused it. But Wolffe was stubborn and Kazi too tired to argue, so she accepted the sweetened bar and they continued on their way.  

The longer they walked, the more Kazi started to relax and enjoy herself. She smiled faintly at Neyti’s wonder and made plans to take Neyti with her the next time she went grocery shopping.

They were wandering aimlessly when a large hand grabbed her bicep and pulled her to a halt. Kazi stiffened, frowning at Wolffe’s hand. Frowning at the thumb that grazed the bare skin of her bicep in a gentle arc. She lifted her gaze to his, and even though the dark gray of his poncho shadowed his features, she could still see his eyes. The blatant surprise. 

A heartbeat passed. Wolffe haphazardly released her arm, angling his chin toward a nearby stand.

“Ceaian produce,” he said gruffly. He flexed his hand, glaring at it. “I thought you… Never mind.”

Kazi glanced at the stand, reading its banner: 

LOCALLY GROWN CITRUS-STAR. A CEAIAN SPECIALTY.

Her heart slowed as she gawked at the baskets of produce. At the pale orange, tear-shaped fruits.

The last time she had eaten a citrus-star she was ten. Her father had bought a bunch and brought them sailing. It was one of their last trips together.

They sat on the railing of their boat, feet dangling over the water, the sun filtering through Ceaia’s classically gray skies. 

“Do you know what the citrus-star symbolizes?” her father asked. Little Kazi shook her head. “The citrus-star is a symbol of our people. Of our resilience. Through everything—the good and bad—we endure.” 

Her father smiled, and though his face was weathered by endless days at sea, his smile retained his youth. 

“But we can’t do it alone,” he said, voice stern. “Never alone.”

Dubiously, Kazi took a step toward the stand. And another. 

It was like a dream—the dreams she wished she didn’t experience. The dreams she awoke from that left her feeling drained and lachrymose because they were so real, full of joy and comfort and sheer life. 

She reached for a citrus-star; its fuzzy skin was soft to her palm, like the blubber of a dolphin. Exactly as she remembered. 

Beside her, a head full of black hair, peeked into the closest basket. Neyti studied the fruit with her usual shrewdness, extending a tentative finger to stroke the citrus-star closest to her. She inhaled sharply. 

“Do you remember the story of the citrus-star?” Kazi’s father asked when they had eaten their fill.

“Yes, Papa.” She smiled and her father nodded his approval. She knew the story better than any other. It was one of her favorites, after all.

Kazi bought three citrus-stars and ushered Neyti into an empty back alley, away from the loudness of the jostling crowd. Her hands trembled slightly as she squirted a few drops of sanitizer into Neyti’s palms. A splatter for herself and for Wolffe—who accepted the sanitizer with faint amusement—and she tucked the bottle into her bag.

“The citrus-star is the oldest known food on Ceaia,” she said to Neyti, passing her one of the fuzzy fruits. Neyti sniffed it. “Do you want to know the story?”

Eagerly, Neyti nodded. 

Kazi felt herself smile. “Legend claims Ceaia was originally an uninhabitable planet. It was a planet dominated by fearsome creatures and lacking the nutrients required for human survival.”

To her left, Wolffe leaned against the wall of the closest building, arms crossed over his chest. Though he appeared at ease, there was a slight rigidness to his shoulders. A hypervigilance in the way he scanned their surroundings, as he had done since they first left the aircar. 

Cast in shade from the Marketplace’s tarps—Eluca’s national colors (dark green, light gray, and pale yellow) used to shield patrons from the beating sun—Wolffe had removed his hood. The tarps’ shadows protected his identity enough. 

Kazi offered him the second citrus-star. He hesitated, assessing it with a critical eye. Neyti watched him closely. He noticed her appraisal. An innocent, toothless smile lit her face. Wolffe accepted the citrus-star, his sigh begrudging.

“Our people originated from the Unknown Regions,” Kazi continued. “But our planet was ravaged by the explosion of our sun, so we had to leave. Back then, our people were allied with the dragons.”

Neyti tilted her head to the side, listening raptly. 

“I told you that the dragons were our guardians.” Neyti nodded. “They didn’t just guard us, they were our companions. They were family—” 

A snort interrupted. A male, probably a decade older than Kazi, stood at the opposite end of the alley. A death stick rested between his lips and he puffed a small cloud of smoke. 

“Dragons don’t exist,” he said. Removing the stick from his mouth, he took a step closer, his eyes slowly taking her in. “Never did.”

From the corner of her eye, Neyti frowned, doubt marring her former curiosity. Kazi threw the male a disparaging glare. “There’s no evidence against their existence.”

He snickered. “With that outlook on life, you can argue the existence of anything.”

“There’s nothing wrong with naivete,” Kazi argued. “And there’s nothing wrong with believing in cultural legends.”

“You’re telling a fairytale to a kid.” He pointed a grubby finger at Neyti. “You’re filling her with nonsense—”

“That’s enough.” 

The harsh clip of Wolffe’s voice startled her enough Kazi fell silent, her snarky response lost. Wolffe had stepped away from the wall and angled himself between Neyti and the male. Annoyance and antipathy replaced his casual demeanor. 

“The details of our private conversation don’t include you,” Wolffe said dismissively. “Leave.”

The male spluttered. “How dare you—”

“I said leave.” 

The threat in his tone convinced the outraged male to find a new place to avoid the crowds, and once the male had slunk away, Wolffe faced Kazi and Neyti, resting a shoulder against the wall. He nodded at Kazi to continue. She schooled her features—hoping to hide the frustrated flush in her cheeks—and forced herself to smile at Neyti. 

“Because the dragons were our companions,” Kazi said, “they traveled far and wide to find our people a new home. They arrived on Ceaia and thought it resembled our former planet. It was perfect. Except for one thing: There was no edible food.”

Neyti frowned, hefting her citrus-star in question.

“Remember the story Daria told you about Vaeloria?” Kazi asked, starting to peel the pale orange shell of her citrus-star. Neyti reached for the pendant of her necklace, her expression solemn. Kazi released a quiet chuckle. “Vaeloria was one of the dragons searching for a new home, but when she realized the planet didn’t produce edible food, she started to cry.” 

The shell of Kazi’s fruit fell open, revealing the heart of the citrus-star. The edible part. 

“Vaeloria’s tears nourished the soil and from it sprouted a fruit.” Kazi flattened the five pieces of the shell. They formed a perfect star, protecting the inner, tear-shaped piece. She held out her palm. “The citrus-star.”

Neyti gasped.

“To this day the citrus-star remains the most revered fruit among Ceaians.” Kazi squatted beside Neyti and helped her peel her own fruit. The little girl admired her citrus-star. “It’s a reminder that no matter what, things will be okay.”

Kazi slid a piece of fruit into her mouth. The bitter tartness softened into an ambrosial sweetness so familiar she had to close her eyes. Her mouth watered as she chewed. It reminded her of her favorite memories. 

It reminded her of home.

A quiet shuffle drew her attention and she watched Neyti take a tentative bite. Neyti stiffened. Her nose scrunched, probably at the initial astringent taste, and her eyebrows knitted together. 

Slowly, she chewed her small bite, her features starting to relax—shifting from disgust to contemplation. Neyti plopped the rest of the piece into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged and Kazi breathed a quiet laugh, ducking her head to hide her amusement.  

“On Ceaia we celebrate the Harvest differently from Eluca,” she said, tossing the peel of her citrus-star into a bin. “We gift our loved ones, friends, neighbors, anyone we appreciate a fruit or vegetable in remembrance of the first gift our people received.”

Neyti shoved another piece into her mouth, and Kazi returned to her own citrus-star, relishing the familiar taste. 

They ate in silence, the tarps keeping the temperature tolerable. 

Surreptitiously, Kazi studied Wolffe, watching as he ate his citrus-star. His initial reaction was similar to Neyti’s—surprise, dislike, intrigue—but she couldn’t tell if he liked it, or if he was eating it to be polite. 

Wolffe must have felt her stare because he glanced at her. His eyes swept across her face, his expression inscrutable, and the corner of his mouth started to lift—

A hairy figure leapt from the tarps and landed on Wolffe’s shoulder.

Wolffe jerked. Kazi staggered back a step. Neyti gasped.

A monkey, its yellow eyes bulbous, perched itself on Wolffe’s shoulder. The monkey yawned, flexing sharp canines longer than Kazi’s fingers. Its tail curled, brushing Wolffe’s forehead.

Annoyed, Wolffe shoved the monkey’s tail away. “The fuc—”

“It’s a monkey,” Kazi interrupted. 

She tried not to smile, but Wolffe’s clear disgust for the creature now combing through his hair was far too entertaining. 

“They’re pocket-thieves,” she said, ignoring his baleful glare at her obvious amusement. “Most vendors hate them but they’re too hard to catch.”

The monkey’s tail swept along Wolffe’s forehead. Again. At his exasperated sigh, Neyti giggled, her hands pressed to her mouth and face gleaming with glee. The giggle was childish. So carefree and jubilant. 

“Maybe you should paint this,” Kazi said, nudging Neyti with her elbow. “I think Mr. Wolffe would love to have this memorialized.” 

Neyti giggled harder. 

Wolffe shook his head and lifted his hand, probably to fling the monkey off him. The creature was oblivious to his slow and controlled movement, too absorbed with rubbing its ears. 

Wolffe grabbed the monkey’s tail.

It hissed and bared its sharp canines.

Wolffe yanked the monkey from his shoulder—

A second monkey leapt from the building behind. Kazi watched, alarmed, as it swung for Wolffe. Bewildered by the surprise ambush, Wolffe released the first monkey.

The second monkey snatched the citrus-star from Wolffe’s hand and used his chest as a platform to propel itself away. 

The first monkey sprinted after the second, chattering its pleasure. 

They left an empty-handed Wolffe in their wake. 

The dumbfounded expression on Wolffe’s face made Kazi laugh, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle it. But the sheer randomness of two monkeys tag-teaming Wolffe to steal his fruit, coupled with Neyti’s giggling, was surreal. 

Her stomach ached and her cheeks started to hurt.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Her laughter quieted when she noticed both Neyti and Wolffe staring at her.

Surprise widened Neyti’s eyes. She pointed a finger at her cheek and Kazi frowned, rubbing her own cheek. 

Neyti grinned. A wide, toothy grin. Creasing her tawny cheeks were a pair of adorable dimples. Kazi smiled, glancing at Wolffe in the hope he noticed Neyti’s wide, effusive smile—needing someone else to share in this small moment. 

However, and to her consternation, Wolffe was studying her. Studying her in a way that made her feel uncomfortably perceived. Her blood warmed to a temperature of idle caresses, and yet her stomach twisted itself into knots of unease. Her face burned and she dropped her gaze, looking to the crowded stands beyond.

“Why don’t we continue on?” she suggested.

Before they rejoined the crowds, Neyti glanced between Wolffe and her citrus-star. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth. She seemed to be debating something of great importance. Finally, her decision made, she approached Wolffe and extended her last piece to the man.

Wolffe eyed the piece of fruit. His throat bobbed. “I’m all right, kid.”

Stubbornly, Neyti kept her hand extended. Wolffe narrowed his eyes. His gaze slid to hers and Kazi shrugged, deciding he was adult enough to deal with this on his own. 

An insistent shake of the fruit from Neyti and Wolffe caved, tucking the final piece into his piece and swallowing. Neyti wiped her hands on her frilly pink dress and looked to Kazi expectantly.

Their small trio set forth.

Afternoon sunshine heated the streets; the combination of the canopied tarps and dark gray of Eluca’s stone buildings maintained a semblance of coolness. 

Wolffe stepped away, telling Kazi to continue on without him, so she and Neyti wandered the aisles. Toys reminiscent of Kazi’s childhood earned a longer stop as Neyti perused each option with a careful eye. Kazi bought her an old toy that displayed film-photos with the click of a button. Neyti chose the film about constellations. 

At another stand, a vendor sold a variety of knives. Kazi selected a simple carving one—the vendor’s recommended choice for wood. Nearby, she purchased a book about trauma.  

They spent the longest time at a paint stand. Hailing from Alderaan, the vendor was a gentle, older man whose fingers spasmed, and yet, when he held a paintbrush, it acted like a natural extension of his own hand. Effortless and fluid. 

While Neyti scrutinized two different shades of blue paint, Kazi bought a small set of paintbrushes for Cody and then stepped to the neighboring stall. 

“Shopping to surprise your partner?” the vendor asked. The fresh-faced woman, probably in her forties with hair starting to gray, smiled suggestively. “We have matching bra and underwear sets—”

“Oh, no. I’m not…” Kazi stepped back, laughing awkwardly. “I wasn’t—”

“If you’re not interested in the matching sets, we have negligees.” The woman snagged a black one from behind her stall and held it out to her. “Suitable for partners and personal interest.”

Kazi didn’t need fancy lingerie. She hadn’t been with a male in years, and her bed would probably never see the likes of one again. But she hadn’t shopped for herself in a long time. And the negligee’s simple bodice was attractive. 

Approaching the stall, she accepted the lingerie, surprised by its airy, smooth material.

“Spun from spider silk on Jelucan,” the vendor explained. “It’s tear-free. Even after years of washing.”

Kazi hummed her interest, rubbing the bodice between her fingers. Sheer around the stomach. Classically gossamer around the breasts which were inlaid with simple flower designs. Thin straps and a lacy hem, the negligee would fall to the tops of her thighs. 

“We’re having a deal, and a white set would complement this set perfectly.” The vendor retrieved a lacy bralette and matching thong. She pushed them toward Kazi, her smile genuine. “I have a changing room just behind here.”

“That’s alright.” Kazi set aside the negligee. “I don’t need—”

“What do you think, sir?” the vendor interrupted. “Do you think she should buy it?”

A hand reached over her shoulder to feel the material. Kazi followed the length of the arm and found Wolffe standing behind her. He cocked his head to the side. “It’s silky.”

“It is.” She did a double take. “What are you—What—” 

“It’d look nice with your robe,” Wolffe offered.

Huffing her exasperation, Kazi snatched the negligee from Wolffe, ignored the smirk curving his mouth, and returned the item to the vendor, wincing apologetically. 

The woman winked. “I can keep this on reserve for you—”

“No.” Kazi backed away, her smile tight. “I’m okay. But thank you.”

Before the vendor could offer another deal, she walked away, Wolffe falling in step beside her.

“You want some privacy to buy it, I can step away—”

“Fuck off.” 

A quiet chuckle emanated from the arrogantly-humored man beside her and Kazi bit her lip, telling herself she wouldn’t smile. Telling herself she wouldn’t laugh. But she couldn’t entirely stifle her chuckle, and she thought it might have been worth it because the grin she received in return was effortless and easy. Amused and alive. The first she had seen from Wolffe.

They found Neyti still evaluating the two bottles of blue paint, and to avoid the crowded street, they stepped to the side of the stalls, giving Neyti time to finalize her decision. Wolffe leaned against the wall and surveyed their surroundings. His vigilance bordered obsessive but Kazi didn’t remark on it; instead, she took the opportunity to look him over. He was carrying two thickly-branched plants, their leaves a venomous vermilion. 

Mystified, she nodded at the plants. “What are those for?”

He hesitated. “My garden.”

Frowning, she looked from the bush to his face. He didn’t have a garden—

“The structure you and Fox built,” she murmured. Gardening was such an odd hobby to ascribe to him, similar to Cody and his painting. “I didn’t know you garden.”

Setting aside the plants, Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never had the opportunity before.”

The admittance was quiet and guarded, and he kept his attention on the crowds beyond their secluded spot. 

“We already have a garden,” she said quietly. “You and Fox could have used it.”

“This is different.” At her questioning look, he shrugged. “We want something that’s self-sufficient.” 

“How so?”

“We need bushes and flowers that’ll improve the garden’s efficacy.” He nudged one of the red bushes with his boot. “Nova recommended these. Said they’ll stabilize the vegetables and fruits Fox and I intend to plant. And I’m looking into harvesting pollinators—bees, of some species.”

Kazi was impressed by the effort and research he dedicated to his task. Then again, it was Wolffe. The hours he spent strategizing his missions—the calculation behind each of his decisions—proved his preparedness.

“A garden is permanent,” she remarked. “It sounds like you intend to stay for a while.”

Wolffe stiffened imperceptibly. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Her lack of hesitation—the sincerity in her tone—earned her a slow perusal, a perusal that felt questioning, private. Intimate. 

Sheepishly, Neyti interrupted, holding two tubes of paint: one dark blue and the other pink. Kazi purchased the paints, and when she turned back to Wolffe and Neyti, she found the former staring at the neighboring stall. Shaking her head, she allowed Neyti to lead them down the street, around the corner, and up a new aisle of stalls. They stopped at a flameworking demonstration. 

A handful of younglings were seated on fallen logs, watching the demonstration. Fascinated by the intricate process, Neyti joined the other younglings. 

Kazi stepped into a dark alcove, a soft smile on her face as she watched Neyti. Even though Neyti had lost so much in the last few months, she remained curious about the world around her. Her innocent hope and childlike optimism were admirable. 

An elbow grazed hers and Kazi glanced at Wolffe. He was raking a hand through his hair, brushing the curls from his forehead, his hood fallen around his shoulders. His hair was recently cut, the sides faded once more, the top longer. Long enough someone could run their fingers through it and tug. 

“I don’t know what happened yesterday,” Wolffe said quietly, his gaze locked on Neyti, “but you’re a good pare—”

“Don’t.” Tension replaced the ease she had felt a moment ago and Kazi swallowed, looking away from his confused scowl to the gathered younglings. She didn’t want his pitiful attempt to make her feel better. 

“Ennari—” 

“Please don’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know I’m not good at this, and I’m not interested in gratification.”

Wolffe stood close enough it was hard to ignore him. He cleared his throat. “Did you know her mother?”

“No. Daria and I were in the capital when…” she tapered off. “We were in the capital trying to find her a cure when everything happened. We were at the transport station when Neyti’s mother arrived. I didn’t know her. She shoved Neyti into my arms and begged me to take care of her. So I promised her I would.”

“Promises are important to you,” he said.

“They are.” 

Wolffe cocked his head to the side. “Why did the Empire attack?”

Kazi loosed a brittle breath. “I’m surprised you don’t know.” 

“I deserted right after the war’s conclusion.” He searched her face. “I’ve heard the propaganda. That’s it.”

“The propaganda’s fairly accurate,” she said. “Our government agencies were spying on important military intel. We did it throughout the war—against both the Republic and the Confederacy. We thought we were safe. We thought the Empire wouldn’t dare attack us.”

Scoffing, she glanced at Neyti.

“But the Empire didn’t like being spied on. They didn’t like some backwater planet accessing, analyzing, and disseminating their intelligence. So they made an example of us.” 

It was six months after the Empire had risen to power. 

She remembered the comm call from Aeli, her fellow graduate. Her coworker. The only person she considered more than an acquaintance. 

“Kazi! They’re here. You have to run.”

She remembered the panic in Aeli’s voice. The harshness in her breaths. Like she was running. 

She remembered Aeli’s urgency.

“Get on a ship and don’t come back. I’ll—”

She remembered the way Aeli gasped. The loud swish of a blaster bolt. The crackling on the comm. And then the silence.

“We were a warning to other planets,” Kazi murmured. “To the early rebels, that rebellion was futile.”

Transferred between ships at a transport station, she overheard the whispered conversations between people. Their hushed fears and worries. Their grim condolences.  

“They destroyed our government buildings and slaughtered anyone with connections to the government.” 

The noise of the Marketplace’s streets quieted.

“And the worst thing is that the Empire doesn’t operate on Ceaia. They left, because Ceaia doesn’t offer them anything of value.” Her throat constricted. “From what I know, less than a hundred Imperials work out of the capital. Less than a hundred. Goes to show how many people survived the Purge.”

“There could be others,” Wolffe said. “Like you.”

“Maybe.” Her vision blurred and she shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense why I survi—” 

Kazi winced, rubbing her chest. Her survival was something she ignored, because if she thought about it for too long, she didn’t understand why—

“Being the commander of a battalion meant sending men into battle.” Wolffe’s voice was low, rough, and she stilled, scanning the hardened planes of his face. “I sent them into battle knowing some of them would die. I lost a lot of men over the years. I lost brothers.”

“Wolffe is single-minded when it comes to his goals. He will run these missions—and run himself ragged—until he either shifts his focus elsewhere or learns to live with the guilt.”

“Guilt for what?”

“Surviving the war.”

“That’s why you’re spying for the network.” Wolffe lowered his face to hers and she tensed. “I didn’t get it. But now I know—”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“I’ve seen it in Fox. I’ve seen that same look in his eyes.” 

They were standing close enough she could smell him—smell the scent of his soap and something so familiar it made her heart ache.  

“You have it too,” she whispered. “For different reasons, but you have the same look.”

He held her gaze. “I know.”

Masterlist | Chapter 10 | A Muse | Chapter 12

A/N: Read “A Muse” for additional story context.

Wolffe’s “I said leave.” was directly inspired by the 1999 The Mummy scene with Rick O’Connell’s “You’re in her seat. Move.”

Next chapter release – March 21st  

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

[helloiamace]

I was sitting in a tree reading a book when a deer showed up and started eating leaves from the bottom branches and I felt like a freaking disney princess or a fairy or something until it noticed my presence and immediately ran away.

Can’t blame it though, it probably wasn’t expecting a human to be sitting in the tree. It’s not really our natural habitat.

[tomdutch]

#37 and 44 prompt with tom :))

❀ girls like you ❀

it’s my first time writing bartender!tom & it was a lot of fun, i hope y’all enjoy :’) i think this au is gonna be reoccurring on this blog lmao 😳 also! gif by the wonderful @cindymooons <3

prompts: (37) kitchen counter make-outs + (44) wrapping your legs around your lover’s body as they lift you

↳ bartender!tom, rich kid!y/n, secret dating au, a pretty frivolous make-out

word count: 1.4k

flufftober drabbles (requests are open!)

when the clock finally ticks 12:30 am, tom slides out from behind the bar and walks towards the large double doors leading to the hotel main lobby. it’s been a long shift; ten hours with only a half hour break in between to get off his feet and smoke a cigarette outside in the sweet, sweet silence.

customers of the four seasons bar are especially rowdy on a friday night. tom’s got a theory at least half the somewhat wealthy, married men of london go there instead of their homes, tan lines apparent on their finger where their wedding ring used to be, now shoved into the pocket of their work slacks. they drink like retired sailors and lay on the shameless flirting heavily. the former doesn’t really bother tom—after almost three years of bartending here, he’s at a point where he doesn’t really need a partner to split the workload with on busy nights.

as he slides the final lock shut, a loud throat clearing takes him by surprise, and he jumps up with his hands in a fight position. the sight of you leaning against the now open staff door behind the bar has him relaxing, but it’s too late; your arms are crossed over your chest and a very amused grin plays on your red lips at his ridiculous boxing stance.

“you scared the fuck out of me,” tom breathes, taking out the rag he slides into the belt loops of his trousers. wiping the closest table, he watches as you move to lean forward against the bar, giving him a better view of your cleavage.

“oops,” you say, tone utterly remorseless. “i’m not keeping you from work, am i?”

as if that’s ever stopped you before. tom shakes his head, pointing to the empty room. “just closing up for the day. what are you doing here, accepting an oscar?”

you snort, teasingly striking a pose. the gown you’re wearing probably costs more than his car; long, black, and shimmery. it’s sleeveless, a sweetheart neckline highlighting your chest and collarbones. “no, just a little gathering for one of daddy’s new sponsors.” you answer, shrugging casually as though it’s something everyone does once in a while. in your world, that’s the case, tom reminds himself with a bite to his inner cheek.

“had the time of your life, i gather?” he grins when you roll your eyes and mime a gun to your forehead. “nobody talks about the struggles of girls like you. poor princess.”

even several feet away from you, he notices the way your eyes darken at the pet name, and it fills his chest with pride. good, you’re not the only one who can tease.

“yeah, well, just wanted to see if you’re up to anything before i go home.” liar.

leaving the rag behind, tom walks decisively towards the bar, delighting in the way you take a step back when he’s right in front of you. “you’re sure no one saw you coming in here?” he asks, gaze flickering across your expression.

you nod, breath hitching in your throat at the intensity of his honeyed eyes. “i left out of the front door, walked to the end of the block, and entered the staff door through the alley.” you recount, like a kid reciting a memorised poem with pride.

“good girl,” voice raspy as it utters two of your favourite words, tom closes the cap between you, hands sliding around your waist. your chests press together a second before your lips do, and you skip the chaste kisses phase to get straight to open-mouthed, heavy-tongued ones.

your fingers disappear into his hair, the gel he coats it with tired after a long shift, and you work it off his curls pleasantly. moaning into your mouth, tom’s hands crawl up your bare back, drawing shivers along your smooth skin. one of your palms leaves his head, trailing up his uncovered forearms and into his blazer when tom wraps you tighter in his embrace. your heeled legs wrap around his hips as he lifts you up, holding you in place for a brief moment as you break the kiss and dive into his thick neck, before placing you on the counter.

the heat of your tongue sears his sensitive skin as you lick across tom’s adam apple, sucking on the junction of his throat and neck. breathless, his hands cup your face, mashing your unfurled mouths together in another passionate kiss. teeth clashing, tongues fighting, shaky groans floating across the charged air between you.

as thought it physically pains him to do it, tom sighs and moves a hair’s width away, putting an end to your intertwined state. he looks down to your lap, jaw clenching when he notices the slits in your gown that show your thighs and legs in your seat position, with his hips holding them apart. a slow smile curls on your lips when he places his palms on your skin, one of your hands falling on his wrist to draw figures on his strong forearm with the tips of your fingers. the other cups his cheek, raising his head up to lock your eyes.

“i missed you this week,” you whisper, honesty dripping from your words like tequila into a shot glass.

tom’s features soften at your confession, and he squeezes your thigh, bumping the tip of your nose with his. “missed you too, princess.” he mumbles back, although there’s no one around to overhear. “you’ve been busy, huh?”

“my mum’s on my ass about a charity gala we’re supposed to cohost, yet somehow all the work’s fallen into my lap.” despite the annoyance of your statement, your voice is gentle and sweet, in tune with the back and forth movement of your thumb on the apple of his cheek. “i wished i were with you every single day, though. i can’t wait until my parents fuck off to bali next week and you can have me all to yourself again.”

the grin that spreads on his face is completely shameless, like he’s swallowed a hanger, and he locks an arm around your waist, dragging you closer to the edge of the bar. “all to myself… i really like the sound of that, sweetheart.” tom mutters, taking your bottom lip between his teeth for a split second. “as much as i love quickies in the elevator, i just wanna watch a bloody film with you and go to sleep like a regular couple.”

your heart thuds a bit faster when he refers to the both of you as a couple, and you try not to show just how flustered the label’s gotten you. it’s not like you and tom haven’t been exclusive for a few months now, but your situation is so precarious—all the secrecy and running around and scheduling brief moments to meet in between the chaos of your individual lives… it’s just hard to define your arrangement. you can’t even express in words how much it means to you that tom is the one who breaks that barrier for you, and he does so casually, like you’re the only one who’s been obsessing over the seriousness of your relationship this whole time. knowing how head empty he can be, you probably are the only one who’s taken notice of this dilemma.

“i really want that too,” you giggle timidly, laying a kiss on his chin, “especially now that i know, thanks to harrison, you’ve cried while watching notting hill.”

tom throws his head back with a groan, though the corner of his lips fight to curve at the sound of your dulcet laughter. “why would he even tell you that? you’re both obsessed with me.” he jokes, rolling his eyes like a dramatic teenager.

“i’m not obsessed with you, tommy,” grinning, you take his hand into yours and bring it to your chest. “i’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

cheeks flushing a furious pink, tom’s mouth dries at the sweet nickname you address him with, before he bites on his lip and looks at you with the most vivid adoration you’ve ever seen. “don’t worry, the boy’s well on his way to loving you.”

[weelittleweasley]

my girl (f.w.)

prompt: you always knew fred would be a great dad and every day he exceeds your expectations

pairing: dad! fred x mom! reader

warnings: pregnancy, hospitals, children (yes, children is a warning), mild language, suggestion and brief mention of sex, thunderstorm, fear of thunder/rain.

word count: 6.2k

author’s note: THIS BITCH SO LONG IM SO SORRY this is the last installment of the 60s writing challenge!! thank you to everyone who has tuned in!!

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog​ @kaseyrose96-blog​ @hufflepuff5972 @valwritesx @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley​ @amourtentiaa @sweeterthansammy​ @gryffindcrghost​ @wand3ringr0s3​

It was laughable; the way Fred stared at your large pregnant belly with eyes full of anticipation, hands placed on either sides of it, waiting for your child to kick at his hands. You giggled as he gently whispered to your protruding stomach, “Come on, little one. It’s your daddy. Give us a little kick, yeah?” Your stomach remained still as he lightly groaned, only making you laugh. “This child already likes keeping me on my wit’s end,” he grumbled before kissing your belly. “I’m just teasing,” he whispered again to the bump. “I love you so much.”

You brush your fingers through Fred’s hair, him sighing as you do. Fred had been so darling over the past nine months of your pregnancy. He found more staff for the joke shoppe to take over the early morning shifts and the night shifts so he could spend those hours taking care of you, helping around the house, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. You were always Fred’s number one priority, but that was set in stone after you became pregnant. He would literally drop anything if you even murmured that you needed something. Fred would wake up first and get your prenatal vitamins ready for you to drink with a large glass of water, he’d make breakfast, clean the kitchen, and only then would he wake you up. You had to admit, you could get used to living like this. But alas, you were past your due date and the baby was expected any day now.

“She loves you too, Freddie,” you tell him as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at your husband who still rubs his hands over your stomach, searching for your unborn baby’s feet.

Fred looks up at you with questioning eyes. “She?” Fred could honestly care less about the sex of his child, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s all he could truly ask for. But secretly, deep down, Fred wanted a little girl, a princess. Someone who could be his princess since he had already found his queen.

You smiled with a shrug, “I have a feeling. I know it’s supposed to be a surprise, but when you know you know, don’t you?”

With that, against the skin of your stomach, pressed against Fred’s hand is two large kicks. Fred’s eyes widen as he sits up, feeling his child kick against his hands as the two of you laugh. Fred smiles wide and says, “Is that a sign?” he stares up at you with excited eyes as you cover your mouth laughing with glee. “Is that right, baby? A little girl?” he whispers to your belly, earning another two strong kicks as the two of you laugh out with delight. “A little princess and a strong one at that!” he cheers. “We’ve got a little football player on our hands, don’t we? Well, too bad, because your daddy is going to teach you all about quidditch.”

-------

The hospital room was quiet, no one daring to disturb the air that surrounded the newborn baby girl that was fast asleep on your chest. Her plump cheeks squished against your bare chest made you and Fred smile with delight. A healthy baby girl born after a brutally long labor, but it was all worth it. You softly kissed the top of her head, making her stir in her sleep. 

You looked over at Fred to see him, gently wipe tears from his eyes as he gazed upon your newborn daughter. In this room, he had everything he’d ever wanted. The sight of your husband looking so lovingly at your daughter made your heart swell as you felt hot tears prick up behind your eyes. Reaching out, you cupped Freddie’s cheek as brushed away with happy tears with your thumb. Freddie looked up at you with eyes so tender and a smile so warm, you giggled out a sob. “She’s perfect,” he quietly spoke to you as you nodded your head in agreement. 

She really was the most precious thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her button nose and soft features rested upon her gentle skin, tufts of strawberry blonde hair poking out from the cap the hospital dressed her in. Her lips were pink and squished against your chest as small dreaming noises escaped now and again. Your darling little girl, your little flower.

“Daisy,” you spoke softly to Fred as you brushed your daughter’s cheek softly.

The two of you had spoke about what to name the baby for a while, a few names tossed around here and there, but none of them felt right. Until Daisy popped into your head.

Fred nodded his head with a happy smile, “Yeah.” In her sleep, the baby stirred at the sound of Fred’s voice, making him scoot impossibly closer to the hospital bed, leaning close to his daughter. “How do you like that, love bug?” he cooed at the sleeping baby on your chest. “Daisy,” he smiled to himself. “I love you so much. You’re going to give mommy a run for her money,” he joked, making you roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle. Fred looked up at you and placed a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t believe we made something as perfect as she is,” he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You smiled at your husband and sighed. The man before you was so perfect, helplessly in love with you and the child you created. Slowly, you peeled sleeping Daisy off of your chest and handed her over to an eager Fred, scooping her in his arms, cradling the baby close to his chest. Fred cooed down at his baby who slowly fluttered her eyes open, peering her dark eyes, that looked so like Fred’s, up at him. You laid back in the hospital bed, relaxing as you watched Fred murmur to Daisy, speaking gently and kissing her forehead and nose every now and again. As if you couldn’t fall more in love with Fred, watching him become a father was enough to make you fall in love fifty more times. 

Fred rose from the chair he was sat in and started walking around the hospital room, rocking the baby and talking to her about the life she was going to have. “Just wait until Uncle George gets his hands on you,” he whispered as you silently laughed. “Grandma Molly is going to spoil the hell out of you,” he shook his head for his eyes widened and he looked at you. “I shouldn’t curse in front of our baby, should I?” he asks as you shake your head. “Damn it,” he curses again as he winces. “I’ll stop now,” he huffs making you laugh as your eyes feel heavy. The long labor had you exhausted and you had been up with Daisy feeding her and watching her alongside Fred. “Darling,” Fred cooed at you, “get some rest, please. I’ve got Daisy and she’s not due for another feeding for some time. You need to get some rest,” he tells you, walking over to the bed, helping pull the sheets up to cover you as you look up at his handsome face. “I’ll take care of our baby. Don’t worry.”

With a teasing sleepy smile on your face, you say, “I don’t know how much I trust you with a newborn child.” Fred gives you a look, making you chuckle. “I’m kidding, love, I’m kidding.” Fred kisses your forehead, your nose, and then your lips gently, him rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Fred speaks before placing another kiss to your lips softly. He sits himself in the chair again, Daisy looking sleepy again herself. He sighs before clearing his throat and gently starting to sing a melody that sounded all too familiar to you. “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day,” he sings, making your heart flutter in your chest. “When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May,” his voice is soothing, the vibrations from his chest calming Daisy down and putting her in a sleepy trance. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” his deep voice sings the familiar love song.

Fred looks at you as you watch him with a small smile on your face, tears welling up in your eyes. He was singing your wedding song to your baby. It felt like a dream. Being married to the man you’ve always loved, seeing him cradle your beautiful baby girl in his arms, singing the song you would dance to as teenagers. It was unreal, but somehow, you were lucky enough to be living in it.

“I got so much honey, the bees envy me. I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees,” he continues to sing along, slowly putting both you and Daisy to sleep as you flutter your eyes closed, happy and safe.

-----------

The drive back from the hospital was slow. Fred insisting on not driving faster than twenty miles an hour even though the speed limit was thirty. This caused many cars on the road to change lanes and shoot Fred dirty looks. 

“Fred, honey, you can drive faster than this. She’s in a car seat, strapped in very well as you made sure of before we left the hospital, and the road is very clear considering everyone has driven around you,” you tell him from the passenger seat.

He shakes his head, “No way. I am remaining as safe as humanly possible. Can’t risk putting my little flower petal in harm’s way.”

But eventually, you arrived back to your house where your friends and family awaited your arrival patiently. You turned the keys in the lock and pushed the door open, Fred following closely behind you with Daisy in her carrier. “We’re home,” you sing song out at the bunches of people who awaited your arrival in your home.

Everyone rises from the couches and chairs in your home, big smiles on their faces when they see you, Fred, and Daisy enter the door. Molly gasps and covers her mouth, tears already welling up in her eyes as Fred sighs. “Ron! Mum is already crying, you owe me two galleon!” George calls out. “I call holding it first!” George calls out.

“It?” Ginny makes fun of her brother with a light chuckle as Ron cackles from the other side of the couch, earning a pillow toss in the face from George. “I reckon I should hold the baby first considering I am going to be the godmother, right, (Y/N)?” Ginny asks.

George lets out a laugh, “Hilarious, Ginny. Last time I checked it was my twin who had the baby. Surely, I will be the godparent and the first one to hold it.”

“Stop calling the baby it!” Ginny reprimands him. “The baby is a...wait, you never told us what the baby’s sex is,” Ginny looks to you and Fred as the two of you are too preoccupied laughing at the antics of the group already. You weren’t even home five minutes and there was already arguing. “So?”

You look to Fred, giving him the honor of announcing the baby’s sex. “Everyone will get a turn holding her,” he announces as Ginny cheers out in victory, Ron owing George another two galleons, as Molly and Hermione squeal in excitement. “But who ever holds her first needs to wash their hands. I don’t want any dirty paws on my perfect baby girl,” he coos into the carrier before you take off the buckle and scoop Daisy into your arms as she stretches in your arms.

Ginny and George both make a mad dash to the sink, pushing the other out of their ways, trying to wash their hands first. You shake your head with a chuckle, and look down at your baby girl who is fast asleep still, still too young to understand the chaos of a family she was born into. 

Molly laughs and speaks, “While those two battle of the soap, little do they know I already washed and sanitized my hands when I came in.” You laugh, knowing Molly Weasley came prepared to be the first one to hold her grandchild. 

“Wait,” Fred stops his mother before you can pass the baby over to her. He pulls a vile of hand sanitizer from his pocket and squirts two drops in his mother’s hands, just in case. You slap his arm. “What? Can’t be too safe,” he defends himself. After Molly rubs in the gel, she looks at her son, giving him a sarcastic look. “Alright, now you can hold her,” he speaks as Molly rolls her eyes as you gently place Daisy in her arms.

Molly looks down at the newest addition to the Weasley family and her lights light up. Arthur looks over her shoulder and smiles softly at the beautiful babe in Molly’s arms. “She’s just a doll, isn’t she?” Arthur whispers as Molly cradles your daughter in her arms.

George and Ginny race back into the living room only to find their mother holding Daisy instead of one of them. George groans as Ginny defeatedly flops on the couch. “Snooze you lose, children,” she teases with a smile and George mimics her before flopping on the couch next to Ginny and Harry. Molly looks back at you and Fred with a big smile. “Well done, you two,” she beams as Fred hugs you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head. “She’s simply beautiful.”

“Thank you, Molly,” you smile. “So, do you lot want to know her name?” you ask the group, earning a symphony of yes’s and please’s. You look up at Fred who gives you an encouraging nod. With a gulp, you reveal, “Her name is Daisy.” Hermione smiles widely and claps her hands excitedly. “Daisy Ginevra Weasley,” you finish.

Ginny’s eyes widen in shock at the baby’s middle name. It was important to both you and Fred that you had a family name in there besides the surname. You were insistent on giving Daisy Ginny’s name as her middle name. Ginny played a big factor in why you and Fred got together and she was always there for you every step of your relationship. It only seemed right to name your child after her. “You...you named her after me?” Ginny asks in disbelief as you and Fred nod your heads. “Bloody hell,” she whispers with a smile, tears making her eyes glassy, but she pushes them down with a shake of her head. “I don’t know what to say. I...” Ginny searches for the words, but just ends up running over to you and embracing you and Fred in the tightest hug. 

You laugh and give her a squeeze before holding her face in your hands. “You’re my sister, Gin. It only made sense to name our first daughter after someone who means so much to the both of us,” you tell Ginny as she smiles, tears now spilling from her eyes. You wipe away the tears with your thumbs as Fred places a kiss to his sister’s forehead.

Ginny laughs before punching Fred’s arm teasingly. “Merlin, you lot have made me soft,” she wipes her tears with a sniffle, making you and Fred laugh. Molly walks over to her daughter and puts Daisy in her arms as Ginny gasps and holds the baby close to her chest. “Hello, little one,” she whispers as Fred holds you in his arms, smiling wide as he watches his little sister hold his daughter. The sight was enough to make you cry again. The person who had been so influential in you and Fred’s relationship was now holding your first born child. “Reckon you have quite a beautiful middle name, eh?” she laughs before taking a seat next to Harry on the couch.

“Georgina also has a nice ring to it. Daisy Georgina Weasley. It’s not too late, you know,” George tells you and Fred, making you laugh and Ginny give him a dirty look.

“Shut it, you wanker,” she whispers through gritted teeth. 

“Ah, ah, ah! No swearing in front of the baby!” George tsks his sister before looking at you and Fred. “You don’t want a godparent who swears in front of children, now do you?” he continues to push Ginny’s buttons as she rolls her eyes, but continues to coo at Daisy who peels her eyes open and peers up at Ginny.

Fred walks towards George who sits in the living room chair and speaks, “Funny you should mention that. (Y/N) and I have both gone back and forth about this for a long while. And we decided that if anything should happen to either of us, we would want you to raise Daisy, George.” George’s eyes widen in disbelief as he looks back and forth between you and Fred as you smile widely. It was a no brainer deciding who Daisy’s godparent would be. George was the first person to know when you were pregnant, he made sure the joke shoppe could function the same now with Fred as a dad, he baby proofed his flat months in advance for Daisy’s arrival. George would be a great uncle and godfather to your child. “What do you say, Georgie?” Fred asks.

George engulfs Fred in a massive bear hug, making your heart swell as Molly wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into her side. Today was surely one of the best days of your life, watching your family care for this new life with so much love and tenderness. George pulls away from Fred with tears in his eyes, clearing his throat, and speaking, “Of course. Yeah, ‘course I will. If anyone lays a finger on that child consider them dead meat.” Fred laughs and hugs his brother again, the two of them sharing a tender moment.

Ginny rises from the couch and with a smile, passes Daisy over to her godfather and uncle. George holds Daisy with utmost care and carefulness. He carefully sits down and smiles at the small baby in his arms. “Hey, peanut. I’m your Uncle Georgie,” he smiles down at Daisy who yawns and stretches in his arms, pushing off her hospital cap in the process to reveal her tufts of strawberry blonde hair. “Ah, the Weasley signature,” George laughs. “Sorry about that one, (Y/N),” he winks as you laugh, sitting on the couch with Ginny’s legs folded over your lap as she kisses your cheek. “Godric, she’s beautiful, Freddie,” George gushes. “You’re gonna be a heart breaker, kid. Just like your mum before she met your dear old dad. You know it took him three times before she finally said yes to go out with him?”

“Alright, no need to embarrass me in front of my three day old child,” Fred laughs, sitting on the arm of the chair.

The whole lot of you sits in the living room, quite still, watching Daisy as she gets passed around the room, each person interacting with her, cooing at her. When she gets passed around to Ron and Hermione, Ron huffs, “So, Ginny is her namesake, George is her godparent, does that make me the cool uncle?” 

With a laugh, you shake your head, “Absolutely. Every kid needs a cool uncle and aunt.”

Ron smiles, “Wicked.” 

Hermione coos at Daisy, Ron gently brushing her cheek with his forefinger as Daisy yawns widely. “You are a darling,” Hermione blushes to the baby before looking at Ron with pleading eyes.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I have the daunting job of being cool uncle. Let me get that job done first before we get involved with something else,” he warns as Hermione laughs along with the rest of the group.

You look over to Fred who is already looking at you, love plaguing his eyes as you sigh happily. He smiles at you gently before mouthing an I love you, you reciprocating the action. Everything in this moment felt so right, so perfect.

----------

“You’re coming over for dinner on Wednesday, right?” Ginny confirms with you as Harry helps her into her coat, baby Lily on Ginny’s hip.

Everyone had come over for Sunday dinner at you and Fred’s house, like every other week. But as the years went by, the dinner guest list had changed and adapted to include more people. Harry and Ginny’s first child as well as Ron and Hermione’s first child became a part of the guest list along with Angelina as she was now engaged to George. It was always something to look forward to at the end of the weekend, having family over. Not to mention, Daisy was obsessed with her cousins. 

“Of course. I don’t think Daisy would let us miss it,” you tell Ginny as you kiss Harry and Ginny goodbye. “Dee! Come say goodbye Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry!” you call out to your daughter who is still running around with James, Albus, Rose, and Hugo. 

Daisy, now three years old, whines, “I don’t want to say goodbye, Mummy!” She stomps her foot in protest and folds her arms in protest. Daisy loved every moment she spent with her family which only made you and Fred happier. Family was so important to the two of you and the fact that her best friends where her cousins always warmed your hearts. 

You smiled at your daughter and replied, “I know, darling. But you’ll see everyone again on Wednesday when we visit Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry’s house.”

Ginny chimes in, “And when you come over, I’ll let you wear my quidditch gloves like last time. How does that sound?”

Daisy’s face lights up and she immediately runs over to Ginny and hugs her legs as Ginny scoops her up and peppers her face with kisses as Daisy laughs wildly. Daisy looked up to Ginny. She always told you and Fred how much she wanted to be like her and play quidditch and fly around on a broom and win all of the games. She even started to demand being called by her middle name and not her first name, but you compromised with Daisy Gin.

Ginny places Daisy back down before calling out, “Alright, Potters! Let’s get a move on. You boys both need a bath,” she huffs when she sees chocolate smeared over both of her boy’s faces as they giggle wildly, running to Harry as he scoops up Albus and sets him on his hip. “Maybe if Uncle Fred didn’t let you eat half of the sweets bin, you wouldn’t need a third bath today,” she speaks, ruffling her hands in James’ hair, giving Fred the stink eye.

“Cool uncles let their cool nephews eat a bit of chocolate now and again, isn’t that right, James?” Fred asks, James fist bumping him in response with a wide grin. 

The Potters leave the house with a final round of goodbyes and kisses before Ron and Hermione follow suit, putting on jackets. Hermione bundles Hugo up in his rain boots and rain coat as Rose appears at your feet. “Auntie (Y/N), can Daisy and I have a sleepover again?” she asks, batting her eyes at you with the most devious smile she could conjure up.

Ron rubs his face, “Sweet Merlin, Rose, you are trouble with a capital t.”

You laugh and give Rose a kiss on her forehead, “Of course we can. How about next week you can sleepover here and we can go pancakes in the morning like last time?” Rose’s eyes widen as she and Daisy squeal with excitement. 

“Come on, darling,” Hermione calls over to Rose, holding her hand out for Rose to take. “Thanks again, dinner was delicious, (Y/N),” Hermione kisses your cheek goodbye. 

“Don’t mention it,” you speak. “We’re still on for drinks with Luna on Friday, right?” you ask as she nods excitedly. “Brilliant. That means cool uncle and cool dad are in charge of the kids,” you beam before giving Ron and hug goodbye.

Ron laughs, “Coolest uncle. I’ve been promoted.” You chuckle before waving goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and the kids. This just left George and Angelina which was always the toughest part of the night.

George slips on his coat as Angelina follows, before he calls out. “Alright, my flower,” he speaks. “Hit me with your best one.” He holds out his arms as Daisy giggles, running into his arms and throws her arms around his neck as George picks her up and swings her around, making Daisy squeal. “Oh, Uncle Georgie loves you so much,” he kisses her cheeks before blowing fart noises in her neck, making her laugh even harder. “I’ve got a proposal for you, my darling. How about little Daisy here helps up open up the shop next Saturday? Teach her about the family business?” he tickles her sides as Daisy giggles, Angelina watching her fiancé lovingly as he entertains the child with ease. “What do you say, (Y/N)? Dad will be there to make sure Uncle George doesn’t corrupt the child,” he teases as you roll your eyes.

You sigh and look at your husband and brother in law. “Yeah, alright,” you comply as Daisy cheers while George spins her around in victory. “Only if that means Angie and I get to have a night out on Saturday.”

Angelina laughs in agreement. “Absolutely. And it’s you lot’s treat,” she adds as you smile before giving her a hug and kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, (Y/N). Thank you again for dinner.”

You watch as George dances around with Daisy, her smiling widely. George was a brilliant uncle and godfather. He was always willing to drop anything when you or Fred needed some help with her. Not to mention, he never minded playing babysitter when you and Fred needed a night alone. 

Fred sighed, “Alright, Daisy Gin, time for a bath and bed. You’ve had a long day.”

“No!” she protests, wrapping her arms tighter around George’s neck, pressing her cheek against his as George laughs. 

Fred pretends to gasp, “What do you mean no?”

“Uncle Georgie stays with me!” she demands. “And Auntie Angie!” 

Fred’s heart swells at how much his young daughter loved his twin and his soon to be wife. “I know you want them to stay, my petal, but it’s time for bed. Besides, we’ll see Uncle George and Auntie Angie on Wednesday,” he tells your three year old as she pouts.

George speaks, “Hey, don’t be upset. That’s very soon. And besides, next time I see you, I’ll have a surprise...” This makes Daisy’s eyes light up with joy and clap her hands. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you bunches.”

“Love you,” Daisy smiles in her tiny voice as George places a kiss to her cheek, Angelina placing another kiss to her opposite cheek, making Daisy giggle. Daisy is handed off to Fred as the last couple leaves with another round of hugs and kisses.

“Get home safe! And be careful on the roads! It’s supposed to storm tonight!” Fred calls out as George and Angelina hop into their car with another wave. Fred closes the door with a sigh. Now it was just you, him, and Daisy. “Alright, you,” he teases Daisy who smiles. “I think it’s time for you to take a bath,” he scoops your daughter up into his arms, taking one of her bare feet in his hand, lifting it up to his nose. He feigns disgust. “Those stink, Daisy Gin!” he exclaims as Daisy giggles. “Mummy, we’ve got a 2342! Stinky feet!”

You gasp, “A 2342?!” Daisy laughs louder. “Get her in the bath! Stat!”

With that, Fred runs up the stairs and to the bathroom as Daisy shrieks with delight as you can’t help but chuckle. Even the simplest things Fred made fun. Each day with Fred as the father of your child was an adventure. He made the simple days extraordinary and the extraordinary days out of this world. He was the center of Daisy’s world; that baby girl loved her father more than anything. Sometimes it made you a little jealous, how much she adored Fred, but you couldn’t stay mad for too long. It was just so damned adorable how she stared up at Fred with so much idolization. 

From your bedroom, you could hear Fred and Daisy sing nursery rhymes in the bath, Fred doing silly voices which only made Daisy giggle. The sang, they counted, talked about animals, and colors. Each babbling conversation made your heart swell with love. 

“Mummy!” you hear Daisy call from her bedroom. 

“Coming, my peanut!” 

You walked down the hall and into Daisy’s room, decorated in white and yellow flowers on the walls with a bookcase filled with books and toys, and her small bed with sheets adorned with Holyhead Harpies sheets as per Daisy’s request. She sat on the bed, wrapped in her towel, waiting for you to change her into pajamas. It was your favorite part of the day.

You smiled at your daughter with freshly washed hair, wrapped in a green towel. “There’s my flower,” you smiled as Daisy kicked her legs excitedly. “What pajamas are we wearing tonight? Your Harpies pajamas are in the wash, but you have your daisy pajamas from Uncle Neville and your rainbow pajamas from Auntie Luna.” Daisy thinks for a moment before requesting her daisy pajamas from Neville. 

As you change your daughter into fresh pajamas, you listen to her babble about how much fun she had with her cousins and how she couldn’t wait for Wednesday. You smiled to yourself, still wondering how you were so lucky to get the sweetest, most darling little girl in the world as your daughter. You brushed her hair gently before plaiting her red hair that matched Fred’s into two pigtail plaits. Daisy smiled at herself in the mirror as you peppered her right cheek with kisses making her giggle. “I love you, Daisy Gin,” you tell her.

“I love you, Mummy,” she bats her eyelashes, looking up at you with those big chocolate brown eyes that so resembled Fred’s. All of Daisy reminded you of Fred. From her hair to her eyes to the way she spoke, it was all so Fred which only made you love your little tike more fiercely. 

You carried her back to bed, tucking her in her sheets before calling out for Fred. Within seconds, Fred appeared with a smile on his face. “Bedtime for my princess,” he smiles before kneeling next to you at her bedside. “Goodnight, my baby,” he kisses her forehead as Daisy closes her eyes with a smile.

“I’m not a baby!” she protests. “I’m a big girl! Like Auntie Ginny!” 

Fred smiles as you laugh. “Oh, pardon me! Goodnight, my big girl,” he corrects himself as you lean over and give your baby a kiss on the forehead. 

You run your finger through the loose strands of hair that are wispy around her face. “Sweet dreams, my girl,” you speak softly.

“Goodnight, Mummy,” she speaks sweetly, enough to make your heart burst. “Goodnight, Daddy,” she coos at Fred who smiles.

The two of you shut the lights and shut the door gently. You and Fred make your way into your bedroom, getting ready for bed yourselves. As Fred shuts the door behind him, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as you sigh. He presses a trial of kisses up your neck as you smile. “She’s getting so big,” you whine, turning around and facing Fred. He places a chaste kiss to your lips.

Fred sighs. It was true. Daisy was growing up way too fast for your liking. It was exciting, watching her become her own person. But at the same time, you loved her at this age. How small and confident she was. How she thought she was so in control. It was adorable. “I don’t like thinking about it too much,” he confesses. “But...” he trails off before starting to unbutton the buttons of your shirt. “We could prevent that...if we had another...” he suggests as you smirk. “It’s been nearly three years. Don’t you think we deserve another one?” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Another baby to keep Daisy company...”

You shake your head, “Fred Weasley, you are relentless.” You press a kiss to his lips and Fred deepens it, kissing you slowly and tenderly as you gently moan into his mouth. He smirks as he pushes the shirt you wear off your body. Quickly pulling away, you look at him. “Are you sure she’s asleep already? I don’t need our daughter walking in on a situation neither of us want to explain to a three year old,” you tell him.

Fred huffs before kissing you again, mumbling against your lips. “I’m sure.” You give him a knowing look as he groans, “Fine. I’ll lock the door. But you better get your ass in that bed.”

You giggle as Fred runs to the door, locking it as you crawl into the bed, a little too excited.

----------

A few hours later, you and Fred are fast asleep, Fred shirtless, arm draped around your torso as you wear his shirt to sleep. The sounds of rain hitting the window sound through the master bedroom, the occasional rumble of thunder here and there. To you and Fred, the rain always helped you sleep, but the youngest Weasley disagreed.

Slowly, the bedroom door creaked open further. She held onto her hippogriff plushie tightly, eyes full of worry. “Mummy?” she quietly asked into the room as you stirred in your sleep, slowly recognizing the voice. “Mummy? Daddy?” she called out again.

You woke up, sitting up straight to see your baby girl standing in the door way, fear in her eyes as she clung onto her plushie. Thunder rumbled outside as Daisy gasped, scared of the noise. “Daisy? Baby, what’s wrong, petal?” you asks, sleep laced in your voice.

She ran to the side of the bed as lightning flashed, you scooping her up in your arms as she held onto you tight, shivering lightly. Sadness coursed through your body as you realized your baby was afraid of the storm that was outside. “Aw, my flower,” you cooed as you rocked her back and forth, her sniffling into your chest. “It’s okay, my love,” you speak, kissing her head.

Fred rubs his eyes and realizing that his daughter was crying into his wife’s chest. Panic rises in Fred’s voice, “Is she alright? Do I need to call a Healer? Muggle doctor?” 

You shake your head no. “Our little Daisy Gin is afraid of the storm,” you whisper to Fred who nods his head. “It’s alright, baby. Mummy and Daddy are here,” you flip yourself around so Daisy can see her father. “See? We’re here, petal. Everything is alright.”

Daisy sniffles as she looks at Fred and gives him a timid wave. Fred smiles sadly at his princess and speaks, “Hello, flower. The rain woke you up, huh?” Daisy nods her head. “Bloody rain. Should I yell at the rain? And tell it to stop bothering us?” he asks, still groggy, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

Daisy giggles and nods her head as Fred rises from the bed and walks over to the window, opening it up mid-storm despite your protests. He sticks his head out of the window and screams out, “Hey! Rain! Go away!” 

Your daughter laughs madly in your arms as you can’t help but chuckle. Surely the neighbors think you have lost your minds. Fred shuts the window and climbs back into bed as you and Daisy’s laughter fades. However, the laughter is replaced with another shriek from Daisy as lightning strikes and thunder rumbles. She retreats further into your chest as you rub her back, kissing her head. 

An idea pops into Fred’s head as he opens his arms for Daisy to curl into. He clears his throat and starts, “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.” Your heart instantly melts at the sound of Fred singing to your daughter like he did the day she was born in the hospital three years ago. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl,” he sings as he looks to you to join him.

“Talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” you join Fred as the three of you lay in the bed, Daisy cuddled in between the two of you, her sniffles fading. You continue to sing until her eyes start to flutter close and her mouth emits small snores. Slowly, you fade out as she is soundly asleep. Fred brushes his little girl’s hair out of her face with a soft smile. You are too occupied looking at Fred and how he stares at your daughter, your heart racing. As if he couldn’t be a better dad.

Fred looks at you with a smile. “I love you,” you tell him with a small shake of your head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more, my dear,” he speaks before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. “You’re my world. The two of you complete me. My girls.”

With that, you and Fred cuddle up to your sleeping daughter, falling asleep to the sounds of the rain.

[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. 

[moonlit-imagines]

Cover-Up

Avengers x teen!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt:

Thin ice.

That’s what Secretary Ross had said to you the last time you spoke. You’re on thin ice, kid.

Why did he choose to threaten you like that? Because you were iffy on the Accords. That was all it took. He was threatening your position as an Avenger, one you had fought so hard to secure. And there were still hurdles you hadn’t quite hopped yet, being the youngest on the team and all. A “kid” to them.

One strike and you were out, they warned you some years ago, but did you listen?

No, that’s why you were standing in an evacuated airport with Steve and the sensible half of the gang. Guard up, morale down...but you suppose that your expectations were the same.

“Y/N, you really need to rethink this one before it’s too late.” Tony had warned you, but you were so goddamned sick of being warned. You knew exactly what you were doing and you were not going to be stopped, it was time for them to stop pretending like you needed constant guidance.

“Do I, Tony?” You crossed your arms and tapped your foot on the pavement, just on the verge of snapping. “Have some faith in me, why don’t you? Who’s got a better track record of thinking things through: me or you?”

“Seriously, kid, you’re putting everything in jeopardy.” He sounded serious, that was new. “If you get stuck on the wrong side of this, it’s no more avenging for you.”

“Is that a threat?” You raised your eyebrows as Steve glanced at you, making sure that you weren’t having second thoughts. Yeah, right.

“That’s a promise.” Tony honestly looked a little scared. He should be. “Do you remember how hard it was to get you on the team? You were a child—still are, might I add! They said you didn’t belong out here, we said you did. I’m beginning to regret that now.”

“You’re saying they’re gonna demote me?” Could he tell you were stalling? Oof, guess you’ll know soon enough.

“Demote you?” Tony repeated back. “I wish that were it, y/n. You’re gonna get canned, blacklisted. They’re gonna make your life a living hell. You really want to give it all up now? You’ve come so far, don’t throw it all away over Steve’s sentiment.” You’d heard enough of that, now it was time to lose your cool.

“This isn’t all about helping Steve,” you told him while raising your fists, ready to cause some chaos, “I’m sick of taking the fall for you.” Tony rolled his eyes and finally called for backup.

“Underoos!” A blur of red flew in front of you and Steve, disarming your counterpart before the kid rambled an introduction that sounded a bit...off.

“Are you kidding me, Tony? You give me shit for being a kid and then recruit a twelve year old?” You groaned and watched the kid’s masked eyes get wide. “Don’t correct me, bugboy, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well, he’s on my side so I’m cutting him some slack.” Tony justified his reasoning as you waited just a few more seconds for Scott to get into position.

“That’s enough, are we ready yet? This is starting to get boring.” And then all hell broke loose as Steve got free of webs, Scott threw the first punch, and the rest of your teams took off. That was your chance to strike Tony with a bolt of lightning in an attempt to shut down his suit, but he always had contingencies.

“Nice one, y/n, but I installed a surge protector after the last time!” Tony blasted at you with his repulsors set to stun, only missing you by a hair.

“Oh, yeah? You get one for Rhodes, too?” You asked, switching your aim to the War Machine armor and overloading it until it shut down.

“Seriously, Tony? You didn’t think to upgrade mine, too?” Rhodey groaned while rushing to reboot.

“Get over it!” Tony bickered as you ran by, booking it for the Quinjet. “Vision, don’t let y/n get away!” And then the android was flying towards you.

“I can’t let you go any further, y/n.” He informed, blocking your path and giving you a moment to catch your breath. “It’s not too late to change sides. You could help us all stay together. After all, that’s what we all want.” You took a glimpse behind you at all of your feuding loved ones who were beating each other senseless and although you hated to see it, you would not be backing down so easily.

“I’m not risking innocent lives to stay roommates.” You gave him a quick jolt that’d incapacitate him just long enough for you to escape his grasp, but it wasn’t long before the team called upon you for help.

“Y/N, I need backup!” Steve called over the comms.

“On my way, Cap!” You doubled back and met up with the rest of your team, knowing that this battle had only begun. You looked down the line of allies you had and looked across to allies you’d lost, knowing that this day would change your life forever.

“You guys ready?” You sighed, charging up your fists and deciding on a target.

“Ready for what?” Scott asked as the two lines of super-people began to converge. “Oh, that.” You all picked up the pace and you decided to take the fight to the kid since he’d been causing enough trouble.

“Woah! What was that for?!” He yelped when you gave him a little shock and rubbed is arm. “Am I gonna have a heart attack?”

“You’ll be fine,” you scoffed, still ready to strike again if need be, “and it’s just business, kid. Tony should have known better than to get you involved.”

“Well, Mr. Stark made me this really cool suit, so I’m not complaining.” He shrugged before shooting a web from each wrist, but he’d regret it just as quickly as he acted since you accidentally sent two charges back up the web, sending him flying back.

“Oops...” You covered your mouth and watched to make sure he got back up, or maybe you did give him a heart attack. No, he was getting back up. “Are you good?” You called over.

“Yeah, I’m good!” He gave you a thumbs up and crouched over to catch his breath.

“Just walk it off, kid!” You reused some old advice and were suddenly called on by the person who gave it.

“Y/N, it’s now or never!” You swiveled your head to see Steve and Bucky make a break for it and decided that it was time for you to do the same, so you ran straight past the kid and tried to keep up with the two super soldiers. Thankfully, Wanda gave you a boost so you didn’t get left behind. After Natasha let you past, you and just two of your teammates made it out of there. At least some of you did.

—————

You stood your ground against Tony as he lit up his repulsors, trying to get a clear shot of Bucky or Steve.

“Y/N, you haven’t thought this through at all!” Tony argued with you, trying to get you to see it from his poing of view. “I promise you it’s not too late to turn this all around. I’ll tell Ross you were my double agent or something, anything to keep you from getting thrown in the Raft!” You glanced back at Steve, who was buying into Tony’s rant more than you were.

“He’s right, y/n.” Steve lowered his shoulders some. “I can’t drag you down any more, you can’t come back from this.” You gulped, feeling as something were stuck in your throat. You didn’t think that this battle would lead you here.

“After everything I did to help you, you want to leave me with him?” You asked with tears beginning to brim in your eyelids.

“I don’t want to abandon you, that’s the last thing I’d want to do.” Steve explained. “But I know that Tony’s telling the truth, he won’t let them hurt you. If you get caught with us, they’ll know you’re guilty and you might never come back from it. I can’t let you give it all up for us.” You looked back to Tony, who agreed with Steve for once.

“I’ll make it go away. And I won’t hold it against you, okay? You made me proud, even if you were a pain in the ass.” His hand was still aimed towards Bucky, but you’d yet to budge. This was a big decision you’d have to make. Switching sides just for a bailout? And then Tony’s aim switched to the opposite side of you, just before you felt a hand rest on your shoulder.

“You’d be doing me a favor by keeping yourself in Ross’s good graces, how about that?” Steve tried to reason. “I need you to stay safe, you won’t be safe with us.” You bit down on your tongue and took a deep breath, realizing that you’d have to take the easy way out of this one. You lowered your guard and gave everyone in the vicinity a moment of peace of mind.

“You two are both impossible.” You hung your head and relaxed your tense muscles, knowing that this was no longer your fight.

“Glad you finally realize that, no go wait in the Quinjet.” Tony instructed, patiently waiting for you to leave the blast zone before the three of them got to work. It was about to get much more messy than it did at the airport, they’d rather you miss this part. And even if it broke your heart, they had to do what was best for you. Apparently, it was never too late to start.

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