#the question was my closest friends so i hope nobody is turned off by my reply

[cuteteacakes]

Who are the closest friends you have here? :D

Well the most obvious one is @akumanoken since we talk on and off Tumblr and met irl more than once (she is as amazing as you think she is <3333) and @fatestouch because we are also married UwU

There's two who I talked to a lot and became pretty good friends with but they aren't active anymore here (one I have no idea if she even has a d.iscord and the other we've drifted apart but it was fun while it lasted) @shaman-alexei and Mercy (Hank's wife)'s mun (idk she might've deactivated her tumblr and I feel really awkward talking to her on d.iscord now because like I said we drifted apart)

But! There's two fairly recent people I've started talking to and they're a hoot I hope they consider us friends @take-ya-to-the-ghey-bar and @liroyalty Love you guys!

Edit: I forgot to add the ones that send me the most cat memes and posts etc etc @s1lxcs and @thebloomingrosefamily you two make my days a little more bearable with all the kitties *finger hearts*

[mysmuttyy]

LISTEN; MATTHEO RIDDLE SMUT

stalker mattheo knows a lot about you, stuff nobody else knows.

MY BACK IS PRESSED AGAINST A TREE, thick book resting in the palm of my hands, pages flicking over in the wind. I haven’t been able to focus for the past five minutes, all I’ve done is stare out at the water, watching the leaves move with the wind.

The wind blows against me, fly aways falling into my eyes, repeatedly. I huff, tugging the strands behind my ears, but it’s no use.

I get close to getting up and leaving, but the sound of leaves crunching a little behind me steals my attention. Not many people know about the black lake, which is pretty odd because you’d expect the exact opposite, right?

My eyes focus on a tall figure, curly hair, muscular body. I can’t quite pinpoint who he is - til he gets closer, not noticing me under the big tree closest to the water.

I exhale a deep breath, about to get up and leave, again, but he steals my attention away. Slipping his black shirt over his head, tossing it by my feet.

His back muscles stare right at me and I can’t help but slam my thighs together, hoping he didn’t hear the slap of my skin. I breathe heavily, eyes wandering down his well toned figure.

Thick thighs stand out to me, sending wild thoughts running through my brain. A wet patch forms on the front of my lace panties, clit throbbing for him.

Mattheo Riddle, the dark lords son, someone they say is extremely dangerous. One they avoid in the halls, never daring to make eye contact with him. In my honest opinion, I think they’re over exaggerating. If he was a dangerous person, he would’ve done something by now and he hasn’t.

He keeps to himself and minds his business.

It kinda breaks my heart. He doesn’t have any friends, because people would rather judge him than get to know him. Stuck up rich kids with slyly torment him, trying to rile him up, but he ignores it.

“Are you done staring at me, y/n?” His deep voice speaks, making my stomach flutter with a flock of butterflies. That’s the first time I’ve heard him speak in two years.

The last time he spoke, he was apologising for getting in my way. If he was so dangerous, why would he apologise?

He clears his throat, pulling me out of my messy train of thoughts. “S-Sorry..Um, I’ll leave!” I exclaim, but he shakes his head at me, running his wet hand through his, now wet curls.

I push my thighs together once more, my face growing red at the way his stare makes me feel. “Did I say you had to leave?” He asks, raising his brows at me.

My heart beats even faster, so fast I fear it might pump out of my chest. “Well what do you want me to do?” I question, trying my best not to sound scared of him. It’s not that I’m scared of him, he’s just incredibly gorgeous and it makes me nervous.

Too nervous to speak.

“Take your shirt off.” He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. My breath hitches, eyes widening at his words. His brown eyes stare into my blue ones, something glistening in them, something I can’t figure.

“My shirt?” I test, raising my brows, a smirk crossing over my face. He laughs, looking down at his chest. My body lifts, back no longer pressed against the painful back that was digging into my skin.

I slowly pull my shirt up, over my head, dropping it on top of his. He looks back up, face growing red when he looks at my cleavage. My smirk grows as I put my hands out, waiting for him to help my body into the water.

He takes my hands into his, turning me into liquid with just his touch. All of my confidence evaporates, on the spot, hairs that lie on the back of my neck sticking up. “T-Thank you.” I mumble, looking away from his gorgeous face.

Now that I’m in the water, the wetness of my arousal is easier to ignore. Mattheo and I’s hands are still touching, intertwined. The tension between us quickly grows, his eyes flickering down to my lips.

“Fuck, this is bad.” I speak, bursting the silence. He raises his brows at me, tilting his head in confusion. The curls on his head flop to the side, making me almost giggle at how cute it is.

“What’s bad?” He asks, confused look quickly turning into a excited, yet evil look. “Maybe you getting wet at my muscles, slamming your thighs together in hopes the throbbing dies down?” He ponders, letting my hands go, stepping closer to me.

I quiver, eyes widened, face tomato red. “Or maybe it’s the fact that you want me to fuck you right now?” He continues, fucking with your mind.

Anger boils in your chest as you step forward, slamming your hands against his wet chest. “First of, fucker! It’s considered rude to invade my mind without consent!” I shout, glaring up at the man with audacity probably bigger than his dick.

He scoffs, grabbing my throat in his veiny hand. “You must be really horny to be thinking of how big my dick is, huh?” He laughs, leaning down to my face.

“You’re thinking of fucking my tits, Mattheo. Don’t act so fucking innocent.” I retort, glaring harder at him. He lets my throat go, a look of shock on his face.

The two of us remain silent, our eyes locked, deep diving into one another’s brain. I grow tired of it, leaning up to finally smash my lips against his.

He kisses back, wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me to his chest. My breast press up against his chest, causing him to grow hard against my body.

“Tsk, tsk. You just got hard because of a stranger, that’s gotta be a little embarrassing.” You tease, not expecting him to say what he says..

“You’re not a stranger baby.”

—

A/n; I really don’t know what this is, but I’m really obsessed with the quiet kid trope. Mainly because I’m obsessed with a quiet kid at school 😃😃

Anyways, please send in some suggestions for what smut to write and who it’s ab!! Should I do pt 2?

[bvidzsoo]

Does he know?

𖤛 Brother's best friend!San 𖤛

TW: none

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Hii lovelies, got inspired today while listening to some scary Halloween stories, so here's this little drabble (which is not so little lol.)

           Oh, you had a bad feeling. When Jongho, your older brother, came barreling inside your room yesterday evening with an excited grin on his face you just sighed, expecting a half fucked up idea about what the two of you should do over the weekend with your parents absent, but he surprised you with the idea of throwing a party, instead. It really didn’t sound bad. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Besides, he said it would be a smaller get together with his closest friends and perhaps a few other guys from his uni class, so you had no problem with that. Plus, it was Halloween. And a little party never killed nobody. But as you stood by your window right now, curtain pulled slightly to the side to be able to peek out, your face was pulled into a distressed grimace.

“No, Yeri, you don’t understand—” Your words rushed out as the phone was pressed against your ear, “the place is flooded. Okay?! It’s not just Jongho’s friends—it’s his whole fucking university!”

Your best friend giggled annoyingly on the other end of the phone, obviously amused by you overreacting over a small party. It wasn’t small at all, alright?! Your parents would kill you if they were to get home earlier. Jongho informed them of the small get together and they had no problems with it—but this?! Jesus, you were in trouble.

“What are you wearing?” Yeri asked excited, probably grinning. She left on a small trip with her family over the weekend, otherwise, she’d be sitting on your bed and teasing you in person about you freaking out.

“That’s not important—” Your breath hitched a little as you watched two motorcycles pull up in front of your house, rolling up your drive way. You were too lazy to park your cabriolet inside the garage, so the motorcycles were forced to park behind your cherry red car.

“Oh—my—God.” You managed to choke out as Choi San, your brother’s best friend, swung his leg over his very new motorcycle and took the helmet off his head. He ruffled his black hair with his fingers, and the strands fell perfectly back in place, just as it was gelled back seconds ago. Your jaw was on the floor as San placed his helmet on the seat of his motorcycle, turning to face his friend, Seonghwa. Your eyes were glued to San’s outfit, muscles on display through the tight fabric hugging his body.

“Y/N?! Hello—” Yeri’s exasperated huffing finally reached your ears, and brain to be honest, as your eyes fixed on San’s black leather pants.

“Yeri, fuck, I’m going to die tonight.” You mumbled into the phone breathless as San adjusted his leather cropped jacket, which was matching his pants. God, you felt like you were drooling. Which you might have been doing, actually.

“You know I can’t see whatever you’re seeing, right?” Yeri’s voice was amused but slightly annoyed and your eyes widened as San turned and glanced up towards you window as if sensing you were ogling him.

“Sorry, yeah, I—” You speedwalked away from your window, hoping San hadn’t seen you, as you started pacing up and down in your spacious room, “Yeri—San—God.”

There was silence on the other side of the line, that is, until loud laughter almost deafened you, “I know you have the hots for San, but seriously—this much?!”

“You’re not seeing him right now, alright?!” Your voice raised as you joined in on Yeri’s laughter.

“Well, go ahead, I’m all ears—but before that! What are you wearing?” Yeri repeated her question and you giggled as you stopped in front of your full body length mirror. Oh well, what you were wearing, despite it being decent in your opinion, would send your brother into an annoyed rant, his overprotective side, making you change into something else in milliseconds. But it was fine, because tonight, he was preoccupied with his friends and would leave you alone. At least that’s what you hoped for.

“Well, I’m wearing that black leather skirt we bought together last month,” The skirt reached mid-thigh and came up to your belly button, “I have fishnets on too, and—I don’t know, mom gave me this crop top long sleeve blouse thingy she used to wear.” The crop top was burgundy and low-cut, wrapping around your breasts snuggly as the collar of it rested nicely around your shoulders and collarbones. Your stomach was bare and as you weren’t used to dressing like this, it made you feel slightly uncomfortable, but Halloween only happened once a year, you’d survive.

“You have to send me a picture!” Yeri demanded and you hummed, looking around for an accessory to complete the look. Your neck felt too bare, perhaps a black choker would do, “What about your hair?”

“Uh,” You huffed as you walked to your dresser, opening your jewelry box on top of it, “I was lazy, so, a messy ponytail will do.”

“I bet you look hot as fuck,” You rolled your eyes as you grabbed your black choker, “And with San there…Jongho better not cockblock you—”

“Yeri.” You sighed and walked back to your mirror, “Just because I’m into San doesn’t mean he’s into me as well, you know…”

Yeri scoffed and you could have sworn she rolled her eyes too, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you—”

“Okay, enough nonsense.” You cut her off, glancing at the clock. It was almost ten and you could hear the guys setting up the music downstairs, “I’m going to hang up now.”

“Send me a picture!” Yeri exclaimed as you hummed and bid her goodbye, placing your phone on the nightstand. You secured the choker around your neck and then grabbed your phone, posing cutely in front of the mirror to send the picture to Yeri. A loud bang coming from down the hallway made you jump as your thumb pressed against the screen of your phone, but you paid it no mind as you hurried to your door and threw it open. You were about to shout at whoever went inside your parents room, but soon enough Mingi’s pink head poked through the door as Yeosang followed after him, carrying your father’s very expensive speaker set. Oh, you were dying dying when your parents returned home. Your sigh was loud as you shook your head at your brother’s friends and it caught their attention and Yeosang looked sheepish, meanwhile Mingi grinned widely.

“Hi, Y/N!” He greeted excitedly and you nodded with a grin which said ‘I have accepted my fate’ before you went back inside your room, closing your door and leaning against it with a groan. God, you were so going to regret this whole Halloween party idea. But Yeri’s supportive compliments about your outfit did cheer you up a bit.

            Two hours barely into the party and you were praying your neighbors wouldn’t call the police on you. The house was full of people, and as if you had turned into your mother, you were standing on the stairs, screaming at whoever tried going upstairs, telling them that it was off-limits, and that if you caught them there again, you’d kick them out. Most people, who you had no idea who they were, seemed to know you and would greet you like ‘Hi, Jongho’s sister’, and some would even bring you drinks, which you refused. You couldn’t trust guys, it was sad, but true. You were resting against the railing of the staircase, leaning over and gaping at a couple as they were furiously making out and leaning dangerously close to your mother’s plant, about to shout at them to stop, when your brother’s face blocked your view of them.

“Here you are!” He exclaimed with a wide grin, “Someone told me there’s an angry chick screaming at anyone who tries going upstairs—I just knew it was you.”

You rolled your eyes as Jongho started laughing, which quickly died out, as he squinted his eyes at your outfit, “Isn’t that too—revealing?”

“You can literally only see my abs, Jongho, what’s revealing about that?” You raised your eyebrows unimpressed at him and he shrugged, taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“I don’t know,” He extended his cup to you, “I’m just not used to seeing you dressed like this, I guess. What are you dressed as, anyways?”

You grabbed the cup and brought it up to your nose, scrunching it when you realized he was drinking Vodka, “I’m a vampire without fangs, because I didn’t have enough money to buy some. You?”

“Nothing, I’m the host.” Jongho deadpanned as you gulped down some of your brother’s drink, somehow expecting him to not dress up as anything, even though this was his party.

“Jongho, seriously—” You slightly gagged at the disgusting taste of his drink before handing him back his drink, “the host is the most important person at a party, of course you should be dressed up!”

“Good thing my little sis dressed up in my place too,” He chuckled and nodded his head towards the kitchen, “stop annoying others and come to the kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes but followed your brother, you were starting to get irritated by the many drunken idiots wanting to go upstairs, perhaps a drink would do good. Jongho waited for you at the end of the stairs and once you were by his side he draped an arm around your shoulders, making you give him a pointed look. It wasn’t a foreign action, but he was only doing it right now to keep guys away from you. Not surprising at all. A few people smiled and waved at you as you made your way through the crowd and you smiled back awkwardly, asking Jongho who they were, and him explaining with a laugh. You also scolded him for throwing a huge party instead of a small get together and he smiled sheepishly, saying he only meant to invite a few friends over but word got out and he couldn’t do much about it. You knew he was lying, but remained silent as you walked inside the kitchen with him and realized all of his good friends were here. San included. Fuck. You gulped and made an effort to avoid looking in his direction as he had abandoned his leather jacket somewhere and the black tank top he wore exposed his deliciously buff arms and wide back. Oh, God, you truly wouldn’t survive tonight. Suddenly you missed standing on the stairs and shouting at others to stay away.

“Y/N! Finally!” Yunho, Jongho’s guitarist friend from their band, greeted you cheerily and ran up to you. Jongho released you and went to grab a red cup, pouring some whiskey in it as it was your favorite. You knew Yunho was going to hug you, but you didn’t expect the tackle and your legs dangling in the air as he twirled you around, making you giggle half scared for your life.

“How much have you had to drink?” You asked once he placed you down and he just shrugged, grabbing his own cup off the counter.

“A lot.” He muttered into your ear before he went back to his previous spot, sitting up on the counter, next to the sink. Mingi was busy showing something on his phone to Wooyoung, who waved when Yunho was twirling you around, meanwhile Yeosang was pouring coke into your cup, laughing with Jongho about something. Seonghwa was busy talking to a girl, smiling sweetly and playing with a strand of her hair, meanwhile Hongjoong was squinting and squatting, filling nine little porcelain cups with a pinkish liquid. He was pouring shots for everyone. You stood awkwardly in your own kitchen as you waited for Jongho to finally give you your drink, when you felt someone’s warmth engulfing you from your right. You gulped and screamed at yourself to remain calm and not blush, the musky scent of your brother’s best friend too familiar. Fuck, why did he have to approach you?!

“Hi,” His voice was deep and your body involuntarily shivered, “I bet you’re hating this whole thing.” Of course he knew you’d hate this whole big party thing, why did San have to know you so well? How did he even know, was the better question.

“Uhm—” Why did your jaw have to hang a little open? Seriously, you hated yourself right now. But San’s sharp eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner, making them even sharper as he gazed deeply into your own eyes as if he was trying to reach deep enough to see your soul. Which might’ve as well left your body at the moment, “San, hi. It’s—big. The party, I mean, yeah, it’s too much—whatever.”

What were you even saying? If San wouldn’t have started grinning like an idiot at your nonsense of an answer, you would’ve started crying. You still wanted to cry but Yeosang’s quiet ‘hey’ caught your attention as he stood next to you and San, handing you your red cup.

“Jongho said you’re allowed to drink only one more when you’re finished with this one.” Yeosang handed you the cup as you huffed.

“Yeah, tell Jongho he can shove it up his ass since he said he’d throw a small party and this is everything but small.” San giggled next to you and you swore Heaven was calling you as the sound made tons of butterflies erupt in your stomach. Should you really drink with San here? Whatever, fuck it, you took a big gulp of your drink and smiled at the sweet taste of it. Yeosang and Jongho always knew how to mix your drinks. Yeosang just winked before walking back to Jongho, leaving you standing next to San, feeling awkward again. Now it was because you had no idea what to say to him. Seriously, what could you ask him about at a Halloween party? You took a peek in his direction, and almost jumped when you realized he was already looking at you, but his eyes weren’t on your face but on your body. Specifically, legs. Your whole face flushed and you quickly took another gulp of you drink as you tried not to choke at the thought of San checking you out. What kind of fever dream was this?

“Let me guess,” You heard San saying, and you did choke this time, making Jongho glance your way with his eyes squinting at you, “You’re a vampire?”

Once you managed to calm your coughing, you looked at him, more than sure that your whole face was red, “Yeah, without the fangs…and what are you?”

“Ghost rider, without the fire.” You started giggling, it sounded really awful to your own ears, but it made San smile too and suddenly those damn butterflies were back. You could swear you heard him muttering ‘cute’ to himself, but Wooyoung’s witchy laughter echoed around the kitchen and you looked his way, wondering what was so funny. By the look on Hongjoong’s face it was probably nothing funny, Wooyoung just had a death wish.

“Shut up, idiot.” Hongjoong went to place his palm against Wooyoung’s mouth to shut him up, but he escaped and raced towards you, hiding behind you as he knew Hongjoong quite liked you and wouldn’t try to deck him as long as you’re standing in front of him.

“Can we just drink those shots?” Wooyoung whined from behind you and Hongjoong gave him one last scrutinizing look before he went back to the counter and clapped his hands together.

“Shots are ready!” He grinned and the boys approached the counter, excitement showing in their eyes as they all watched the pink liquid, Mingi leaning close to sniff it before Yunho pulled him backwards and shook his head at his best friend. You were just about to walk over, Hongjoong having made eye contact with you with a smile signaling the ninth cup was for you, when San grabbed your forearm and gently pulled you towards the counter. Your whole body went stiff and you focused on gripping your red cup, afraid that it would slip from your grip. God, why did your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden? He just grabbed you, for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t that serious. He did that to many others, you really needed to get out of your head. Everyone grabbed a shot, San’s grip was still on you and your hand slightly shook as you grabbed your own cup, and then Hongjoong raised his high. Everyone extended theirs, you were struggling a bit as you were further from the group, but San pulled you closer and you positively fell into his side, brain shutting down for a few seconds.

“Cheers!” Everyone shouted loudly but you could only mumble as San turned to face you with the cutest, warmest, sweetest smile of all times before he downed his shot, never breaking eye contact. Oh, for God’s sake you truly were about to pass out as your trembling hand raised to your mouth, throwing the shot back, not quite expecting the sour taste of the pink liquid as you cringed. Hongjoong saw and chuckled, grabbing your empty cup before gathering the other ones too. Jongho had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he clapped his hands together, asking for attention.

“Seonghwa and I made a bonfire in the backyard, everyone’s welcomed to share scary stories for the next hour.” Mingi and Yunho shared a smirk as they raced outside, their tall bodies crashing almost into everyone as they made it a race as to who got there first. Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder made you jump as he started pulling you after him, San’s grip from your forearm disappearing.

“Wanna tell that story which happened like two weeks ago?” Wooyoung asked excited, pushing the door open for you.

“I’m pretty sure it was just a cat, Wooyoung…” You trailed off, still getting goosebumps from that day. Wooyoung tsked and shook his head as he walked the two of you to the empty log at the bonfire, pushing you down to sit.

“If it truly were a cat, we would’ve seen it, Y/N.” He wasn’t wrong about that, but to be honest, it still freaked you out so you hoped he’d leave you alone. The log wasn’t too big and soon Jongho joined the two of you, handing you a blanket from your parent’s room, you thanked him with a smile. His good friends all made themselves comfortable around the bonfire, a few strangers joining the nine of you as Yunho was the first one to start, with Mingi adding some information here and there, making sound effects with his mouth which only made everyone either laugh or cringe, despite his attempts to make it scary.

            You weren’t dressed accordingly for the late October, early November weather, so you quickly left the bonfire, of course, only after Wooyoung told his story and kept you there to vouch for the authenticity of it. You made yourself another drink while you were downstairs and even joined in the dancing in the living room, thankful that Jongho had pushed the sofa aside for more space. You got quickly bored of that too as the played music wasn’t really your thing, so you went back to the stairs and screamed at anyone who wanted to go upstairs. At some point you had to pee as you had finished your second cup of whiskey coke and opted for the bathroom upstairs, scared that you’d walk in on some horny university students in the downstairs bathroom. Jongho would be cleaning that bathroom, not you, that was certain. The upstairs bathroom was just across the stairs so you didn’t have to do much walking, you weren’t drunk, but your legs felt a little jittery and you knew the alcohol would soon kick in. You didn’t drink much, so you knew it wouldn’t be anything serious, but you also felt like changing into your fuzzy pjs and playing some games on your PC before going to sleep. As you washed your hands you nodded to yourself, having agreed to that idea, and left the bathroom quickly. Barely few steps away from the door, you heard footsteps behind you and when you glanced back, two Ghostfaces were charging towards you, making you shriek as you took off down the corridor, slapping their hand away when they reached for your middle. You knew these were just stupid guys playing a prank on you, but those movies have seriously scarred you, and you blamed Jongho for letting you watch it at a fragile age. You yelped again as one of them popped their head next to yours, giggling deeply, making you realize who it was. However, you had no intention of stopping before you reached your room, but as you grabbed the doorknob, you were swept off your feet and twirled around again, making you curse loudly as your head became hazy.

“Jeong Yunho!” You screamed and slapped the arm holding you, “Song Mingi!”

The two boys erupted into laughter and Yunho lowered you as you swung around and punched his middle, making his laughter turn into coughs, making Mingi laugh even louder. But you were soon facing him and trying to punch him too, but he was quick on his feet and dodging your frail attacks skillfully.

“You two are assholes!” You huffed once you realized you couldn’t get Mingi and he just chuckled, pulling the mask off his face, “You know I’m scared shitless of Ghostface!”

“We know.” Mingi giggled as you glared at him before turning around and glaring at the other culprit too. Yunho was still rubbing his stomach, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, mask clutched in his hand.

“Told you it would be funny scaring her.” Yunho told Mingi and you shook your head, flipping the two giants off as you grabbed your doorknob.

“I’ll tell Jongho you two keep bullying me—” You smirked when Mingi’s eyes widened and Yunho stopped looking so amused, “And then I’ll be the one laughing and having fun.”

“Don’t do that!” Mingi whined as you narrowed your eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, just pushed the door to your room open, watching Yunho pout at you before you closed the door in their faces, darkness enveloping you. You sighed and leaned against your door for a second, waiting for your heartbeat to return to its normal rhythm. That didn’t last for long, however, as you turned around and caught glimpse of the dark shadow standing by your desk, making you shriek again and grab your phone off your nightstand. It probably wasn’t a smart weapon of choice, but you chucked it towards the shadow, slightly thankful when they caught it, confirming that it wasn’t an actual ghost. Until it dawned on you that someone was in your room and you were about to bolt, but the lamp on your desk was flicked on. Your mouth dropped open for the nth time as you watched San, who was pressing a hand against his lips to muffle his giggles. That is, until he lowered it and the endearing sound overtook your room, butterflies back in your stomach.

“Yah! Choi San!” You exclaimed, storming over and grabbing your phone from his hand, “That wasn’t funny! I nearly had a heart attack when I realized someone was standing in my room! What if you were a creep?!”

San’s giggles died down as his eyebrows furrowed, the weight of your words getting to him. He had quite the intimidating aura at times, when his face was expressionless and his sharp eyes stared you down, and that’s exactly how he was looking at you right now. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t scary or mal-intended, but your heart picked up again as you watched him for longer. He became serious all of a sudden. The eyeliner got a little bit smudged under his eyes and it added only depth to his mesmerizing eyes under the golden hue of your lamp.

“I would’ve beaten up the creep then.” You puffed and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, okay, big boy.” You muttered more to yourself, not taking San too seriously and he seemed offended.

“No, I’m serious!” He exclaimed and approached you, a head taller. You looked up and cursed yourself for blushing, his scent enveloping you. Oh, no, the alcohol was getting to you as your eyes could only focus on his lips. This was bad.

“You know you can seek for my help at all times, Y/N?” Yeah, his words were sweet and comforting, but your eyes took in the redness of his plump lips, the curve of it. How would he taste, was the first question that came to mind and you almost gasped at yourself. Oh, man, were you really this far gone for him? Jongho would’ve choked you out by now if he could read your mind. Damn him and his inhumane strength which he seemed to inherit from your grandpa, that man was lifting the heaviest things at the age of seventy without a care in the world or any consequences.

“Yeah, uh—” Wait, what did San just say? Oh, yes, about going to him when you needed help—wait, what? Really? “That’s—uh—sweet. Yeah, thanks.”

You promised you were better at conversations, but San…San just had this effect on you where your brain turned into mush and suddenly you were just simply dumb. San’s lips pulled into a grin and you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his forehead or eyes, and not on his lips.

“I never got to tell you, but your outfit is cute.” Yeah, screw it, your whole face flamed at the compliment, “It almost made me think you matched me on purpose when you sent me that cute mirror selfie.”

Sent him…what? Matching—who was matching? Oh, the leather skirt and his leather pants, yeah, what a coincidence. Wait—sent him a selfie?!

“I sent you a selfie?!” You exclaimed without meaning to, eyes wide as you watched San take his phone out of his pocket, unlocking his phone. Your days were numbered. You wouldn’t be alive for too long, you have concluded, if he showed you what you feared he was about to show you. No, please don’t be it—you bit your lower lip when San turned his phone around, the selfie you intended to send to Yeri only winking back at you from San’s phone. He chuckled and turned the phone back towards himself, looking at the selfie and shaking his head.

“I figured you sent it by accident,” San spoke up, pocketing his phone, “but I had a flicker of hope in me that it wasn’t an accident, after all.”

“What?” You were gaping at him like a fish, it must’ve looked hilarious, but San didn’t look amused as he stepped closer, his boots hitting yours.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” You shook your head no, on the verge of fainting if San were to compliment you once again, “And I mean that in a…I like you, you’re cute, way.”

Stop. Rewind. Did he…just…say that? I like you?! The longer you looked at him expressionless as a deep flush invaded your cheeks, the longer San had to fight off the need to grab you and kiss you.

“You like me?” You managed to ask once your brain tried to work again.

“Yes.”

“You want to date me kind of like me?”

“Yes.”

“Does Jongho know?”

“He’s the one who encouraged me to go for it.”

“He would never.”

“Okay, maybe he didn’t encourage me—but he never said I wasn’t allowed to pursue his little sister…”

“You’re fucking with me right now, Choi San.”

“No, I’m not.”

Oh, boy, perhaps your body has finally given up as you felt your knees buckle underneath you slightly, but San didn’t notice as you huffed and held the bridge of your nose.

“Are your slaps as painful as Jongho’s?”

“More painful.” You muttered and San pouted, making your heart beat even faster than it already was.

“Fuck, then I hope I never make you mad.” San chuckled and you bit your lower lip.

“Are you asking me out right now?” If he said yes, you would faint.

“Yes.” Fuck. Why was he smiling so cutely at you? Did he want to kill you? Your parents wouldn’t even get the chance to do it at this rate.

“Okay, let’s date.” Your mouth was saying things on its own accord, because your brain stopped working a long time ago.

“I knew you liked me.” San giggled and his arms went around your middle as he pulled you into a hug, pressing his chin on top of your head. Why was he so warm?

“I don’t like you.”

“Mhm.”

Okay, maybe he was right. Okay, he was right. You liked him. Painfully much. And as you hugged him back, you were positive he could hear and feel your heartbeat in your chest by the fervor it was thumping with. Lips pressed against your forehead, and now you were positive you were about to pass out as you cursed silently, making San shake with laughter as heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway outside, headed towards your room. Shit, Jongho was coming.

Masterlist ↭ Halloween Prompts

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Four

Summary: After Nut's funeral, Billy and his estranged friend share some choice words | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Warnings: language, mentions of neglect, mentions of bullying and sexual assault, islamophobia

“Take those fucking sunglasses off, you look like a prick.”

Billy winced when he knocked his right hand, bandaged and bloody, holding it close to his body, the other pulling the sunglasses that Paddy hated so much off his face.

“Why didn't you call your sister?”

Billy scoffed, “Like I'm gonna be the first to tell her. She'll find out in her own time.”

Paddy simply sighed from behind the steering wheel, his fingers twitching with the need to say something, but unsure how.

“A fucking Halal butchers? Who put you up to do that?”

Now it was Billy's turn to sigh, “nobody.”

“Oh yeah? Nothing to do with these English Flag-fucking-Crusaders, whatever they're called.”

“Listen mate, please, I don't need this right now.”

Paddy simply let out a frustrated breath, concentrating on now tailgating the car in front of him. Billy slumped in the passenger seat of his friend's car, feeling that Paddy amongst the little remaining group of friends, would be the least judgemental.

Turns out that wasn't true.

Billy resisted to cringe when he heard Paddy's voice on the other line when he'd rung him from the police station, hoping at least that he felt worse than he looked. And he looked pretty shit.

He thought, Lana wouldn't be faring much better.

He could feel the deep, dark judgement and anger seeping off Paddy, in the way he gripped the gearstick and his grunts of annoyance at usual menial things.

God fucking help him if she ever found out.

She'd pretend she didn't want to kill him, but would work on a way to do it in her head before she ever said it.

If he was being honest with himself. He'd had far too much (albeit not as much as Lana) and was angry, upset, annoyed. And he wasn't even sure what at.

At the time, it was easy to be annoyed at anything.

Just so happens the Halal butchers was right in front of him.

“Not told your sister then?” Paddy prodded whilst stopped at a red light.

Paddy was usually so sing-songy in the way he spoke, something carried down through his Irish family. And though he was technically the first of his generation to be born in England, the few times Billy and their mates had gone down to his for drinks, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were right back in the bustling centre of Londonderry, with the statue of Mary placed ceremoniously on the mantelpiece, as well as every shelf in every bedroom.

Not that Paddy himself would describe himself as religious.

Since meeting him in the first year of College, Billy had always tagged him a sort of ‘class clown’. It was easy to laugh when Paddy was around. And whether he meant to or not, he was just funny. 

But here, sat beside him, being interrogated very much like he had felt the night before by the police officers who’d picked him up, that aloof, silliness that Paddy most often wore, was nowhere to be found. 

“Not yet,” Billy answered simply, trying not to fiddle with the damp bandages around his hand. “You gonna?”

Billy shrugged, feeling as if this were only the beginning of the questions that he was likely to get from those closest around him. 

And Paddy need not even say what was on his mind, his fallen expression of disappointment was enough as he pulled up beside Billy’s flat and pulled the handbrake up. 

“Get out my fucking car.”

The door opened a good ten seconds after she’d knocked, and when Libby’s bright, blonde hair appeared in the doorway, a phone in one hand, her friend looked nothing short of shocked.

“Come in, just on FaceTime with Ami,” she muttered, ushering her in without question and closing the door, “No, no, I’m still here, carry on.”

“So anyway, this old Chinese lady is like ‘oh my god, I love your hair, you’re so lucky’ but she wouldn’t stop fucking touching me!”

She couldn’t help but grin as she heard Ami’s ramblings over the phone and Libby’s dramatic replies, all while they filed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Oh dear, Ami, however will you survive. There’s worse things than people touching your hair.”

“Not fucking much,” Ami answered with a huff, “anyway I’ve gotta go. Hi and bye, misery-guts!”

Libby snickered and turned her phone so that she could at least wave goodbye on the camera. To which she gave halfway between a playful smile and a grimace, and stuck two fingers up at her instead.

Once Libby hung up she snorted, “sarky bitch. Milk, no sugar?”

She nodded, “Yup, please. As long as you’re not too busy acting like a proper sister-in-law.”

Libby scoffed, handing one of her Emma Bridgewater mugs to her and leant back against the kitchen counter, “Abi has yet to pop the question yet, friendo.”

She hummed a laugh, tapping her fingernails against the mug.

“So…you saw him.”

“Unfortunately, yes. At the wake…”

“Jesus Christ. Billy there?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh again, “Unfortunately yes again. Billy punched him in the face.”

Libby cocked her head, a sort of worried grimace on her face, “Cute, I guess? Or stupid.”

The tea burned her tongue, but she was eager to do something to occupy herself, otherwise her thoughts would, “Probably a bit of both.”

“What is the deal with you and Billy?”

There it was. The golden question. An answer she’d like to know herself. 

She sighed, “Libs-”

“I mean, you two used to be thick as thieves and then bam suddenly he can’t talk about you anymore. And now that you’re back, which I love by the way, it’s like whenever he sees you he sees a fucking…ghost or something.”

Suddenly Libby’s bright eyes seem much too intense, and she has to look between her feet to get a grip of herself, sighing as she taps her fingertips on the mug of tea she holds.

“Listen I know he’s not always been there for you in the way you needed-”

“It’s not- I don’t know. I always had this feeling like…he didn’t really like me, just tolerated me.”

She doesn't need to look back up at her friend to know there's a sad expression there. And the moment is so utterly quiet, that she can hear the neighbour next door mowing their lawn, both the smell and haze of fresh grass drifting lazily through the air.

It reminded her of Cranstead Fields.

Fuck, why did everything have to circle back to him.

“Billy is a lot of things. Cruel is not one of them,” Libs sighed, “maybe just stupid.”

When they both gave an exhausted and yet relieved laugh, the tension somewhat shifted.

“I love him, Libs. I don't know if I should, but I do.”

Her friend opened her mouth, about to reply or add something. But her lips clamped shut immediately.

“God, you're both insufferable,” Libs laughed, crossing her arms, “you two need to be adults and talk it out. Or do some therapy on the NHS, I know that really helped you.”

She rolled her eyes, “knowing my luck I’d have fucking Becky as my therapist. If that happens I'm face timing you from the edge of a bridge before I jump off.”

“Dramatic.”

“And don't mummy me, doesn't suit you.”

“Suits Abi just fine.”

“Ew, Libs.”

Libby had tried her best to make her feel better, and for that, she was nothing short of grateful. Some good needed to work its way back into her life at the moment. And the way her loving friend deemed fit to lift the mood, with a small glass of white wine, was not such a bad thing either. 

In truth, she can’t help but wonder, that if she’d met Libby while she was at secondary school, she likely would’ve walked right past her. 

Libby had always been popular, not by some maniacal grasp to preteen power, but through her bright, happy smile, stellar sense of humour and ability to make friends with just about anyone. 

If Libby was the explosive, firework-like presence in school, then she was like a ghost, merely living between planes of existence, enough to interact with things and people around her, but not enough to leave any lasting impression.

Or at least that’s what she thought.

They were through the second episode of Gogglebox and nearing the end of the little glass of white when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

“Hang on, Libs. Lana’s calling me.”

Libs’ head pulled back as if in shock, “what she calling you for?”

She shrugged and pulled the phone to her ear. Lana sounded hurried and stressed, like she was holding too many things in her hands. 

“Sorry to call you like this.”

“No, you’re alright, what’s up?”

“Listen, I know you and Billy aren’t exactly on great terms but do you mind checking on him? I was blackout last night and dunno what happened to him.”

“Uh- yeah, course.”

“Cheers. I’ll ping you his address.”

As soon as she hung up, Libby was instantly wide-eyed and nosy, asking a barrage of questions. All the while she tried to give any vague answer she could, scrolling her contacts for Paddy’s name.

“Jesus Christ, who you calling now?”

She held a finger up, “Hiya, Pad. Yeah I'm alright. Listen, you've not seen Billy about have you? What do you mean why am I asking you, you've still got Billy’s live location from that time he got lost having a piss at the club like two years ago, remember? You're my private investigator.”

She shot Libby a glare when she loudly sipped her wine loudly, to fill the silence.

She furrowed her brows, “when you say don't be mad, it insinuates I'm going to be mad, Patrick.”

Libby watched her friend's face fall, nearly losing grip on her phone held at her ear, and a sudden eerie silence when she heard Paddy's low voice on the other end.

“No, I won't tell him you told me, Lana asked me to go check on him anyway. Cheers, bye.”

She didn't spare Libby a look, her body suddenly pent up and eyes aflame. And her friend knew she meant business when she polished off the last slither of her wine before pulling herself up.

“Well?” Libby asked as she watched her pull on her coat hastily, getting frustrated when the zip wouldn't do up the first time.

“I'll tell you later, just know, I want to fucking kill him.”

Year 8 seemed to exist in a realm suspended between the innocence of Year 7 and the weighty responsibilities of Year 9, ensnared in the relentless passage of time. School, once brimming with purpose, now felt hollow, as did much else. Yet amidst the drudgery of daily life, the mundane trek home stood out as particularly grating, a constant reminder of the mundanity that had settled in.

Her mother's refusal to heed the school's advice regarding HPV jabs only added to the melancholy of the year. It was Miss Slator, her form tutor, who provided a semblance of maternal care, just as Mr. Thornby had the year before, acting as a paternal figure. Their concern and support, though appreciated, couldn't dispel the sense of disquiet that lingered within her.

The memory of receiving her first HPV jab during lunchtime, accompanied by Miss Slator, was tinged with discomfort, both physical and emotional. The sharp sting in her arm served as a poignant reminder of her vulnerability, exacerbated by the absence of her mother's reassuring presence.

She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, jumping out of her skin when Billy’s bag slumped down on the spot next to her.

“Is it sore?” he asked, huffing down on the bench beside her, looking out at a group of teens playing footie at Cranstead Fields, despite the looming grey cloud hanging above them.

She rolled her eyes, “course it hurts, you twa-ow!”

It was light, and friendly, the way he punched her left arm, the way all the boys had been doing to all the girls at school after their jabs. But it still fucking hurt. 

“Dick.”

Billy smiled boyishly, pulling a bar of chocolate out his coat pocket. 

“That for me?”

He nodded, as if it were obvious, “for being so brave.”

“Don’t be sarky,” she scoffed, smiling albeit gratefully and snatching the chocolate from him. 

She folded it over in her fingers, the bright purple packaging tempting her to eat it now. And she didn’t say it, but she thought she might save it for later, so that she’d be less hungry if her mum chose to not cook any tea.

It was a sad thought to have, that she might rely on it.

“How is safeguarding,” he asked calmly, not reacting when her wide, panic-stricken eyes turned to him. 

“How-”

“Saw you in Mr Healy’s office,” he interjects, pushing the blonde strands of hair off his forehead, waiting for her to say something. 

Billy was almost disappointed at her response. 

The soft glaze of her eyes, wide and embarrassed, but near longing to lift the weight off her conscience. The way her shoulders dropped to make herself appear small. Crossing her arms, rubbing them lovingly, like she was desperate for some semblance of touch like this. 

He saw the bob of her throat and braced himself for those large thick walls she’d built before she even said it.

In that moment, as the crushing burden of her secrets threatened to suffocate her, she found a temporary reprieve in the simple act of confiding, even if just for a fleeting moment. And wanted to, so readily to trust him. Despite her best efforts to fortify her emotional barriers, the ache in her heart intensified, a visceral reminder of the profound yearning for the connection she so deeply desired.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

One could be mistaken for thinking it was early afternoon by the time she pulled up behind Billy's battered Vauxhall, it was still so bright outside. 

With a heaved sigh, she threw her bag over her shoulder and locked her car, having to take steady, easy breaths to calm herself as she crossed the road to Billy's flat. Cigarette smoke clung to her clothes as she crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe, the smoke burning in her lungs and the lingering nagging at the back of her head that at some point, she had to make a point of giving up.

With a click, a man in a tracksuit and a cap slid out the door that led to the flats behind the row of shops. His eyes were hidden under a shadow, taking wide, calculated steps as if to place as much distance between him and the property he’d just come out of as possible.

As if being caught doing something he shouldn’t.

A shiver crept up her spine when they passed one another, and his stark eyes lit up under the tip of his cap, peering at her in suspicion.

She couldn’t shake that feeling even as she ascended the stairs to Billy’s flat. The sizzling nerves didn’t even seem to replace it.

Her stomach felt sick with emotion when he answered the door in tatty looking clothes, his shirt pilled up from years of use, hair somewhat greasy and an old, bloody bandage around his fist. 

Billy took up the doorway with his height, his arm stretched across it in a gesture of defence. But it seemed as if when he laid his darkened and tired blue eyes on her, she saw him shrink. 

“Can we have a word?” She asks, her tone flat in a manner that tells Billy he knows exactly what she's here for. In a manner that was tired, disappointed and saddened in equal measure.

“Fuck’s sake…”

Billy’s flat smelled of mildew, proven by the fact his clothes were still damp on the airer and all his windows were shut with the curtains drawn. His shoes were piled up in the hallway, one on top of the other, clearly favouring a particular pair that sat above them, as if he couldn’t be bothered even with the choice anymore.

He offered her a cup of tea, no doubt in an attempt to calm the rocky waves of panic surging through him. It was clear Billy was embarrassed by the state of his flat, as he glanced at her every now and then to make sure her expression was not one of judgement. The only one he found was one of despair.

Billy looked at his friend as if she was other-wordly. The world he’d made within the tight confines of his flat, did not have space to fit the idea of her inside of it.

His shoulders slumped, and the words that came out his mouth did not seem like his own as he sat awkwardly on his sofa, even that, covered in old clothes and crap. And all she could do was shake her head and peer out through his thin curtains, not able to look at the person she thought she had known once upon a time.

Both of them felt it. 

The surge of heat that flooded their veins before an argument. 

“I don’t need you to parent me. I’ve had enough of that already.”

She wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but managed herself somehow, “maybe you need it, Billy. These new mates of yours don’t seem to be doing you any favours, do they? Was it their fab idea for you to do it? Hm?”

“Does it matter?” he replied dismissively.

“Can't you see you're being fucking groomed, Billy? Fucking hell, what would Ami and Abi think?”

Their friends.

Did it mean nothing anymore?

“They’re different.”

“Oh, are they? Until they’re not. Until they do something to piss you off and then all of a sudden it’s ‘people like them’. What about their mum? Because fucking newsflash Billy, she wasn’t born here either, you’ve not got a fucking clue!”

He is quiet. His jaw tight, body wound so tight that even she could see his frustration.

“What’s next? Lobbing a brick through Mrs Ahmed’s window?”

He scoffs, his hair slipping off his head as he shakes it, “I fucking hate when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Speaking fucking sense?” she laughs bitterly, “I'm alright with that if I'm the only one holding you accountable!”

“When you’re stubborn.”

Billy needn’t ever shout. 

She could sense his deep annoyance in not only his gaze, but his voice.

And she thought with anger in her veins, burning with fury, that what did he have to be annoyed about?

“Who the fuck even are you Billy.”

It came out her mouth without even really trying. She didn’t know if she regretted it or not when she saw his expression. He was still defensive, that much was clear, but in the way he looked at her, it seemed as if he was grasping for something.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, almost desperately.

“Because I’m not used to this version of you.”

“Well, sorry Billy, I grew up. I of all people wish we could go back to the way we were, but here we are, fucking adults, avoiding each other like fucking teenagers!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“Well give me something then!” she exclaims, “something, to let me know you give a shit.”

“Fucking hell, I punched the guy who broke your fucking heart, is that not enough?!”

“Now who’s the one shouting,” she claps back with venom, “And so what, you-”

She stops herself, her face falling somewhat. And when she’s quiet so suddenly, Billy’s bright eyes meet hers, hands clasped and rested on his knees, leaned forward on the sofa as if to appear smaller. His expression is confused and irritated in equal measure.

“What did you say?” she asks in a whisper, blinking slowly.

“I…punched the guy who broke your heart?”

She feels the lump form in the back of her throat, her eyes curiously flitting between either of his, trying to understand what he is thinking without having the courage to ask.

Billy shakes his head, “I mean- is that not what he did? He fucking dropped you like you were nothing.”

Silence envelops either of them for a solid few seconds. So long that it’s suffocating, like the walls are closing in around them for the first time in years. And for a split second, with her eyebrows furrowed in pain and hands shaking, she looks just as she did on the last day Billy saw her at college.

“You don’t know, do you?”

What she says then sends a full-body shiver that begins at the base of Billy’s neck and clatters all the way through his limbs. Blood turning cold immediately. 

What does he not know?

He finds himself restless at the idea. That he was perhaps supposed to know something, but irrevocably doesn’t. That everyone else is aware of something so obvious.

He didn’t know it wasn’t just some nasty breakup.

He didn’t know that photos and videos of her in her most vulnerable moments were sent around the school, rumours circulating on MSN, hateful messages scribbled on her desk. And that she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that the guy who had humiliated her and dragged her name through the mud, still had the indecency to rub it in her face. 

He didn’t know that because of what happened, she nearly left school entirely, but that it was so late into the school year, she just waited it out before college. But that those few months, were absolute torture.

Billy never grasped the magnitude of her anguish—the nights spent in tears, the days clouded by despair. The sanctuary of school became a battleground, where every glance felt like an accusation, every whisper a condemnation. Yet, she soldiered on, clinging to the hope of escape, even as her spirit withered under the relentless assault.

He didn’t know that her mum berated her for weeks, even months. Didn’t give her bus money and didn’t wash her clothes, in what she perceived was fair punishment, thinking her daughter had purposely sent suggestive photos and videos to a random boy at school.

She had hoped he knew... but now faced with the daunting task of revealing her truth, she recoiled, sickened by the prospect of laying bare the depths of her suffering.

But in all that, as tears made her vision go blurry, a watery smile lifted to her lips at the memory of when he’d come to her at Cranstead Fields. He hadn’t been pushy and simply accepted that she needed comfort. And a friend. She remembered wetting his school shirt with her tears, and the smell of the detergent his mum used, with jasmine fabric conditioner pods. To which she thought now with delight, that he still smelled the same.

He was like home to her.

Home.

What was home now?

“Oh Billy…” she whispered through a choked, almost bitter laugh, “...it’s sweet…that you did all that just because you thought he broke my heart.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301@jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen

[charlotteswriting]

"I'm Afraid I Might Lose You As Well"

#AOT : Jean x Reader

💌: No one requested this. I'm just having a Jean brainrot and thinking about his and marco's friendship. Prompt is Jean receiving comfort because he needs it. Btw my requests are open ❤️‍🩹

It wasn't easy for you to sneak into men's dorm. But you had to. Ever since the death of Marco, Jean, your closest friend in the cadets, has been avoiding you.

It wasn't personal, you knew it.

You've been observing Jean from distance. You noticed how he didn't talk to anyone. Barely went out during his free time, sat alone while eating, heck, did he even touch his food.

It was like he was a ghost. Like when Marco left, he did too.

You never gave up on him though. Whenever he walked past you, pretending he didn't see you, you would wave at him. Try to stop him, asking how he is doing, even when he didn't answer you.

And now you are in the men's dorm, dressed up like a boy. If they found out you couldn't imagine what they would do to you. Washing the dishes for a month would be the lightest punishment they could give you.

But you didn't care.

Suddenly you didn't want him to ghost you. You wanted to have a conversation. But there was no sight of Jean.

"Psst, Connie."

You called out. Connie's eyes widening with shock as he recognized you.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing here??"

You closed his mouth with your hand.

"Don't make a scene. I am just looking for Jean, do you know where he is?"

Connie's eyes softened upon hearing that

"Couldn't you pick daytime to talk to him...? You know it's prohibited for you to be here."

"I know I could. But I couldn't help it. I am just so worried about him, alright? Can you please tell me where he is if you know."

Connie huffed, nodding in approval "Okay I'll show you but don't get caught or you'll be in serious trouble."

A smile took over your face. Connie guided you through the way, taking you out, through the forest. You followed him without questioning. After a while you reached a cliff. Standing behind a bush, Connie pointed at the figure who was sitting at the edge.

"There he is. I'll leave you alone now. And you owe me, alright?" He said as he took his leave. You simply nodded, you'll pay back in future somehow.

You approached Jean slowly, careful not to scare him.

"Jean," You called out softly.

He didn't flinch, turning his head.

He looked at you confused, trying to recognize you.

"Y/n?"

You approached him sitting next to him on the edge of the cliff.

"What're you doing here and why are you looking like a boy?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

He tensed up. "Talk to me..? About what?"

"How are you dealing with..." You asked hesitantly. It was a sensitive subject after all.

"Uh. That, I don't know. I'm good, I guess."

"Sorry, I got no say in this. But I am just worried about you."

"You don't have to be worried about me... I am doing alright."

You look at him, furrowing your eyebrows "Since when do you lie to me?"

He looks at you for a moment, before resting his head on your shoulder. "Can we just, stay like this? I don't want to think about anything."

You sigh then relax your shoulders. Enjoying the view with him. You looked up at the sky, each star was shining brighter than the other. Until now you hadn't realized how many stars were in the night sky.

"It's not just Marco..." He spoke up "It's just how pointless this all feels." You listen to him patiently "He wanted to be something big, to serve the king, be safe... and maybe someday create a family... I don't know. All of his dreams were taken away from him. It's just so cruel. And so unexpected. A moment ago he was encouraging me. Even I almost believed we were all going to get out. Safe and sound. It shouldn't have been him.. Supposed to be someone who wasn't so full of life and hope. It was supposed to be..."

"It shouldn't happen to anyone." You cut him off. "Nobody deserves that."

He looks down. Not even a single moment he looked at the sky. It was like he wasn't deserving of it.

"I know. But I can't keep thinking about it. I get so mad at myself..."

You take his hands in yours, at least you try to. His hands are twice big size compared to yours. His cheeks flushed at the sudden move, his eyes finding yours.

"It's all good... time will heal."

"Time will heal?" He looks at you in disbelief, his hands moving to your waist as he holds you close. "I don't want it to heal, I just don't want it happening to anyone else... Especially you. Heck, not even myself." He mutters out hesitantly.

There's so much space between you and him, even though he's holding you close. It's like he's pushing you away on purpose. The more he pushes you, the less he will get hurt.

"It won't happen to me."

His grip on your waist tightened as he heard that.

"Don't make promises. None of us know what will happen tomorrow." He murmurs, tilting his head down "I am afraid I might lose you as well." There was pure pain in his voice as his voice cracked. Until now, he didn't know how to reach out.

You gently hold his chin, tilting his head up to face you.

"You won't." You say promisingly.

His eyes shined with the smallest piece of hope. He hated promises. Forgotten promises. But for the first time, he wanted to believe one. He wanted it more than anything. He leaned close, pressing a peck on your forehead. Sealing it with a kiss.

"I truly wish that."

[yelenasdiary]

“Ever wonder if the world would be better without you…?” With wanda Maximoff x reader pretty please

-🐚

Drunken Thoughts

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: After another one of Tony’s parties and a few drinks later, you found yourself letting a thought slip to your closest friend. 

Angst | Comfort | Mentions of Drinking | Depression | Dark Thoughts | 0.8K |

AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy & I also hope it’s okay I made this a platonic fic! X

The night was finally over, another one of Tony's parties with a little too much socializing and pretending to listen to topics that you could care less about. Wanda was sitting on the sofa in the compounds living room when you entered the room finishing off your drink and placing the empty glass in the skin. 

"Y/n, come over here" Wanda smiled softly. She noticed over the last few weeks that you've been a little distant and off with everything and she couldn't help but keep a close eye on you. Wandering over to her, you slumped yourself down next to her and placed your head on her shoulder. "What's on your mind?" she asked. 

"Nothing" you replied in a soft tone, but Wanda already knew that was a lie and you knew better than to lie to a mind reader. 

"Shall we try that again?" Wanda placed a hand on your knee as you sighed. "I don't know…do you ever just, you know?" you spoke. Wanda shook her head, "ever just what?" she questioned. 

"Ever wonder if the world would be better without you…?" You looked up at her. Wanda turned to you while you lifted your head off her shoulder, "what's this about?" She asked. 

"I just, I don't know…. lately I've been thinking about a world without me and if I'm being honest….it seems the world would be fine. Nothing would change and I'm not sure why I even stay" you explained, letting your built-up thoughts spill. Wanda listened carefully, hurting on the inside knowing that her friend was feeling so low. 

"You're wrong about all of that, you know that, right?" She broke the silence, "you mean a lot more to the world than you see. You're apart of this family and every single time you go in a mission, you're changing the world. I know being an Avenger isn't easy and it has its cons but look at the pros. Look at the good we've done, how many people we have saved but most importantly, look at how many people you've saved" she added while looking into your eyes hoping her words were sinking in. 

"Yeah, I help save people I've never met before, and I'll never know them. Once upon a time I felt amazing that I was helping people in such a way but now? It's nothing new" you replied with a sigh. 

"Did you know that you're the glue that holds all of us together? You're the one who is able to make us smile on the darkest days, the one who lets us know you're always there for us not matter what time or where we are. While you think the world better without, my world would not be better and I can promise you that everybody else would agree with me" Wanda replies with a stern voice that was full of comfort. 

Her words took you back for a moment, were you so foolish to actually think that nobody would think twice if you left this earth for the afterlife? Through all the dark thoughts you'd been having, it was near impossible. Every time you thought of something positive the little voice in your head came up with a way to make you believe that the world would be better off without you, that you meant nothing and nobody around you truly cared.

But here you were, sitting in front of your best friend who was on the edge of tears hoping her words got through to you, even if it was just for a moment. You knew leaving her would break her and suddenly you began to think about the others and how Wanda was right, their world would not be better without you. They are your family, the only family you truly knew and as much as you'd been there for them through thick and thin, they were there for you. 

Even though your mind told you they didn't care, you didn't see how they made sure you were hydrated and eating, making sure you still went to training and not saying a word if you weren't giving it your all, offering to run small errands for you and still inviting you to things even if they knew you'd say no. The small things they did for you showed you just how much you truly mattered to the team. 

Then, suddenly, it hit you, the party Tony threw was for you. A fundraiser to help wildlife in need of serious help. If you had of noticed this detail earlier, maybe you wouldn't have tried to drown your thoughts with the free alcohol that went straight onto Tony's tab. 

"I h-honestly didn't think of things like that" you replied, tears of your own filling your eyes. Wanda pulled you in for a tight hug, "I know sweetheart but it's okay. Our thoughts can get the best of us sometimes but you're so much stronger than you think, I wish you'd come to me when things start to get bad. I never want you to feel like you're alone, ever!" She speaks as she rubs your back, letting you cry into her arms. 

It was then that you knew that you'd make a change and you knew that your family would always be there for you, no matter what. 

Taglist: @red1culous | @sayah13 | @charl-lally | @when-wolves-howl | @bentleywolf29 | @fxckmiup | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz  | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @wandsmxmff | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @lizzieslcver | @youralphawolf72 | @donnietarantino | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @marvel-madnessx | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @natashaswife4125 | @katiemay-025 | @aphrcdtes | @romanoffs-widow | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | 

[jadededge]

Siren | Christian Yu - Ch. 3

Pairing: Christian x You

Genre: Demon AU, Romance, Smut, slight Horror

Rating: M

Summary: That voice. It started calling me during the darkest moments of the night, like a siren luring me further into the deep and it has continued for weeks.

Wattpad | AO3   (will likely always update these 2 places first)  

Navigation: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Tonight, I was afraid to fall asleep. I was certain the man—the thing—I was seeing in my dreams was my new boss. But I couldn't understand how this was happening. How was any of this real?

I thought of calling my closest friend Talia, but as I went over what I would say in my head, it sounded insane. Nobody would believe me. Perhaps I should check myself into an in-patient program. Though deep down, I don't think even they could help me either.

I'm also angry that I was lulled into a false sense of security with no issues for a week just to have it ripped from under me. This seemed to be intentional. But what does he want with me? And to top it all off, I found myself attracted to him. Even the being in my dream was stunning. I silently yearned beneath his touch, hoping for more.

"I must be a real sicko." I say to myself.

What frightened me the most was also what thrilled me. He had complete control over me. I was merely an instrument of his will, and I was completely powerless to resist. Even now, cowering away at home, he's all I think about. It was like he was invading my thoughts and entering my mind without my permission. There was no escape from his grasp. What would happen at work? If Christian is indeed the one who has been haunting me, what will he bring to the real world?

My mind was racing through these thoughts so much that I didn't realize I had drifted to sleep…

________________________________________________

"Darling…" I hear whispered into my ear. Still in the dark, I don't quite stir. I hear a chuckle. "You didn't want to fall asleep, and yet here you are."

Familiar voice. I think.

I slowly start to wake up and attempt to open my eyes. "Christian."

He chuckles again. "Not quite." I feel a thumb carressing my cheek.

I bolt right up and open my eyes wide. It's him but with a white eye. I look around quickly and notice I'm in the same place as before, but I'm placed on a chaise.

"What's going on? You're definitely Christian. Why are you doing this?" I rush out.

He just smiles and shakes his head. "I'm not Christian, but I can see why you might think that." He pauses, looking at me with a knowing expression. "The truth is, I'm someone who's not entirely different."

He turns his back to me and walks across the room, still talking to me. "As for 'why' It's fun?" He laughs again. This time is throaty and loud.

He's speaking in riddles and obviously enjoying himself. I don't think this is funny at all. In fact, i'm starting to get pissed off. "Well, I'm glad you think torturing me is funny, but this is not a game."

He turns back to face me. "That's where you have it wrong. It IS a game."

"Well, I don't want to play. I want to go home."

"No." He says simply

"No?"

"No." He repeats calmly.

"I don't have time for this shit, Christian or not Christian. Whatever you are. I'm not playing anymore." I try to stand up and stumble. My legs aren't quite awake; I must've been out for awhile.

"Sit." A deep voice speaks in my ear. But the thing is still across the room. Smiling.

Just like before, my body moves on its own. And I'm forced to sit back down.

"And shut up." He sits in that same chair like it's a throne. "You ask a lot of questions. I'm not sure you want to know all the answers. I'm not sure it matters."

I scoff. "Of course it matters. You've been stalking me for weeks. Controlling me in my dreams. And then, you or not you walks into my job. So either answer my questions, send me back, or kill me and get it over with, if that's your plan."

I'm hoping he doesn't call my bluff, but it's clear that he is aware of my fear, but I do not know how. Maybe I can throw him off by pretending to be brave.

He laughs again. "You're funny. I'm not going to kill you. I might hurt you. But you'll like that."

I shivered as my mind wandered through the possibilities. "So, what do you want?"

"You. I thought that was clear." He says, tilting his head slightly.

Clearly, he's trying to be vague. "Yes, that is clear. What do you want to do with me, besides play to play?"

"That's it. Mostly…" He smirks as if he knows a secret.

I study him. "What are you?" He looks like a man, but I know he's not. Not entirely. As he said.

He tsks and shakes his head. "Again, you ask too many questions. If I told you everything now, what fun would I miss out on watching you try to figure it out? You're going to wake up now. But i'll be seeing you soon."

I feel myself being tugged from this place. I wasn't ready to leave quite yet. My curiosity was getting the better of me.

"Wait. Will you at least tell me your name?" I ask before I'm pulled away completely.

As I lay down and my eyes slowly close, I look at his face, mouth not moving but I hear that same deep voice whisper again into my ear just before drift into darkness. "Mito."

[malarign]

death by the window

(when you die all alone)

contains: angel!Sunghoon x fem!reader | genre: angst? fluff? honestly idk | tw! mention of death, hospitals, and unspecified disease, y/n is dying lonely (is she though?), please read at your own discretion | wc: 0,9k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i wrote it long time ago but honestly i love this one, this is my personal favorite, writing it brought me ultimate comfort, hope you’ll like it ❤️

After years of dealing with multiple hospitals, you decided to end treatment. It wasn’t an easy decision, but telling about this all of your closest family and friends was even worse, even more than dealing with a fatal disease. You were tired of waiting and not living your life the way you wanted. There were so many things on your to-do list like for example bungee jumping, scuba diving in Australia, sightseeing Paris at midnight, Harry Potter marathon with your friends, going to a fast food restaurant all dressed up, painting in a field full of flowers and most importantly finally seeing Wanzhou Waterfall in China.

That’s why you spent past few months and saved up the energy to be able to tick most of those things off. And you did apart from the last one. Even though it was your most desired dream you weren’t disappointed, thought that maybe if not that disease you wouldn’t be able to make it come true at the back of your mind.

It was a rainy evening when you felt that death was near. As if you knew your time was coming to an end you dialed your dearest friends and family’s numbers, talking to them as if nothing was happening. You shared sweet memories and thoughts, laughter and giggles filling your apartment.

“Mom, I think I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m pretty tired. I’ll see you tomorrow though,” you said calmly, with a single tear blurring your vision.

“Of course, honey. I love you so much,” she exclaimed on the other side of the line.

“I love you too,” you whispered and ended your last call. You stared blankly at your wall full of pictures, full of memories you made. This reminded you how blissful you felt at that exact moment.

You thoughts were disrupted when you felt somebody else's presence in the living room, and because of living alone out of fear your heartbeat increased and the palms of your hands became sweaty. Slowly you turned around on the couch to face the window. That’s where you saw a silhouette of a man.

“Who are you and why are you in my apartment?” you asked with a trembling voice.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” the figure said calmly slowly taking a few steps forward now standing in more illuminated place. His facial features became more visible along with pair of two, white-feathered, strong yet delicate wings. You felt like all of your worries faded away along with fear of a mysterious man, or more precisely, a mysterious angel. That’s when you knew. “My name is Sunghoon, and I’m your guardian angel.”

His deep voice was calm just like his appearance. His short black hair falling on his equally dark eyes. His posture was firm but soft at the same time. And his wings? Safe to say they were the most beautiful and grande thing you’d ever seen. White feathers covering them made them seem as fragile as the way he seemed. While looking at him, you felt like time and all the pain you had been feeling had stopped. At this ecstatic moment, your eyes filled with tears. Were you ready? Is death even something to be ready for? While those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind, you started crying without any notice. Without any questions Sunghoon sat next to you, bringing you closer in between both his arms and glorious wings.

“Nobody can be ready for leaving close ones. It’s not something to be embarrassed about Y/n.” You heard not even surprised that he knew what you were thinking about. “I promise that I did everything I could, but sometimes even Heavens can’t predict or get in the way of somebody’s fate. I was there with and for you for beautiful 21 years, experiencing your first friendships, first arguments with parents, first diagnosis, and all those wonderful adventures,” he answered all of your questions you didn’t even know you wanted to ask while pointing at the pictures on the wall. You followed after his fingers crossing around all of the photos. You smiled and looked at Sunghoon saying: “I think I’m ready to go now”.

He returned a smile and shook his head. “No, you’re not, Y/n,” he rejoined covering her vision with his wings. “There is one last thing you need to see.”

When he revealed the view, you realised you were no longer in your apartment in a rainy city. You were in the middle of the beauty of Wanzou Waterfall. Speechlessly you watched as the clear cascades of water fell with a soft splash. The temple hidden between waterfall standing proudly and firmly as if it was welcoming you to explore all of it’s secret paths and mysterious chambers.

You turned around rapidly to face Sunghoon. “How did you…” you stopped when you saw shy eyebrow raise on his face and sheepish smile.

“I know you better than anybody else, and I loved it whenever you were dreaming about this place. I just knew I had to take you here before… you know before what.” He said sctratching the back of his neck. You ran to sink in his embrace not knowing what to say in a situation like this.

“How much time do I have?” You mumbled against his chest.

“Don’t worry about time. You can stay here as long as you want” His answer made you look up and pull away form his warm arms. You ran, wanting to explore the place for as long as you could. And you did, along with your best friend, your angel.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @edensgardenn (in bold can’t be tagged)

[thelaundrybitch]

Sniped - The sexy sequel

Well, Turtle Doves,

I couldn't leave well enough alone. My brain kept going back to play in the gutters. Until we ended up right back in the sewers with that beautiful purple genius.

So, here is my garbage mind, for you to enjoy.

Y'all have @t-annuki to thank for this. Bayverse Sniper Donnie won't leave me alone. Go check out their incredible artwork and give their page a like 🙌💜

18+ content - for mature audiences only!

Warning: Friendship, love, some hurt, and still... a very thirsty bitch

NSFW & F!Reader

Reblogs only, please!

Sniped - The Sexy Sequel

It had been nearly a year since you were saved by the purple banded bara. He had brought you back to the safety of the camp and directly to his colossal lab and medical facility. He gave you a thorough examination to check for injuries and then brought you to the chow hall for some sustenance. That’s where you got to meet the rest of his brothers.

They were all quite lovely, and you made friends with them quickly. However, you found yourself continually being drawn to none other than the sniper, himself.

There was just something about him.

He was almost always calm with a cool temperament.

He made you feel safe. And important.

The genius had recognized your need to be helpful early on, and always found a small project you could work on while he was working on something bigger and brainier.

Speaking of brainier… He was intelligent beyond belief.

But! He was also fun. He had an extensive collection of old board games and thousands of movies and tv shows downloaded on thumb drives. He was the one that insisted, then set up movie night every Friday for the entire encampment, on an old drive-in screen he and his brothers had salvaged at the beginning of the apocalypse.

And what happens when crossing big brains with fun? Sass and wit that would knock even the best comedian flat on their behind.

Everyone referred to him as Sass-Master-Tello because he was the biggest wise-ass on the compound by far.

But don’t let all of that fool you, because the man was also an absolute force to be reckoned with.

Nobody dared cross him or anger him. You saw him angry once. And you had said a small prayer for the wolf-man that knocked Don’s laptop off his desk and onto the cement flooring of the lab, successfully shattering it.

Mike had told you that was just a small temper tantrum, and to wait until someone hurts the ones he cares for the deepest.

You tucked that information away for later. You never wanted to upset Don. You wanted to continue being his go-to person for all of his needs. You yearned to be his closest friend… Hoping to someday be one of those he cared for the deepest.

Ok, so it was more than just something about him. It was more like somethings.

A lot of somethings, as it turned out.

💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜🐢💜

Standing in the lab at the table, and separating screws, nails, bolts, and washers out of an extra-large tote, you turned to ask your friend a question.

The words caught in your throat as you watched him sip the coffee you brewed for him earlier, as he read through lines of coding at his computer station. The intensity of his stare and the seriousness of his expression had your heart damn near screeching to a dead stop.  

He was gorgeous…

Butterflies erupted in your stomach the second he turned and smirked at you, giving you a flirty little wink.

Oh, fuck. 

You had a sneaky suspicion as to what those things meant. It was confirmed when he stood and walked over, leaning over you to see how things were going. The adrenaline rush through your entire being as he spoke softly into your ear, left you feeling woozy. And tingly. 

You were in love with him.

The realization hit you like a category-five hurricane.

Oh no... You couldn’t be. He was your best friend. This might ruin everything you had built with all of them. You had to keep yourself in check. You had to stop your feelings.

But try as you may, all efforts made to stop your feelings may as well have been fuel for the fire.

Because there was no such thing as a good balance of remaining a friend and keeping one's sanity when your heart decided to go all in. 

Since the universe had a personal vendetta against you, it only made sense that, now, everything he did seemed to have an undesirable effect on you.

And your panties.

For example…

Personnel would come in to upgrade their weapons, or have their tech updated on a fairly regular basis. 

Before? No big deal.

Now? You’d need to slip out halfway through the conversation taking place. His authoritative demeanor and protective stance while he stood between you and whoever came in had you delirious with desire, squeezing your thighs together as you breathed through your want for him.

And God help you if you had a question about a task he assigned to you. That intense gaze would be fixated on you, as he turned his entirety to face your body. He had always given you his complete attention. But now, as you stood there, while he sat in his chair with his thighs spread in front of you and leaning in to see what you were unsure about, you were tripping over simple words.  

He’d give you that look, one brow ridge raised while a corner of his sexy lips pulled up into a sly smirk.

Holy hell. You could cum from that alone.   

Finally, you gave in. 

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Right?

As you found yourself yearning for more than just friendship with this turtle-man, you decided to start dressing a bit nicer.  

Cutesy skirts with a nice top. Dresses that complimented your every curve. Pants that hugged your hips and thighs just enough for you to catch him wide-eyed and jaw agape when you stood from picking up the pencil you had accidentally dropped.

Things had been going quite well for weeks. Verbal compliments on your appearance increased, and light flirting had become a daily occurrence. You took notice of how his eyes would linger when you wore certain outfits, so you tended to wear those more often.

Until one day, you came in, and he was in a mood.

He barely spoke to you, nor had he even glanced in your direction. When you asked him if he was okay, he was curt, appearing almost angry.

You brushed it off as a bad day and tried not to let it bother you. Until it became the new routine.

Sadness filled your heavy heart more and more each day you came into the lab, now. You were working on almost a full month of his shit-ass attitude. If he was upset with you, he needed to pull his head out of his ass and say something.

“What is going on, Donnie? Talk to me,” you pleaded as you stood next to him at the security station.

“Just go back to your task. There’s nothing to talk about,” he dismissed you, not even giving you a glimpse and sending daggers right through your heart.

You stood there contemplating for a moment before you spoke again. “Is this it, Donnie? Is this how it’s going to be between us from now on? I thought we were friends…”  your voice trembled as you confronted his unacceptable attitude. 

When an answer never came, you turned and walked toward the double doors of the lab. Brokenhearted as your whole world came crashing down around you, it took everything you had not to let him see you fall apart. 

"Wait," he said, as you reached for the handle of one of the lab doors.

You turned to look at him, gritting your teeth behind closed lips and reigning in the suffering that he'd caused by giving you the cold shoulder for the last few weeks. Eyes glared back at him, full of anger, with a heart full of hurt.

"Don't leave," he pleaded, with a sorrowful, apologetic look on his face as he walked to meet you by the door. He reached out and watched as he placed a calloused hand just above your elbow and let it drift down to your own. Looking at your joined hands, he let his thumb trace small, sensual circles on the backside of it; a rush of fire flickered through your body, making you swallow hard. All anger vanquished the second he touched you. Looking from your joined hands to his face, your eyes went wide when you met his longing gaze.

“Don?” you whispered, eyes fluttering and stomach doing backflips as he gave you a slight yank to bring you closer to him.

“I…” he breathed out and swallowed, his eyes traveling to the floor, then back up to meet yours. “I think… I need you to come,” he said, licking his lips as his sight set itself on your mouth.

 Nodding, you let out a shaky breath, “Where?”

He looked down with a smirk and let out a low chuckle. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his upturned lips, your pulse quickening with the rumble that accompanied his moment of happiness.

Releasing your hand, he walked to the glass doors to lock them. He returned to retrieve your hand before walking you around the corner to his lab table.

As you went to sit on a stool, he stopped you, “not there.” He pulled your smaller frame in front of him, so your back was to the tall table. It was as if you weighed nothing when he lifted you and set you directly in front of him on his workspace. Gently, both hands guided your knees apart, slipping his hips snugly between your thighs and aligning his pelvis perfectly with yours. His hands slid under your legs and pulled you to the edge of the table. Your core made contact with him, resulting in you throwing your hands up to his plastron in feverish shock. Waves of carnal adrenaline thrummed through your body at his sudden physical advances and undivided attention.

Quickly, his hands moved from your legs and up to your face, cradling your jaw as he watched his thumb move across your lips. “This is my favorite outfit, but you know that, don’t you?” he purred, one of his hands moving up to let your hair cascade down out of the hair clip. 

Placing the clip on the table beside you, his other hand tangled its way to the back of your head, his lips going to your ear, “can I have you?” he breathed, his snout trailing down the outer edge of your ear to the side of your neck, then back up again, his lips teasingly brushing against the sensitive spot right below your ear.

“I don’t understand,” you gasped, not wanting him to stop, but needing an answer to the sudden change.

He pulled back, looking you in the eyes, a smug grin creeping its way across his face, “you’re gonna pretend like you have no idea how I’ve felt about you, since the first day we met?” he asked.

“You’ve wanted nothing to do with me for the last three and a half weeks,” you argued back with a pout.

“All I’ve wanted to do, is you - for the last three and a half weeks!” he admitted, completely exasperated. “God, I can’t get you out of my head! I think about you all day, I dream about you, I can barely concentrate!” He confessed, moving your hands from the front of his plastron to his sides. 

“Then why were you so cold?” you asked, hurt seeping into your voice.

Sighing, his hands dropped to your hips. “I was trying to keep myself in check. We're friends, and I didn't want to ruin it. And I was doing fine until you decided to start showing more interest in my work. And in me,” he told you. “I knew if I didn’t distance myself, I was gonna end up falling even harder… for you...” he trailed off softly, looking down. “I want nothing more than for you to be mine.”

Relief washed over you as your eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling in surprise. 

Was this real?

He looked up, his eyes searching your face as his hands felt their way from your hips and down the sides of your upper thighs until they found the edge of the flared, mini skater-skirt you were wearing. Finding the hem, his hands made an abrupt stop only to begin their trek back up, now underneath the material.

“And, ya know, I was doing pretty good until you started wearing these wicked things,” he accused, his voice husky, “with those delicious low-cut tank tops, hugging every one of your curves like someone painted the damn thing on you. You don’t even bother with a bra anymore,” he acknowledged, looking down at your cleavage. “Do you know, I almost lost it the first time you walked in wearing this?” he huffed with a sultry smirk.

The blush that bloomed and spread from your face to your chest was enough for him to know that you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Mmmm, of course you knew. Because you went and bought more, didn’t you?” he teased, bending forward and rubbing his snout against your nose, teasing your lips with little brushes from his.

“I wanted your attention,” you whispered, leaning in and chasing his lips, trying to get him to kiss you.

“All you have to do is ask,” he whispered, placing a quick kiss on the tip of your nose, his hands finally reaching their destination under your skirt.

Swallowing hard as he pulled back to look at you, he quirked one eyebrow ridge upward as he waited for you to ask.

He was so smug sometimes.

Unable to look him in the face, you shifted your gaze straight forward to his plastron, instead. Heat crept up from your chest, a bit bashful at what you were about to confess, “I need your affection,” you whispered. 

His head bent down to meet your now downward stare. He bumped the side of your face with his and nuzzled you a bit as you felt his lips searching for yours. The moment you tilted your face towards him, his mouth was on yours, firm and full of passion.

Both of his hands abandoned the sides of your panties, and his arms came up to wrap themselves around your torso. His hug was all-encompassing, holding you tight as if you might vanish into thin air. A deep, caring warmth emanated from his embrace as he began to churr, sending ripples of happiness straight through your heart, while leaving your head swimming with a desire for more of his affection.

His mouth moved across yours, in a sensual dance, his tongue slipping past your slightly parted lips. You gasped as your breath caught when he added some light suction to the kiss. Your hands, with a mind of their own, wandered lower to his belt buckle.

He broke the kiss for less than a moment, and you were already grasping at anything you could to pull him back down to you, hungry and desperate for more.

"Not here," he smiled with a sexy giggle, "I want to make sure you're on a soft surface before I have you squirming and gasping as I appreciate your existence, Sunshine."

Your core throbbed at his words as he lifted you off the table and carried you bridal style to his bedroom, which sat at the edge of the lab, just past his office.

His room was bathed in a purple glow, the lights popping on automatically when he walked you through his bedroom door. Once he’d set you on his bed, he reached back up your skirt and removed the lacy, black panties you decided to wear that day. Tossing them on the floor, he quickly removed his boots, followed by the rest of his attire.

In an attempt to remove what was left of your own outfit, he stopped you, "Please," he husked, "that outfit has been the bane of my existence, haunting every one of my fantasies - asleep and awake - for the last three and a half weeks. Please, please, please," he begged, "let me enjoy the slow, satisfying removal as I worship every inch of you," he finished, with a small quirk of an eyebrow ridge, climbing onto the bed, and pulling your sex to meet his mouth.

"Donnie!" you gasped as his tongue gently glided over your folds once, before expertly finding its way to your engorged jewel. His warm, silky tongue laved over the bud, shuffling between whirling, tickling, and flicking. He produced a low hum, making it sound as if you were the most exquisite meal he’d ever had. Some occasional suction had you pressing yourself closer to him as he demanded your body to give him more of your essence.

A whimper left your lips when he pulled his sinful mouth away from your needy body, only to have him pull your petals back, exposing your pearl completely. Kissing then wrapping his lips around her, he alternated between gentle suction and tiny licks with just the tip of his flattened tongue. His hands relocated and now held your hips tight to the bed, so you were unable to move even a millimeter. He had complete control over your pleasure, and he knew it.

He looked up at you between your legs, mouth still at work, watching you with those big honey-colored eyes as you couldn’t help but pant and moan his name, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket beneath you as you tried to keep your sanity. Seeing the tightening of your lower abdomen, he stopped right before you peaked.

You gulped air into your lungs at the sudden reprieve, as if you’d just been held underwater for the last fifteen minutes. Donnie pushed himself to a standing position, his impressive erection bobbing as he got up, beading at the tip. He licked his lips, looking down at you before wiping his chin with the back of his hand. 

He grabbed the waist of your skirt, taking his time as he pulled it down over your hips and past your knees. His eyes glazed over as he watched your body's lower half become more exposed. Once the skirt had been tossed to the growing pile of clothes on the floor, he crawled back onto the bed, straddled your lap, and pulled you to a sitting position. Sitting back on his haunches, his hands found the bottom hem of your tank top. He peeled it off slowly, dragging his nails softly along your sides the whole way up, his eyes drinking in the sight of your breasts as they slid out of the built-in bra and bounced, grateful to be free.

He’d barely gotten rid of your top before his lips were on yours again. Lying you back down on the bed, he left a path of open-mouthed kisses from your lips, to your jaw, and down your neck.

A throaty, satisfied moan left him as he drew one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, and sucking ever so gently. Reflexively, your hands moved affectionately over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating his beautiful physique.

“Donnie,” you gasped when he nibbled one bud, while pinching the other, causing your stomach muscles to tighten, and your thighs to clench. A wet warmth trickled between your legs and onto his bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, getting up for a moment and tugging you up with him. Pulling you over him, so you were straddling his lap, he moved his legs apart to bring your hovering sex closer to his. His finger slid between your petals, swirling your slick in circles, teasing as he spread the dampness of your core, before lining himself up against your entrance. 

Locking eyes with you, he whispered, “I’m gonna make sure that I give you the best damn orgasm of your life, so you’ll never want anyone except for me, ever again.”

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[multifandom-worlds]

My Little Miss Sunshine

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 875

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Fem reader

Authors Note: This came from a discussion with @holdmytesseract a while back!

“Put your hands together for Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans, Robert Downey Jr, and Tom Hiddleston!”

I walk on stage with my three costars amongst roaring applause. Doing interviews with Seb and Chris is always one of my favourite things. They are both effortlessly funny and great at speaking - the only trouble is they are terrible secret keepers. Especially Chris, his facial expressions give everything away. I take my seat after waving to the audience, sitting at the end with Sebastian in the middle and Chris on the other end, closest to the host. Robert was in a chair beside me. We were there as PR for the new Marvel movie that just came out, which hosted a new character played by my secret long-term girlfriend, my little Miss Sunshine. That’s what everyone on set calls her, too, due to her always smiling and being super bubbly.

The interview started as most PR interviews do - the hosts trying to get information about the movie - thank God my Tom counterpart isn’t here to give anything away. 

“I hear a new member is joining the Marvel cast.” the host began, and Sebastian, RDJ and Chris immediately turned to face me.  Oh boy, here we go.

RDJ was the first to speak, “Little Miss Sunshine, as she’s affectionately nicknamed. She and Tom have been flirting relentlessly the whole time filming was going on.” 

The audience laughs, and I laugh along with them because it is true. I did flirt relentlessly with her, but it came so quickly, given our history. “She was cast as someone for Loki to flirt and tease; why would I not flirt with her?” I respond to Robert's prodding with a slight chuckle. Nobody knew about Sunshine and me, and I did wish to keep it that way. Although we did talk backstage before I came on about letting our secret out - although she didn’t like the idea, she was okay if it made the interview easier for me. I kept that fact at the forefront of my mind if needed.

RDJ retorts, “On screen, yes, but you were flirting with her off-screen, too, Tom! It was constant.”

Sebastian and Chris echo his thoughts, much to the audience's approval. I chuckle, knowing our ten-year-old secret would be told today, and I did my best to continue denying it. “I’ve known Sunshine for years; our families are friends. I used to flirt with her years ago, which is why flirting with her came so naturally on screen.” I had hoped that explanation would suffice, even though I knew it would cause more questions.

“A photo has been doing its rounds online of you and her engaging in a rather intimate moment off stage. Can you explain that?” The host asks as the picture in question appears on the screen behind us. I saw the kiss I was sharing with her and knew she could see it from where she was standing backstage.

Running my hands through my hair, I gave everyone what they wanted to know. “That was when filming for the movie officially wrapped up. I was so proud of her; having never acted, she did so well.”

“And why a kiss? Especially one as passionate as that? Why not a hug like most of the cast?” The host prods. Everyone, including my three costars, watched me intently, wanting to hear the truth.

“That’s because Little Miss Sunshine has been my girlfriend for ten years.” 

The audience erupts in cheers and applause while Robert, Chris and Sebastian look at me, completely stunned. Honestly, I'm shocked that they never put it together until now. I laugh, seeing the reaction to the reveal and watching the realization dawn on their faces.

“That’s why you two were always sneaking off together!” Chris yells with a laugh. “Ten years? TEN? I’ve known you for almost ten years; how am I only learning this now?”

“How did you two first start dating?” The host questions. The question caught me off guard, afterall I wasn’t planning to be asked about my relationship. 

“As I mentioned,” I began, adjusting my glasses, “Our families are friends, so we grew up together. We had lost contact for several years once my acting career took off, and admittedly it was mostly my fault. She would text me, and I would just not answer her due to my schedule. One day she just stopped texting me, and I figured she had found someone, so I left it. It wouldn’t be until five years later that we reconnected at her my sister’s wedding, of all places. They remained close through all these years. I was hooked when I saw her again, saw the woman she became. All my feelings for her throughout our teenage years came flooding back to me. Now that I'm thinking about it, I suspect that was their plan all along.”

 A soft smile pulls on my lips, remembering how we danced together all night. “That was the happiest I had been since I started acting. Luckily I had broken up with my girlfriend at the time months before, so I asked her to be my girlfriend that night. Thankfully she said yes. We’ve been together ever since and I could not be happier.”

[dxxxth]

"I used to use Tumblr back in the day. It was a place where I could be anyone I wanted, where nobody judged me for who I was but rather for the subjects I enjoyed. The rain and music I would play on my Tumblr—decades before LoFi became mainstream—created a sense of peace on my page, even though times in my life were darker than the thunderstorms heard on my profile.

I grew up always wondering why I see things—things that other people don't see. I thought I was crazy, thought I was worthy of being locked away and thrown into some loonie bin. It's like being in an acting class, crying on the floor in a ball, while all your closest family and friends stare into the soul you thought God didn't give you.

It was nighttime. I had just been up all night playing with my friends on the Xbox 360—Uno, of all things, which wouldn't be allowed on the internet these days. It was nearing 4 am. I had one of those huge projection televisions I would play my games on. I'd sit in a chair before my TV, laughing and having a blast in game chat. I got off the game and told my friends I'd see them online tomorrow. None of them were my real-life friends.

I was sort of a bad kid in school. Everyone knew me, but I didn't care to make friends. I guess I was mysterious, which is why people were attracted to me. Anyway, I held the circle Xbox button on the controller to turn my Xbox off. If anyone knows about those early 2000s projection TVs, they usually go straight to a black screen, mirroring myself sitting in the chair before it.

I was… but I was not the only one in this TV reflection. For what felt like minutes, but I can only assume was seconds, there was a small dark figure standing behind me—not reflecting from my ceiling fan light, but dark enough to block out the lime green walls in my room.

I sat there in shock, wondering if what I was seeing was a glitch in the TV or someone who had crept in through the doors of my room. My room was attached to a side deck outside. I leaned forward, hoping to somehow get answers without turning around and getting jump scared by my sister, wearing some Harry Potter costume to scare the living daylight out of me.

I stood up and put my controller on the TV. The moment I turned around—nothing but the blinds on my sliding deck door shifting left to right. I jumped… I nearly wet myself. I ran over, hoping to catch my sister running away from my porch, pulling the door open, only to notice that the door was locked. Not only was it locked, but I had kept a 2 by 4 on the other side, so if someone somehow managed to unlock the door from the other side, I would still be kept safe by them not being able to slide the door open.

It was at this moment reality sank in. This wasn't a glitch on my TV, and this sure wasn't my sister sneaking in to jump scare me during the night. That night, I fell asleep in the living room, which was connected to my room. I woke up in my bedroom, which made me question if that whole night was actually a dream or whether it even happened at all."

[kokorowoutsu]

-- RP: @skullboneandunown

skullboneandunown:

Donnie taps his hiking stick on the ground. "Oh yeah, she sealed that thing up good. Nobody will be getting to Terapagos for the foreseeable future. And that's for the best." He had some questions about the Primal Beast, but he had a feeling he already knew about it. "Oh, then I'll be sure to stop by when my arms stop tingling." He wants to tell her about Morgan, but that will have to wait when Willow isn't around. Xavier nods at Leon, and turns his wheelchair around. "If you'd like, you're more than welcome to come visit the school before you make a decision." He feels the pulse of energy Ashe gives off, and raises an eyebrow. The room goes quiet as she speaks up, and both Donovan and Flannery are speechless for a few moments. Mewtwo and Donnie's father gaze at the pair, anticipating their answer. "Well.....You are the closest thing I have to a sister. Don't tell Kris that, she'll flip....So you're practically family already." Flannery nods. "Yeah. You've been through so much since we fist met you, and while I'd like to hope something like Area Zero doesn't happen again, we're up to the task of taking care of her if something does happen." Donovan nods, and gives the pair a smile. "Agreed. Things have started getting a bit crazy. We need to be there for each other for when shiiii....." He trails off as he eyes Willow. "..... For when things get out of hand."

Hearing their acceptance, Ashe offers a grateful smile. "I'm glad to hear it." Knowing Willow would grow up safe and sound amongst family and friends no matter where she went, it settled Ashe's mind a lot. That being said, they hadn't come just to ask that -- although that had been the main reason. Willow appeared none the wiser as she went back to reading with Mewtwo. Approaching Donovan, she pulled out a old book that Ashe had kept of her journey in that strange region. "I want you to have this. I recorded as much as I could with pictures and dialogue. Maybe you can make some sense of the pokemon and region that's there." Her look becomes distant as she recalls her time there, moving to rub her temples.

By now, Leon had side-eyed his wife to make sure she was okay, but seeing she would be fine, he went back to talking with Flannery. "How much do you know of what happened in Area Zero...? We got cut out about halfway through the fight, I assume. The next thing Ashe and I both saw were three strange pokemon that we brought to the surface and that Miss Morgan had been there despite the steel-type energy in the air." He hoped Flannery could clue him in at most since he had been the conscious one of the pairing.

Willow, meanwhile, had zoned out on reading and was now swinging her legs back and forth, humming some kind of melody that was rather off-key. "Hey Mewt'? Let's go outs'de! I want t' see the pokm'n!"

[gukyi]

the art of the rom-com | jjk

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

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as you can pick your teammate. 

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

Shit. 

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

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

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

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

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

Right above is your response to his comment. 

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

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

Your fists tighten by your side. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

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

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

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

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

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

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

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

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

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

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

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

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

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

Jungkook: miss you already <3

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

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

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

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

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

In a way, you suppose it kind of is. 

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

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

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

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

Well, she’s got you there. 

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

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

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

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

Dear Professor Pollack,

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

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I can’t change partners?”

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

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

“That’s life,” she corrects. 

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

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

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

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

“You’ll find a way.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

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

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

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

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

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

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

Yeah, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“We’ll be the stars.”

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Of what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you in?”

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

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

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

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

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

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

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

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

You smile up at him. 

“I guess we will.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Either.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say that about everything.”

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

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

And you? 

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

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

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

“No reason,” you say, looking away. 

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes. 

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

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

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

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

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

Hopefully not. 

“Sort of?”

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

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

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

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you?”

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

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

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

Can’t you?

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

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

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great,” you deadpan. 

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

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

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

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

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says. 

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

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

You don’t like the sound of that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you explain what you mean by that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.” 

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

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

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

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

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

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

You shake your head back at him. 

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

It’s strange. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? About what?”

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

“Us?”

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

If he says so. 

“Hey! Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments. 

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

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

“Do you really need to do that here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talki—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” Jungkook says. 

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

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

“I appreciate it,” you say. 

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

Like you even have a choice. 

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

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

It smells like him. 

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

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

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?” You prompt. 

“Promise.”

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

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

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

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

“So,” Jungkook echoes. 

Silence. 

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

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

“We already know each other.” You frown.

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

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

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

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

“Red,” Jungkook responds. 

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

“What about you?”

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

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

“This project is different,” you insist. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…” 

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And let me love you, baby…”

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

“Let me love you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was that, Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re alright.”

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

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn. 

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

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

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

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

Then, you take a seat right next to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

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

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

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

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

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

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

“Thank God,” you mutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook clearly does not believe you. “Really? You still hate me? I’m sure you do.”

“Okay, I don’t hate you. But still,” you relent again. Perhaps you’re just being oddly soft today. Too lenient for your own good. 

Jungkook grins, cheeks little round circles as his lips curve up. “I know you like me. You just can’t admit it to yourself, can you? Can’t take that blow to your dignity.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you chide. 

“Who knows?” Jungkook tacks on, just to be extra annoying. “Maybe you’re actually starting to fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

Jungkook doesn’t ask the question the same way he’s asked all of the other ones. Doesn’t say it with a shit-eating grin on his face or that glint in his eyes. He’s asking because he’s curious. Curious if what he’s been doing has been working. Curious if this project is really accomplishing anything at all. 

Funnily enough, you find yourself wondering the exact same thing.

Silent, you pausing for a moment to think, chewing on the inside of your lip. Jungkook’s looking back at you, lips curled upwards as he waits for a response. Ugh, you’ll just have to give it up. What else can you say? “I guess…” you begin, hesitating. 

You aren’t sure why you’re so scared to respond. Maybe you’re just worried that things will change if you say something. If you tell him the truth. 

But it’s just Jungkook. He’s sitting in front of you patiently, waiting for your answer. What could happen?

You confess. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

Even though this is not the first time you’ve ever been out on a “date” (you’re using that word tentatively), picking out what to wear isn’t any easier than the last time. 

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

Ruby shrugs on the other end of the video call. Her phone is propped up on her desk as she works on something on her laptop, glancing over every now and then whenever you prompt her to respond. “Well, that depends. Do you wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“Then it might be too sexy,” Ruby says easily. “What are you even doing? I thought you didn’t go out on dates.”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, although you’re not exactly sure which of the two of you you’re trying to convince. 

“You’re asking me what kind of sexy dress to wear for a night out with a guy. It’s a date,” Ruby reminds you, economical as always. “Who are you even going out with, anyway? You just called and asked me to pick between two dresses I have literally never seen you wear before.”

“That’s because I don’t go out on dates, which this is not,” you tell her, even expending the energy to stare into the camera to hammer your point home. “And it’s with Jungkook.”

Ruby shuts her laptop at that. You can hear the sound of her keyboard clacking as the lid hits them. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do I need to remind you that this is not a date and therefore, you don’t need to be acting like I just told you I’m getting married.” You frown at her. “It’s just for our movie. Jungkook wants me to dress nicely, though.”

“Wear that nice summer dress you have,” Ruby instructs instead, shooing away the two much sexier options you’re currently holding in your hands. “Just put tights on underneath if you’re cold.”

“This one?” You ask, shuffling through your closet until you produce the gingham dress, plaid a pale yellow that matches gold jewelry rather well. 

“Yes, that one. I like that one,” Ruby says with a nod. “You look good in it.”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not appropriate.” You hesitate. It’s a cute dress, sure, but it seems too… casual. Too everyday. Jungkook’s taking you out to dinner, and no doubt he’s got something else planned for the rest of the evening. 

“I mean, you did say you had no plans on fucking him tonight,” Ruby reminds you coarsely. 

“I have no plans on fucking him at all,” you reiterate. “This is not a date. It is for our movie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby brushes you off with a wave of her hand. “Wear whatever you want, but I like your yellow dress the most. It looks really nice on you. And if it’s not a date, then neither you nor Jungkook should care.”

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up. 

You end up wearing the yellow dress. Jungkook knocks on your apartment door just as you’re closing the clasp to your necklace, a gold choker your mother had gifted you for a birthday a couple of years ago. It’s nothing much. You grab a jacket on your way to answer the door, wrapping it around your figure as you twist the knob. 

On the other side is Jungkook, all decked out in black jeans and a clean-cut leather jacket, the black ensemble striking against his warm-toned skin and bleached, blonde hair. You hate to admit it, but he actually does look rather good. For Jeon Jungkook. 

“Hi—whoa,” Jungkook says, doing a little whistle when he sees you, eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

“You, uh…” Jungkook stammers slightly, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. The movement lifts his arm up just enough for you to see the line of his waist, the seamlessness of his body. He’s always been rather fit. “You look nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you chide, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins. 

You press a hand to your heart dramatically. “I’m touched.” You begin walking down the hallway of your small apartment building, feeling your hands brushing by your sides due to how skinny the corridor is. At least, that’s what you assume. 

“Where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook opens the door to the passenger side of his car for you. 

He winks, that same gleam in his eye. He grins something wicked. “Don’t you remember?” He asks. “It’s a secret.”

The secret turns out to be a small Italian restaurant on an off-road in the center of town, a family joint with those plaid red tablecloths and dark wooden chairs. You’d never heard of the place before tonight, but Jungkook insists that it’s delicious and says it has a four-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, which is obviously gospel when it comes to restaurants. It’s so empty that he even has room to prop up the camera a couple of tables away to get that wide-angle shot of the both of you, two souls in a tiny little restaurant, enjoying a night out on the town. You’re sure that by the time production and post-production rolls around you’ll edit out most of your dialogue, but you like the idea of keeping in snippets of the audio, overlaying the scene with a soft instrumental. 

From a director’s point of view, of course. No other reason to romanticize your night with him. 

It’s nice. Objectively, it’s definitely one of the more exciting things you’ve done in a while, even if it’s just a dinner out in town, away from campus. It’s new. Adventurous. Jungkook convinces you to try his vodka shrimp linguine and you offer up some of your truffle-flavored gnocchi, which he devours happily. One thing you do learn is that no matter how much time passes, no matter how much food is on his plate, Jungkook eats and eats and eats. He never seems to fill up. This is one of those restaurants that pile your bowls high with pasta, give you at least three servings, send you home with to-go packages that will last you for days, and he still somehow manages to eat every last bite. He even has some of your leftovers. 

Jungkook pays because he insists and says that you shouldn’t fight on camera, which you have no choice but to agree to. However, you do look him up on Venmo and send him twenty dollars to cover your half of the bill, because the idea of him paying for you doesn’t sit right with you. It was fine with the coffee, a small token of repayment after spilling it all over you, but dinner just feels like too much. Like he’s carrying most of the weight and you aren’t shouldering enough. Like he’s putting in all of the effort and you are just bandwagoning off of him. 

And partnerships aren’t supposed to be like that. Jungkook isn’t supposed to do all of the work. You aren’t supposed to do nothing. You and Jungkook may not agree on much but you both know that you are equals. That what you put in is what you get out. 

It’s a lesson you think you learned too late, but you won’t make those mistakes again. You’ll get it right this time. 

“That was nice,” Jungkook says after the dinner. You’re walking through the park just across the street now, the sun having set and the streetlamps illuminating your path. The city has strung up lights along the trees, draped them over the branches like stars, like snowflakes. It’s picturesque. 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for taking me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“How did you discover that place?” You ask, just out of curiosity. It’s not exactly the kind of restaurant that would be front and center on Google. 

“I went out on a date in freshman year there,” Jungkook admits, lips pursed awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Did it at least go well?” You ask, trying to be hopeful. 

“If it did, do you think I’d still be here doing this with you?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. 

You chuckle to yourself. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ll find your person.”

“You actually believe in that stuff now?” Jungkook asks you, skeptical. 

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You do. I don’t wanna ruin it for you. Your person’s out there somewhere.”

“How do you know I haven’t already found my person?”

You stop in the middle of the path, feet coming to a halt on the pavement. Jungkook looks at you and you look back at him, letting his question sink into your skin, etch itself into your thoughts. He’s asking you because he wants to know. He looks so genuine, so patient, like he’s trying to find an answer somewhere in your eyes but you can’t give him one. 

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”

Jungkook sighs. “I don’t know if it always works like that.”

You smile, soft and small. Musing, you say, “well, when you figure it out, let me know.”

“Do you think you’ve found your person?” Jungkook asks you. 

“You know I don’t think about love like that,” you remind him. 

“Well, how do you think about it?”

You gaze up at him once more, that same soft smile playing on your lips. Who is he to be asking you these questions, you wonder to yourself. What would the point be in answering him? It’s better if you just both moved on. Especially since stuff like this has no relevance to your project. 

“I don’t really think about love at all,” you say curtly. 

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook. 

The look in your eyes is distant. “Yeah.” You wish you did, too.

“How about we do a couple of quick shots, right here?” Jungkook suggests, pulling out the camera. “Just here, the lighting’s nice.” He jogs back a couple of feet, lining himself up with where you stand, kneeling on the pavement with the camera held up to his eye. 

“What do you want me to do?” You call to him, feeling like a fish out of water in front of the lens, thumbs twiddling. 

“Just smile,” Jungkook requests simply. “Say hi to me.”

Sounds easy enough. Under the twinkling lights of the trees, in the haze of their warm yellow glow, you wave to Jungkook, smiling happily. You aren’t exactly sure what the purpose of these shots are, but you suppose you could always use some artistic frames in your movie. Grinning, you keep your eyes trained on him, on the way you can see him smiling back at you even from behind the camera. His eyes are covered, you can’t see those, but you hope they’re smiling too. 

“Okay, my turn,” you say when a little too much time has passed, when it’s just past the point of filming for the sake of a movie and more for the sake of something else. “Get over here.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You scurry over to Jungkook, taking the camera from his hands and pushing in in the general direction of where you were just standing. Situating yourself, you kneel right where Jungkook was, bringing the camera to your eyes. 

Through the lens, you can see the entire width of the pathway, the grass that borders it, the lights decorating the branches of the trees, and Jungkook, front and center. He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing there, waiting awkwardly as he gazes around, eyes drifting everywhere but exactly where you need them: you. He looks good like this, looks much taller, much more romantic. Like a real movie star. Like a model. His clothes make him blend in with the darkness of the night but his eyes are still shimmering, golden flecks twinkling, even from all the way over here. 

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film. 

Jungkook grins your way. 

Afterwards, you give him his camera back and continue walking, turning the corner as you reach the edge of the park, ready to circle around the perimeter.

“How about we hold hands, too?”

“Excuse you?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

“Come on, just for a second,” Jungkook pleads. “For the artistry. I’ll film us holding hands like all those Los Angeles boys do in YouTube vlogs.”

You look at him suspiciously. Is he sure it’s just for the artistry? “What a great example.”

“Please? Promise I always put hand cream on,” Jungkook asks, bottom lip turned outwards. 

It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him. 

“Fine,” you cave rather easily this time around. “Just for a minute.”

“Excellent.”

Jungkook lifts the camera up to his eye with his right hand as he holds out his left, palm facing the sky as he waits for you to rest your own in his. You narrow your eyes to the camera before your gaze drifts downwards to his open hand, almost like you’re afraid it’s going to jump out and bite at you if you get any closer. But it won’t, because it’s a hand. And it won’t, because it’s just Jungkook. 

The first thing you realize when your fingers intertwine with his is how big his hands are. They are massive. His left one dwarfs your own, wrapping around it securely, enveloping it like a king-sized comforter. The second thing you realize is how soft they are (he must not have been lying about the hand cream). The third thing you realize is the way they send sparks up and down your body, send tingles through your skin, shocks through your veins. You seize up a little bit at the feeling before your body finds it in itself to relax, letting the sensation wash over you like a wave from the ocean. 

It’s new. 

It’s strange. 

You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Felt those sparks, those jolts of energy. Like lightning has struck. 

Jungkook moves so that your hands are held out in front of you, making sure to adjust the lens just so he can get the exact right angle, but all you can focus on is the way your fingers interlock, the way your hand settles into his. 

You wonder what that means. 

The moment Jungkook lowers the camera you pull your hand away, overwhelmed and scared and shocked all at once. Like you’re afraid that if you reach out to him again, your whole body will freeze in place, shake like the wind. 

Jungkook looks at you, concern lacing his features. “You alright?” He asks, genuine and worried. 

You shake your head, willing those thoughts away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You get the shot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says. 

“And how do they look?” You ask because you can’t help yourself. Because you just have to know. 

Jungkook pauses, not sure how to respond. He chews on his lips like he’s running through all the possible answers, trying to figure out which one is right. You almost think he’s not going to reply at all, but then he smiles, and he says this: 

“Magical.”

It feels weird for you to be arriving at Kim Taehyung’s door without Jungkook by your side. Doesn’t sit right in your stomach. 

Of course, Taehyung is as hospitable as always, welcoming you inside with his signature warm grin as he sets up the bar stools by the bedsheet, which you assume he will just not take down until your project’s over. Hopefully he’s getting use out of it otherwise, shooting nudes or whatever it is he said he would do. 

“Thanks for having me,” you say, resting your backpack against the foot of his couch as you set up the tripod, arranging it in just the right spot. It’s not Jungkook’s fancy camera that you’ve got with you, just your own from a couple years ago, but it’ll get the job done. You couldn’t ask Jungkook to borrow his, anyway. You’d pass away before he found out you did this. 

“We might not use this footage,” you warn in advance. “I just figured it’s safer to film everything just in case.”

“Why wouldn’t you use it?” Taehyung asks, genuinely curious. 

“Because I don’t know if this conversation will really have a point,” you say nervously, fingers fidgeting with the settings until everything’s just right. 

“I’m sure it’ll be important,” Taehyung assures you. You’re not so confident. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes, everything’s all set up,” you say, concentrating on your breathing as you make your way to the stool. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Why are you so worried?

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling right now?” Taehyung begins. 

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

“I… I don’t really know what direction I’m going in anymore for this project,” you say, letting yourself be candid and honest because it’s just Taehyung, and because you may not even use this footage, and because Jungkook’s not here. He doesn’t know you’ve asked Taehyung to do this for you. He doesn’t need to. 

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer. 

“How are you feeling about him?”

“I’m…” you don’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure. I just know that something’s changed.”

“Your feelings have changed?” Taehyung isn’t reacting, just asking questions in response to your answers and pretending that everything is normal, that this is just another interview. 

“I guess they have,” you admit. Even just saying that feels like a weight off your chest. A small one, five pounds out of a thousand. But it’s a difference. “I… don’t really know how I feel about him anymore.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Taehyung told you he would ask tough questions, but you don’t know if you can answer these anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling yourself growing desperate with impatience. “I don’t feel the same things about him that I used to. He’s different to me now.”

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe you’ve changed, too?”

You frown, caught off-guard by his question. No, you haven’t. You haven’t thought about that at all. Why would you? Your stance is the same. Your opinions on love haven’t changed. And neither have your convictions about this project, about the way it will end. 

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up. 

“Well, I’m no expert, but I think there might be something between the two of you that wasn’t there before,” Taehyung says, nodding. “I think that the ways the two of you have changed have brought you together.”

“I don’t know about that…” You trail off. You can feel yourself growing hesitant again, pulling back from saying too much because you’ve never been a very good speaker. Because you’ve always preferred being behind the camera to being in front of it. 

“Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?”

You scoff. At least that’s got an easy answer. A no-brainer. “No,” you say matter-of-factly, obvious because it is, stern because telling him was never an option anyway. Why else does Taehyung think you’re here without him? “Jungkook said he would get me to fall in love with him and I told him I would never. How could I ever let him think he was actually winning?”

Taehyung sighs.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since your class on Wednesday. Granted, it’s only Saturday, but it feels like it’s been a weirdly long time. Like you’re so used to him barging into your life on the daily that there’s something off about even going three days without seeing him. Maybe it’s just because you’re nearing the beginning of April and your project is finally picking up steam. Between the two of you, you almost definitely have more than two hour’s worth of footage, but the hard part will be paring it down and turning it into a forty-five minute documentary. No doubt you and Jungkook will be spending a lot of time together the week before it’s due. 

Just out of curiosity, you text him. Because you have no idea what he’s been getting up to. 

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

You: Hey, do you think we need to get together sometime this weekend?

Jungkook: i don’t think i can Jungkook: it’s my dance group’s show this weekend

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

You: I want to You: I’ll see you there!

That night, you drop by the grocery store beforehand to pick up a bouquet of flowers. You haven’t been a performing arts show for years now, especially not one where you actually know the people performing, but flowers are customary. Or so you’ve heard. 

You don’t know a single soul who has plans on seeing Jungkook’s dance group either, but the theater is a ten-minute walk away from campus and you’re happy to make the trek alone, especially because you know you’ll find someone you know soon enough. Sometimes it’s nice to walk by yourself, letting the streetlamps above your head illuminate your path, a faceless figure passing by others. It brings peace. And it gives you time to sift through your thoughts, organize them into neat little piles and brush away all of the dust. 

Admittedly, you are not much of a connoisseur of the performing arts. You aren’t even much of a consumer. In another universe, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t blink twice if you heard that one of the dance groups on campus was having their show. But this is not another universe, and these are not different circumstances. 

Jungkook will be there. He is taking something he’s worked tirelessly on and presenting it to the world. Now that you think about it, it’s actually a lot like film. And if Jungkook has devoted so much time, put so much energy into this performance, what kind of person would you be if you didn’t go and watch his creation?

You pick a seat in the far back corner, the venue so cozy that even despite being the furthest away you’ve still got an excellent view, sit down, and wait for it to begin. 

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

You: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?

Jungkook: always such a tease

You roll your eyes at that, turning your phone off and stowing it away in your pocket. Two minutes later, the lights dim. 

The moment Jungkook steps out onto the stage, you recognize him instantly. He’s wearing all black again, but it’s not the same skinny jeans and leather jacket he had on when he took you out to dinner. It’s a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, highlighting the blondeness of his hair, the red in his lips. He’s one of at least a dozen people on stage but he’s the only one you focus on, the only one who your eyes follow. Booming throughout the theater is a Drake song, the beat thick and low, but it’s background noise when compared to the way he moves, the way he twists and turns his body on stage, angles sharp and crisp. 

The whole song goes by so quickly that by the time you find it in yourself to blink the stage is already darkening as they move onto the next song, switching out the performers and changing the spotlight colors to a sultry red. Jungkook disappears for this one, vanishing behind the curtains and forcing you to pay attention to the performance as a whole instead of just him. But you have to hand it to his group: they’re excellent. You’ve been missing out. 

Jungkook returns with the next song, having had just enough time to change into an all-white ensemble. He’s easy to spot even with that ridiculous bucket hat on, blonde hair bouncing with every step he takes, every jerk of his body. You can see it all the way from where you sit, see the way he loses himself in the music, lets the rhythm radiate through his blood, lets his heart match the beat that booms through the speakers. This, all of it, the music, the dancing, the energy—it’s all his. It belongs to him. Jungkook may love film but he is passionate about this. It is something that must bring him all the joy in the world. 

The next hour and a half goes by quickly, the songs jumping from one to another to another, Jungkook dashing on and off stage, each time returning in a different getup than the one prior. Makes you wonder just how many clothes he has. But before you know it the final song is playing and every one, every single member is on stage, jumping and cheering and celebrating a job well done. And they should, because they deserve to. 

When the lights in the theater come on, nobody leaves. Instead, everyone rushes towards the stage to say hello to everybody, congratulate them on their performance and take pictures with their friends. That’s why everyone else is here, isn’t it? Because the people they care about performed tonight. 

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

Jungkook has plenty of other friends already wrapping their arms around him, giving him high-fives and pats on the back, but you’ve got a bouquet of assorted flowers in your hands and you have no plans on bringing them home. So you squeeze your way through the crowd, push yourself in between bodies, and you shout, 

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks up instantly at the call of his name, the round shape of his lips curving upwards into a smile when he sees you. 

“Hey, you made it!” He exclaims happily. He’s so pumped on the adrenaline that he pulls you into a hug without either of you even realizing it, wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing you tight for a few moments before the two of you remember just exactly who you both are. Quickly, you pull away, chuckling awkwardly. Jungkook scratches at the back of his head. “Thanks for, uh—thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you say happily. “You were amazing.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” Jungkook schmoozes, annoying as always. 

You scoff slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here, I brought this for you. It’s traditional, right?” You hold out the bouquet in front of you, pink plastic wrapping crunched up from where your fingers gripped the stems. 

“Wow, thank you,” Jungkook says, in awe as he takes the flowers from you, pressing his face into the petals instinctively. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Really?” You say, genuinely surprised at his admission. He’s never been given flowers before? Not even for a performance? You didn’t know that, either. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Jungkook says, though he looks grateful nonetheless. 

You shrug, acting casual. “Aren’t we supposed to be falling in love, or something?”

He grins. 

“Did you guys film this? Maybe we could incorporate it into the movie,” you suggest, thinking it might be interesting to add in glimpses into your normal lives, into the things you do when you aren’t trying to one-up each other. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but I don’t think we need to add it in.”

“Why not?” It seems like a perfect addition. 

Jungkook pulls out a single flower from the bouquet, a pale yellow daisy, and hands it to you. You smile your thanks, twirling the stem in between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he says, looking oddly soft, cheeks turning cherry red. He looks at you and it makes your heart flutter, quickens the drum of your chest. “I just think I’d like to keep this moment to ourselves.”

You suppose he’s got a point. You don’t think you’ll forget this night, either. 

The bouquet you gave him sits on Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom windowsill, bathing in the afternoon sun. Taehyung gave him some plant food the morning after you came to his performance, a little bottle that he can spritz into the water whenever the flowers look a little droopy. Jungkook adds some every day, determined to keep them alive for as long as possible. He also makes sure he’s got a rather heavy book or two, something he can use to press one of them when they’ve all shriveled up. 

It was really nice of you to come to his show, he thinks to himself. Jungkook can’t remember the last time someone outside of his group of close friends went to see him perform, not any of his past dates or even that one girl he was seeing semi-seriously for a couple months last year until she told him she wasn’t interested in him anymore. You’re the first one who’s made the effort, who’s told him that you would come and kept that promise. The flowers are just a happy reminder. 

As a celebration for completing their last show, Jungkook and some of the other juniors in his dance crew decide to go out the following weekend, determined to waste away their Saturday nights at a bar just off of campus where they can take as many shots of as many different types of alcohols as they want. The place even has soju, which makes Jungkook’s heart happy. 

Despite the temptation to drink until his brain is empty, however, Jungkook holds off. He’s got a lot of work tomorrow, most of it consisting of editing the footage you have for the project, and doesn’t really feel like staring at a computer for eight hours straight with a headache. So he limits himself. For the most part. 

“Who was that girl that came to the show?” One of his friends, Andrew, asks as he downs another shot of what is undoubtedly vodka, if the smell is anything to go by. “With the flowers?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jesse pipes up, red in the face from the alcohol in his system. He’s always been one to turn into a tomato after drinking. 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head when the bartender offers him another shot glass full of soju. “No,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Just a friend.”

“I don’t know, you guys looked pretty close to me,” Andrew points out, like it wasn’t already obvious enough that Jungkook is head over heels for you. 

“She and I are working on a film project together,” Jungkook explains, though that does absolutely nothing to convince his friends of your completely platonic relationship. 

“Sounds fun,” Jesse says, swallowing another shot and wincing. “It was nice of her to bring you flowers. My girlfriend didn’t do that.”

“Shut up, your girlfriend is studying abroad in Paris right now,” Andrew says, giving Jesse a good-natured shove. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“What, please don’t—”

“She’s not my girlfriend, guys,” Jungkook repeats himself, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer the conversation drags on. He chalks it up to the soju in his system and the fact that it feels like a sauna in here. “Seriously, we’re just friends. People can be friends and bring each other flowers.”

Jesse pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” He rounds on Andrew. “Where are my flowers, hey Andrew?”

The two of them start bickering as Jungkook laughs, shaking his head fondly. At least he’s not drunk, so he can remember nights like these, ones where he’s drinking with his stupid idiot friends, celebrating a show well done. 

Jungkook stays at the bar until eleven that night before he makes the executive decision to go home and sleep, because as much as he would like to party until three in the morning, he’s got a pile of work that’s telling him to be a real adult. So he bids his friends goodbye and begins to make the trek back to his apartment, passing by the row of frat houses on his way. 

Even though he’s out on the sidewalk, Jungkook can feel the ground rumble from the music, every frat on the block joining together to make some booming, bass monster. From here he can see the flashing blue and purple lights in the windows, see the brothers standing on the steps of each house and turning away whoever they deem unfit to enter. 

In a weird way, it makes Jungkook nostalgic. Reminiscent of when he was a freshman, when he would group up with all of the people in his hall and parade around the frat row on Saturday nights like they owned the place, getting drunk on shitty tequila and jumping until they sweat out their body fluids. He remembers those nights in flashes, bits and pieces that make up his memory of freshman year as a whole. Remembers kissing other girls, other girls kissing him. Remembers the way he would lock lips with them for a second and then forget about it by the next day. 

Jungkook wonders why he ever thought he would meet his soulmate at a frat party. 

He’s just passing the last frat house now, nodding to the guy on the step when they accidentally meet eyes, when he hears you call his name. 

“Jungkook!”

He whips around to see you on the other side of the road, waving at him excitedly while your friends all laugh, sending smiles Jungkook’s way. 

Jungkook isn’t exactly sure what the protocol is for a scenario like this, so he does what he thinks is right and waves back. 

“Come over here!” You shout at him, loosely gesturing for him to join your group. Jungkook is hesitant, not sure if that’s necessarily the best course of action because even from here he can tell that you’re drunk, leaning over to one side and giggling at nothing. But even if he isn’t sure what will happen he can’t help but fall into the way you’re beaming at him, waving excitedly because you saw him on the street and you wanted to say hello.

He’s never been able to resist you. 

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He says as he jogs over, greeting the rest of your friends with a patient smile. 

“Went out with my friends,” you say. Jungkook can smell the alcohol on your lips. “And then I saw you, which made me happy!”

You stumble over nothing, shoes skipping as they drag along the pavement, and before any of your friends can react Jungkook is reaching his arms out, catching you before you fall flat on your face. Your hands press against his torso as he lifts you back to your feet, and all Jungkook can do is pray that you can’t hear the way his heart races, beat drumming in his ears. You giggle in his hold, disoriented but not at all uneasy, looking up at him as your eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlamps. 

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out. 

“Sure,” Jungkook says, breathless. He stands you up and tries to let you go, but you keep your hands tight around his wrists. “I think we need to get you home.”

“Can you come with me?” You ask innocently, eyes wide. 

“Y/N…” One of your friends says, voice hesitant. She places a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned. Jungkook doesn’t take any offense to it, he doesn’t know your friends well and imagines that they would much prefer being the ones to drop you back at your place. 

You shrug her off. “No, it’s okay, Ruby,” you assure your friend, hand inching down Jungkook’s wrist until it rests firmly within his palm. “I’ll go with him.”

Ruby eyes Jungkook suspiciously and her gaze is so intense that it actually makes him doubt his ability to walk you home for a moment. But you seem intent on walking with him, and the sooner you go home the better, so Ruby relents and lifts her hand from your shoulder. “Alright, if you want to.” She keeps her eyes trained on Jungkook. “Text me when you’re back.”

“I will, I will,” you say, brushing her off and waving her away. “Let’s go, Jungkook. I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, come on,” he says. You smile happily at your friends as you say goodbye, cheerful and drunk and tired, all at once, and you begin to walk towards your apartment. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, positively filter-less. 

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Jungkook assures you. “What did you have to drink tonight?”

“Not sure,” you admit happily. “Just a lot.”

“I can tell.” Jungkook nods. “Were you at a frat party?”

“Several,” you correct him. “They weren’t that fun but at least the drinks were free.”

“Why were you at a frat party if you don’t like them?” Jungkook asks you, nose scrunched up. You certainly aren’t the kind of person to hide your distaste for things. That is something that Jungkook is intimately familiar with. 

You shrug. “It’s the cheapest place to get drunk.”

“Why did you want to get drunk?” This is seeming more and more out-of-character for you. Going to a place you despise, taking shots until you can’t walk straight, meandering around campus with Jungkook. All of these are things Jungkook could never in a million years picture you doing out of free will. 

Well, all of them except maybe the last one. You did come to his dance show, after all. 

You sigh. It’s thick and heavy and Jungkook has a feeling you won’t want to divulge any more. “I just wanted to forget.”

But the curiosity is eating at him. 

“Forget what?”

Your grip on his hand tightens. Jungkook fully expects you to dodge the question like you’ve dodged all of the ones prior, say something else to change the topic so you can sweep this discussion under the rug like all of the other ones you’ve had. But you don’t. 

Instead, you say, “You wanna know why I don’t love love the way you do?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jungkook quickly assures you. 

“I had better options than this place,” you say, voice hollow and empty. “There were better universities that accepted me. Ones with higher-ranked film programs and bigger scholarships. I could have gone to any one of them and been just as happy. Maybe more.”

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies. 

“My ex-boyfriend goes to school ten minutes away from here,” you say, words that are most certainly news to Jungkook. You had a boyfriend? “He and I dated all throughout high school. I thought I was gonna marry him.”

The words sound so sad. It sounds like they don’t even belong to you. Like you’re recalling the memories of a different person, someone you’ve killed and buried, someone you were certain you would never have to face again. Yourself. Your past self. 

“And then he broke up with me at the beginning of last year and it was too late to transfer out.” Your words are slurred and garbled, like all you want is to get over with saying them in the first place. It’s not a dramatic revelation. It’s not something you’re crying about, sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as you remember, miserable, a time where you were once happy. You just sound lifeless. 

Jungkook blinks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. It doesn’t feel right for him to speak up. Not when you’ve just revealed to him something so personal, so drunk that you probably won’t even remember saying anything when you wake up tomorrow morning. 

What is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to say? To do? It’s not like Jungkook can change your past. It’s not even as if he can change the near future. Your project is almost finished—the semester is almost over. And then you will return to the time where you never even knew each other. 

“You can say something,” you tell him.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook says. 

“Something to make me feel better, because now I’m sad,” you request simply. “Seeing you made me happy.”

“Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and smile, then,” he muses to himself. 

“No, please keep talking,” you plead, leaning into his body with your bottom lip puffed out, eyes big and round and desperate. “Listening to you gets me to stop thinking about this stuff.”

Hearing that, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to mind. And that is, “You don’t have to think about that stuff anymore at all.”

“Hmm?” You murmur into his chest. Jungkook sees your apartment building up ahead. Just another block or so. 

“Well, that was your old love story,” he begins tentatively. Jungkook’s almost fully sober by now but he feels like he won’t ever get another opportunity to say this, and maybe whatever soju is left in his system is enough to get him through this conversation. Enough for him to muster up the confidence to tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while now. 

Even if you forget it by tomorrow. He knows this is his only chance. 

“And it didn’t have a happy ending, but that’s okay. Because ours will.” 

You’re just coming up to your apartment complex, the rusted gold doors of the entrance sticking out against the beige of the building and the sidewalk, shimmering in the light of the streetlamps. You pause right outside, taking cover underneath the red awning above your heads. Looking up at him, you blink expectantly. 

“How do I know you mean that?” You ask. 

He almost does it. 

Jungkook doesn’t really know what washes over him in that moment, what takes his heart and mind prisoner for a split second, grip tight and unforgiving. But he’s staring straight into your watery eyes, glossy and glimmery and glowing, lost in the way you press your lips together, the way you gaze up at him and wait for him to tell you what he’s always wanted to say, and he almost does it. His hands press at your sides, holding you close, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go you’ll vanish without another trace and this night will all have been for naught. 

But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t for a lot of reasons. You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, you will not remember this conversation. But Jungkook will. And if he does it, if he kisses you, if he presses his lips to yours it will be burned into his thoughts, carved into his heart, and you will be none the wiser. Jungkook can’t do that to himself. And he can’t do that to you, either. He will never take advantage of your company. He never has.

“Because,” Jungkook says instead, having hesitated for far too long. “I promise you.”

It’s good enough for him. 

He tucks you into bed at 12:17AM that night, feet padding along your hardwood floor so he doesn’t wake up your neighbors, guiding you to your bedroom and reminding you to text Ruby that you made it home safely. Jungkook’s never gotten a very good look at your place, and even now it’s hard to make out most things without the main ceiling lights on, but he doesn’t really want to snoop. Even though you invited him in, he still feels like he’s intruding. You’ve always been so private. There were a lot of things said tonight that Jungkook is going to have to reckon with. 

Once you’re curled up beneath your sheets, eyes drooping, Jungkooks turns off the light on your nightstand and nearly, just about nearly, presses his lips to your forehead. He manages to avoid doing that, too. 

Instead, he pulls up your duvet and heads towards the main room, making a beeline for your front door. But before he can leave the room, he hears you mumble out his name. 

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy. 

“Yeah?” He looks back at you from where he stands in your door frame, one hand on the knob, ready to pull it closed. 

You smile, eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” you say. 

Jungkook grins. 

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Ruby, which undoubtedly means that something positively terrible happened last night. Unfortunately, you have no idea what happened at all last night, good or terrible, so whatever Ruby has to say will be news to you. 

Rubbing your eyes as you wrack your brain in the hopes of figuring out how you even ended up back at your apartment (when you swear you told Ruby you would stay at hers), you press on Ruby’s contact and call her. 

“Y/N? Hello? Are you there?” Ruby answers on the first ring. 

“I’m here,” you mumble out, words jumped and barely intelligible. You wince as your eyes adjust to the harsh blue light of your phone screen, squinting as you look at the time. 

Shit, it’s 11:43AM and you’re meeting Jungkook for coffee at noon. 

“Good, I called you three times last night after you texted,” Ruby wastes no time diving into her interrogation. 

“Why?” You ask, scrambling out of bed with your phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your head throbs so you quickly take some Ibuprofen, splash your face with water, and start looking for something clean you can put on. 

“Because texting me ‘home’ is not enough!” Ruby exclaims. “Jungkook walked you home last night, I wanted to make sure you were tucked in bed and feeling alright.”

You frown. You don’t remember that. Granted, you don’t remember a lot of things, but you can’t recall Jungkook walking you back. You saw him last night? You didn’t even know. Scratching your head, a part of you vaguely pictures him standing in your apartment in the dark, resting against the door frame to your bedroom in the warm yellow light of the lamp on your nightstand. Can just barely see him tucking you into bed, placing the sheets over your figure and making you text Ruby that you’re home. You thought you were just imagining it at the time, but it must have happened anyway. 

“Jungkook walked me home?”

“Yeah, you insisted,” Ruby says. “You probably don’t remember, though.”

“No,” you say dumbly. 

“Well, I appreciate you texting me that you were home but I would have preferred something more explanatory,” scolds Ruby. “I thought maybe Jungkook was gonna do something.”

“Oh my goodness, no,” you immediately interject, pulling on your shoes and stuffing your laptop into your backpack. Just the thought of Jungkook doing something like that sends your stomach for a whirl. “He would never do that. I trust him.”

“I mean, I see that now,” Ruby points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Everything’s good.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ruby says, still sounding a bit like an overprotective mother. You love her, though. You know she just wants the best for you. “Take it easy today, okay? You had a lot to drink last night.”

“I will,” you assure her. “I’m just on my way to meet up with Jungkook now. Getting coffee.”

“Make sure to eat, too,” Ruby reminds you. “And tell Jungkook that I said thanks for walking you home.”

“Anything else, Mom?”

You can practically see Ruby frowning on the other end. “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you, okay?”

She bids you goodbye just as you’re dashing out the door, your usual stride quickening so you make it to the cafe in time, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting. You make it there in a record five minutes, pulling open the door frantically just as the clock strikes noon. 

Jungkook’s already there, of course, sitting by a little round table in the corner of the room with two americanos on the table. He waves when he sees you standing by the entrance, and the mere sight of him makes you smile, shoulders relaxing. 

“Hey,” you greet, a little out of breath as you settle into the chair across from him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook says back. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is killing me, but other than that I’m alright,” you admit, taking a sip of the drink. It’s piping hot but just the right amount of scalding, warming your insides after a night of filling them with pure poison. 

“Good.” He grins. “It’s nice to see your face.”

“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” you say while still on the topic, “did you walk me home last night? I can’t remember.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I bumped into you and your friends while I was on my way back from a bar.”

You wince. The fact that you don’t even remember that happening tells you enough. “I was super drunk, wasn’t I?”

Jungkook, nice as always, says, “I’ve seen worse.” It only makes you feel the slightest bit better. 

“Hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you say, knowing you have a tendency to lose your filter almost entirely when you get wasted, letting any sort of mental reasoning fly out the door the moment you down another shot. And the thought of having told Jungkook something deeply humiliating or personal, or even him witnessing something stupid, makes you feel weirdly exposed. 

Jungkook freezes for a split second, almost like he’s buffering, like he’s about to say something but it’s just taking him an extra step to get the words out of his mouth. Then he takes a quick sip of his americano and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. You were just very drunk. And clingy.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you apologize. You can’t imagine the hell you must have put Jungkook through last night. 

Jungkook laughs. “It’s okay. I’m glad we got you home safe.”

“Me, too.” You nod. You send a grateful smile his way. “Thanks for walking me, by the way. I really appreciate it. Ruby says thanks, too.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says. It doesn’t sound like something that people say just to say it. The way that people say ‘anytime’ just so they can be friendly and amicable. He says it and he means it, says it genuinely and honestly, like it’s a real promise that he’s making. That he would be happy to walk you home again. No matter the hour. No matter how drunk you are. No matter what he’s doing. 

And that means a lot to you. 

“We should probably wrap up filming soon, huh?” You say, getting onto the topic at hand. Of course, the project is the whole reason you’re even talking to each other in the first place. “It’s due in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of another outing? And maybe one more thing with Taehyung?” Jungkook suggests. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “‘Another outing’, Jungkook? What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins. 

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers. 

When you open your front door they’re the first thing you see, an enormous bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers in a variety of colors—pinks and purples and oranges and yellows—gripped neatly in Jungkook’s hand. They stick out against his otherwise rather formal attire, a simple black dress shirt and jeans, nice shoes that compliment his figure. Black truly is the world’s most slimming color, and Jungkook is no exception. He looks good. 

“For you, m’lady,” Jungkook says dramatically as he holds out the bouquet in front of him.

“How thoughtful of you,” you muse to yourself, grinning. You take the flowers and press your whole face into them, breathing in the fresh scent. “The one I gave you wasn’t nearly this big.”

“Go big or go home,” Jungkook teases. “You look nice, by the way.”

“You always sound so surprised when you say that,” you comment snidely, shaking your head as you grab your bag from the shelf next to your door. “What are we doing tonight, Jeon? Gonna keep it a secret from me like last time?”

“That depends,” Jungkook says knowingly. “Do you like secrets?”

“You should know what I like by now,” you remark. 

“Then prepare to be wowed.” He grins, taking your hand in his as he pulls you out the door. 

The restaurant you go to this time does not require a ten minute drive to the center of town. Instead, it’s a five minute walk from campus and actually happens to be a place you’ve been to before. It’s a busy little thing on a Friday night, waiters bustling about with trays in their hands, people laughing and smiling under the dim light of the chandeliers. You’ve only been here once, long ago, for a club dinner paid for by the finance chair, and for good reason. It’s not the kind of place cheap college students looking to get the most food for the least amount of money go to. 

“Isn’t this a bit out of budget for our rom-com?” You ask as the host seats you at your table, a little booth in the middle of the restaurant, lanterns resting on the corners of the seats. 

“I thought this was a mockumentary,” Jungkook jokes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, resisting the smile that fights its way across your face. Trust you to make that sort of blunder in front of him. “I mean it, though. This place is expensive.”

“It’s manageable,” Jungkook promises. “I’ve been saving up. Plus, I thought you deserved a nice night out.”

“How generous of you.”

“Oh, come on, I know you’re excited,” he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t have to act like a stone-cold robot anymore.”

“Well…” you suppose enough is enough. Jungkook can see right through you anyway, so there’s no point in keeping up this indifferent facade of yours. “Only because you’re treating me so nicely.”

“Just please don’t order the steak,” he requests simply. 

You laugh. “No problem. Maybe we could just share a couple of appetizers?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that. 

Luckily, this is not one of those restaurants where the appetizers cost an arm and a leg and are the size of your pinky finger. You and Jungkook split three different ones, happy to scoop out portions for each of you and indulge in them together. 

Dinner dates—of which this is only sort of one—are always awkward because you spend half of the time shoving food into your mouth, but you and Jungkook don’t seem to mind the silence at all. Only, Jungkook does look sort of like he’s holding back.

“Is this enough food for you?” You ask him halfway through, distantly remembering how he absolutely devoured a whole plate of pasta last time and still having enough room in his stomach to finish yours. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of vegetables. 

“You ate so much at the Italian place, I just want to make sure you aren’t still hungry,” you point out. 

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, swallowing down the bite in his mouth. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else. But what the hell, right? It’s Jungkook. It’s Jungkook and he walked you home when you were drunk, he gave you flowers, he let you borrow his jacket. And you feel as though you must return the favor. “Anytime.”

He smiles. 

Despite the pure ecstasy you both experience when eating delicious food, Jungkook makes sure not to waste this time and grabs a few frames of you eating with his camera. He always seems to have that with him whenever he’s with you, hanging around his neck or stuffed into his backpack or crammed into his pants pocket. Sort of makes you wonder just how much footage the two of you have of each other. 

He insists on paying but you send him some money anyway, just because letting him shoulder the burden of a place as expensive (for college students, at least) as this just doesn’t sit right with you. Whenever he receives the Venmo notification on his phone, Jungkook frowns and says that he’ll send that money back to you, but he never does and you can tell that he really does appreciate it. 

You don’t think you have any plans on stopping that for a while. 

The only downside of going to this restaurant is that there is no gorgeous, light-strung park in the vicinity the two of you can wander around. Just your campus, which you have no doubt walked a thousand times over, and the streets surrounding it, which you have memorized like the back of your hand. 

It almost makes you think that Jungkook is just going to drop you back off at your place and the night will end there, but you know better than to expect something like that from Jungkook. Instead, as you’re walking, you point out the cafe that you and Ruby always go to, see that it’s closing in half-an-hour, and Jungkook decides then and there that it’s your next destination. 

“You’ve never been here before?” You ask when you walk inside, eyes immediately drifting to the display of pastries beside the register. 

“I’m not normally on this side of campus,” Jungkook admits. “You’re the only reason I’m ever here.”

“Then hopefully after finding this place, you’ll have two reasons,” you say cheerfully. The baristas behind the counter know you on a first-name basis, are happy to help you out even though they’ve no doubt been working long hours and are ready to close up shop and go home. 

You split a tiramisu and sit at that same corner table you and Ruby always pick, empty now that it’s so late at night. Other than the employees, you and Jungkook are the only ones in here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, filled to the brim with people, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air. 

 The tiramisu isn't as fresh as it would be bright and early in the morning, but you suppose that that just means you and Jungkook will have to come back. Besides, Jungkook obviously does not seem to mind, scarfing it down ruthlessly. You’re in and out just as they close up shop, the employees bidding you goodbye like old friends, sending you on your way. There’s not really much else either of you have planned for tonight, and Jungkook isn’t coming up with any new ideas as he checks his phone. Instead, you just begin to head back to your apartment, all wrapped up in each other. You place your hand in his own and feel yourself relax when he squeezes, a silent little reminder that he’s still here, and that so are you.

Funnily enough, holding hands feels natural to you at this point. 

“Tonight was fun,” you comment, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, glad we could do this,” Jungkook agrees. “Makes me kind of sad to know that this thing is almost over.”

“What, the project?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. And the class. And the semester. It’s kind of scary. We’ll be seniors next year.”

You chuckle. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have no idea what I’m going to do after we graduate.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” Jungkook reassures you. “As long as you’re happy with what you have now.”

“Are you?” You inquire, looking up to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

The walk from the cafe to your apartment is short, just under five minutes, but it feels like it takes you an hour, footsteps slow and languid, like neither of you want the night to end. You hit every red light, round every corner, drawing out the evening for as long as you can. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do on a five-minute walk, and before you know it, you’re home.

“This is me,” you say, stopping outside the gold doors of your apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says, a common thread in your conversations. 

“Really?” You ask, skeptical. “Our project’s almost over.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to stop doing this,” Jungkook says. 

You narrow your eyes. “What are you implying, huh, Jungkook?”

“This.”

Before you know it, he’s wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you in close to him, your palms splayed out against his broad, toned chest, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp a little into the feeling, somewhat shocked he would dare be so bold even after all this time, but find yourself sinking into the touch. He tastes like coffee and cream, like peppermint from his chapstick, like the wine you shared tonight. You cave into the way he holds you, hands wrapped around your body, palms pressed firmly against your figure. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real and here and that you are kissing him back, like he’ll forget once the moment ends. 

But he need not worry about that. 

When you part, you don’t even bother wiping off the stupid smile on your face, kiss-drunk and filled with glee. It’s been a long time since you felt this way. And Jungkook makes you feel things you don’t even think you can explain. 

“How bold of you,” you comment, noses touching, barely an inch away from each other. 

“I figured I’d shoot my shot,” Jungkook says. He shrugs, pretending to be casual, but you can see the way he’s grinning, beaming, down at you. 

“You scored,” you remind him.

“How observant of you,” teases Jungkook in return. You pout a little at his playful mockery, heart fond. “Think we can do it again?”

“Hmm, I would tone down the ego first,” you say, already leaning back in to press your lips against his. 

“Never.” He smiles wickedly. 

It’s a quicker kiss this time, a short peck against his cherry red mouth, but it still makes your heart beat something terribly fierce. 

“See you soon?” You ask when you finally pull away, knowing that as much as you’d like to, you can’t just stand out here kissing each other forever. 

Jungkook nods, cheeks pink and warm to the touch. He looks so sleek in his formal black outfit, crisp button-down and slacks, hair all styled, but the way he’s grinning at you makes him look so young, so sublimely happy. It’s nice. 

“Anytime.”

“There’s my favorite couple!” Taehyung greets excitedly when he swings open the door to his apartment to reveal you and Jungkook standing on the other side. 

“What’s it to you?” You comment snidely as he lets you inside, the black sheet still taped up along his wall. It looks a little more wrinkled than when you last saw it. 

“Oh, nothing,” Taehyung singsongs. He definitely knows a lot more than he cares to tell either you or Jungkook, but whatever. The project’s almost over and he’s almost finished with university entirely. “You guys are just cute together, that’s all.”

“Like you even know the half of it.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. 

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, do tell.” He grins that greasy, comic-book-villain grin of his as he starts moving his bar stools back to where the sheet lines his cream-colored wall. 

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” Jungkook poses, making you laugh from where you’re seated on the couch, watching Jungkook set up his tripod in exactly the place he wants it. You smile at him as you recline against Taehyung’s poor old leather couch, so worn-down from use that the back cushions fold in when you press against them, and Jungkook peers out from behind the camera to blow you a kiss. 

You send him one back without even needing to think. 

Taehyung misses the whole scene, but no doubt he’ll be putting two and two together pretty soon. You and Jungkook agreed that for the last interview you would be questioned together, long before Jungkook actually managed to romance you off your feet, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that the two of you being interviewed side-by-side will make things much more interesting. 

Nevertheless, Jungkook sets up the camera and sends a thumbs-up your way when he’s ready, Taehyung sitting on the bar stool just outside of the frame with a couple of index cards in his hand. 

“Let’s do this,” you say, hauling yourself onto the seat. Jungkook does the same shortly after, scooching onto the one next to you as you stare at Taehyung, waiting for him to start. 

“Looking forward to this one?” Taehyung asks knowingly. 

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod. 

“Alright. Well, this is presumably the last thing the two of you will be filming for your project. How are you feeling about it?”

“It turned out better than I thought it would,” you admit. It will come as a shock to no one that you did not have very high hopes for this project when it was first assigned. 

“Of course it did, I’m your partner,” Jungkook teases, poking you in your side. “Would you ever doubt me?”

“Always,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles. “Sounds like it’s been good so far. Did you enjoy filming it?”

You nod. “Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. Except for when Jungkook spilled coffee all over me, that was not cool.” You turn to face Jungkook directly, and all he does when you say his name is wink and point at you. 

“It was for the rom-com, I don’t know what you expected,” Jungkook said. “I gave you my jacket, too.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Taehyung chuckles, warm and low. “I’m sure Jungkook learned his lesson,” he muses. “What was your favorite thing to film?”

Not when I randomly texted you five minutes before I showed up at your door to make you ask me questions about how I feel, you think to yourself. Jungkook still doesn’t know, but you think you’ll put it into the movie just for the hell of it, so he’ll find out then. Find out that you were grappling with your feelings for him long before you ever let on.

“The serenade was a blast, a special shoutout to the Eighth Notes for doing that for me,” Jungkook says immediately. Obviously that is at the top of his list. “Plus, I just like seeing Y/N all flustered.”

“Shut up, you’re so annoying,” you chide. “I guess the serenade was kind of cute. I liked going out together, though. On our not-date.”

Jungkook objects to that instantly. “It was a date, Y/N!”

You look back at him, equally as scandalized as he. “Whose turn is it to talk?”

“Mine, actually,” Taehyung interjects. “Did you like going out together?”

You sigh a little, wondering if you’re really about to turn into a softie in front of a camera for a movie to be shown to your twenty classmates and professor. “Yeah,” you say, real and true because that’s what you agreed on, you and Jungkook. To be candid. To be honest. To say how you felt. Really. “It was really nice. I hadn’t gone out with someone like that in a long time.”

“And were you happy because of the project, or because of Jungkook?”

“Well,” you begin, not exactly sure where to start. “I guess, it’s like… you know, I didn’t even know Jungkook before this project. I mean, I knew who he was, he would always respond to my discussion board posts and object to everything I said in class. But I didn’t know him as a person. But as we worked on this project together, planning and filming and editing, I started to. And we did so many things together. And I guess I just really enjoyed the time we did spend as a pair.”

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says easily. “That’s what I wanted. To get to know Y/N, to spend time with her. I was glad we had this project. Otherwise, we might never have done something like this.”

“You both seem very happy.”

“I think we are. This project was actually sort of a blessing in disguise. I know him a lot better, now,” you say. “I’m glad that I do. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I always feel happy when he’s around. I don’t know. He did it, somehow.”

“Jungkook?”

“It wasn’t just me. Y/N and I did this together. We made this. This project. Us. It wasn’t just her, or just me. It’s ours.” Jungkook grins.

“Are you glad you did this project?”

Of course. It was fun, and I liked filming it, and I feel like I got something really important out of it. I know it’s just a short rom-com mockumentary, but it really feels like there was a happy ending, you know? A happily ever after.”

“You seem really certain about that.”

“Well,” Jungkook says with a little scoff, “what else would you call it?”

“As you can see, obviously Y/N fell head over heels in love with me thanks to this wonderful project—”

“Why are you always so full of yourself—?”

“Hey, you’re ruining the voiceover! As I said, as you can see, Y/N fell head over heels in love with me, but that wasn’t just because of my dashing good looks and amazing singing skills.”

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

“It was because we were honest with each other, and because we spent meaningful moments together, and because we kept our hearts open. And I guess that’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? Love, romance, relationships? If you close yourself off, you’ll never get to experience them. But if you take every opportunity with an open mind, then you never know what might happen. Like falling in love with your discussion board nemesis.”

“Who, me?”

“Just let me finish, come on. There’s like one paragraph left. I know this was a mockumentary, not a scripted rom-com with professional actors and screenwriters and a whole team of editors. But that was the whole point. To make it real. And to make it between two people who aren’t just characters on a screen. We’re real people, and this happened to us. And it makes us happy. And it can happen to you, too. I think we all learn something every time we watch a new movie. Whether it be about loss, or promises, or other people. This time, we learned about love. Real love. How it can be rocky and strange and come straight out of left field. But also how happy endings aren’t just for movies and fairytales. We all deserve them. And Y/N and I found our own.”

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

You look up at the screen, expecting to see the credits roll, but instead it’s a shot of the two of you kissing outside of your apartment building, a shot of you wrapping your arms around him as you press your lips to his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but you find yourself entranced in the moment, shocked that Jungkook somehow managed to capture it on film. He didn’t even have his camera with him that night. 

Pollack turns on the lights in your classroom as your fellow classmates applaud, all of them looking genuinely pleased that your rom-com had such a wonderful ending. Pollack herself looks rather proud, nodding to herself as she smiles at the two of you. 

“You filmed us kissing?” You hiss to Jungkook as your classmates clap, hoping the sound of it will drown out your conversation. 

“I got Taehyung to,” Jungkook whispers back. “Why?”

“I just… I thought that night was just for us.”

“The rest of it is. But I thought the kiss would be a cute way to end it. You know, happy ending and everything.”

Alright, if Jungkook insists. You nod, tensing up slightly. You hadn’t even noticed Taehyung down the street, standing behind some utility pole with the camera raised to his eye. Had Jungkook texted him in secret? Asked him to meet you outside of your apartment? Was he planning on kissing you from the very beginning?

You shake your head, willing away the thoughts as Pollack commends the two of you for a job well done. Jungkook and you stand at the front of the room for a few more seconds, getting stared down by your fellow classmates while Pollack speaks. The period ends just as she finishes up, the minutes changing the moment she closes her mouth. Within a minute or so, the whole class has emptied out, some of them congratulating you and Jungkook on the way out. 

“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Jungkook says, eyes bright and filled with that same wonder he’s always got. 

“Yeah,” you say distantly, nodding to him as he disappears out the door. 

“You did an excellent job, Y/N,” Pollack praises, and it goes right to your head, if you’re being honest. “It was brilliant.”

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly rather shy. “That means a lot.”

“Don’t tell anyone else this,” she says, voice quiet, “but I was secretly hoping the two of you would fall in love.”

“Pollack!”

She laughs. “What? I thought you’d make a cute couple. And you do, so clearly it all worked out anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the code of conduct,” you say, even though you know you can’t be too mad at her. After all, you wouldn’t have Jungkook if it weren’t for her. 

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

“Wait…” you pause, eyes narrowing, “how many of your students have you set up with each other?”

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open. 

She chuckles, shooing you out the door. “Go on, go be with your boyfriend. You can tell him you both get A pluses for your project. It was excellent. One of the best I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Thanks, Pollack,” you say, smiling gratefully. “You’re the best.”

She points at you proudly as you head out the door. “So are you.”

Jungkook is waiting by the tables where you always sit, half a flight down from your classroom. He’s leaning against the edge of them as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone, so engrossed in the Instagram explore page that he doesn’t see you walk up. 

“Guess what,” you say, getting all up in his face, just because you can. 

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised. 

“We got an A plus on our project!” You exclaim happily, cheering. Jungkook laughs at your exuberant reaction, watches as you jump around, clapping loudly. 

“Hell yeah, we did that!” Jungkook holds his hand up for a high five, one you gladly take. Your palms smack together and the sound reverberates around the hallway. 

“You know, you and I—” you begin, placing your palms on his cheeks as you pull yourself in for a kiss, “we make a pretty good team.”

“Only because you’re so good at editing,” Jungkook says. You’re both not too bad, if you do say so yourself, but since Jungkook did so much of the filming you thought it would be better if you carried more of the weight when it came to post-production. 

“Says you,” you tease, pressing your lips to his button nose. “The happy ending thing was a nice touch, I liked it. Makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“I’m glad,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, admiring the way you beam at him. “You know, I was really worried that you might think we didn’t have a happy ending after all, especially after everything.”

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously. 

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out. 

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand. 

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you. 

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix. 

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit. 

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night. 

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons. 

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers. 

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play. 

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself. 

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right. 

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him. 

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice. 

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you. 

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real. 

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place. 

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either. 

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over. 

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat. 

The truth is, you were always a goner for him. 

And look how well that played out. 

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight. 

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table. 

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop. 

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good. 

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy. 

Hope. 

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve. 

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much. 

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end. 

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it? 

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door. 

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him. 

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

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

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

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

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

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you. 

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you. 

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful. 

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought. 

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby. 

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now. 

A brand new frame. 

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now. 

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie. 

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back. 

“Yes,” you declare proudly. 

And so, they lived happily ever after. 

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

[twinkleimagines]

frenemies

summary: You catch feelings for your nemesis Rafe Cameron and notice his change of how he started interacting with you, so you begin and hoping he feels the same, so you decide to take the risk to confront him and see what his true intentions are.

5.5k words

LONG!

Part two, part 3 , part four (final)

Warning: Language, smut, physical and verbal fighting.

Rafe Cameron.

The most loved and also the most hated Kook in the OBX.

You and your pogue friends despised this guy, or at least you were suppose to.

But for some reason, between all the bickering you two had done over the summer, you've managed to fall for him.

I know- what the fuck.

It blew your mind too. He was never nice. Always making fun of the Pogues, practically humiliating you all every chance he got. You guys were nothing but broke thieves who took whatever you wanted no matter who it hurt. You guys were scum, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, a bunch of nobody's that will never make it anywhere in life.

Which is obviously not true, but to Rafe - that's what you ‘dirty Pogues’ were.

You didn’t care for the name calling though. You honestly could say the same thing about the Kooks. They cheat their way into life, never have to work for anything , always have mommy and daddy's money to get them through any obstacle. But you knew not all Kooks were like that. Take your best friend Kiara for example. She's a 'kook' by the book, but by the streets she’s a Full Pogue at heart.

but for some reason though, Rafe would spend most his time trying to find a way to harass the shit out of you specifically. He could have a million Pogues around him yet he always found his way through the crowd to have some conversation with you even if it was to drag your name through the mud.

You first realized the feelings you had for Rafe when you began craving his presence.

It was the annual bonfire that you and your friends had went to , a place where all teens and young adults mixed from all clicks. Tourists, Pogues, and even Kooks. Everyone was there.

You stood next to the fire with JJ and Pope, two of your closest friends as the night grew louder, more people filling in. You watched the crowds as the piled up on the sand, but your eyes roamed for Rafe himself. You were almost mad at yourself for actively searching for him. And it wasn’t even like you were looking for him so you could avoid him, but searching so you could see him and hopefully grab his attention.

You continuously questioned yourself as to Why you were looking for this jerk off to begin with. All he was going to do was put you down and try to humiliate you in front of all of your friends.

But for some reason, when your eyes landed on that tall brown headed boy, his hair for once not greased back, a wide grin on his face as he wore a black t-shirt and a red cup in his hand- your heart fluttered. You began to grin slightly, seeing him in the distance.

Despite how much of an ass hole he was, Rafe was unbelievably hot. He was toned, Tall, jaw line so sharp it could probably cut you and you could get lost in those blue eyes of his. It excited you so much when he would give you attention. Even the negative attention. At this point you just enjoyed looking at him and hearing your name flow out of his mouth.

"earth to Y/n" JJ spoke out stepping out in front of you blocking your view to Rafe, and ultimately bringing you out of your trance.

“huh” you responded dumbfounded .

“Pope thinks I’m stupid for eating food with mold on it” JJ said throwing his hands up, you grin as you watched the blonde boy try to seriously defend his theory. Pope’s eyes widened throwing his hands up as well, looking towards you for agreement.

“It’s a Fungi bro! nothing good comes from Eating mold!” Pope argued back. JJ shook his head, disagreeing with Pope’s statement .

“dude, mold is good for you ok it’s just a natural organism “ He stated, dropping his hands down to his sides.

“You’re fucking nasty” You laughed out before pushing onto JJ’s shoulder. You hadn’t realized it yet, but your laugh caught a certain boy’s attention. the moment Rafe heard that familiar tune, his head turned to your direction, his eyes focused on you as you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well well well if it isn’t Ms. Sarah Cameron “ JJ spoke as he walked up towards one of your best friend, John B, and Rafe’s younger sister, Sarah. They both looked in your direction taking a few steps away from each other as if it wasn’t obvious that they were talking.

You didn’t hate Sarah per-say, but one time she did make out with your ex boyfriend while at a party. She claimed he told her he was single and she was just looking for a good night but Sarah was known for always wanting attention so you were doubtful on the fact that she was ‘unaware’ that he was your boyfriend.

You were the only one who knew John B’s crush on Sarah. He had started working for her father after his father went missing, and you were the only one who had caught on to his different approach when Sarah was ever mentioned, or how his cheeks would go slightly red when she would walk by. You didn’t blame him, the Cameron siblings were fucking hot.

“Hi JJ’ Sarah said with a grin. You stood to the side of Pope, looking around for Kiara, only to find her sat with a group of more Pogues talking their heads off.

JJ began trying to include Sarah into his previous ‘mold is good for you’ argument while your focus drifted off, your eyes roaming the crowd once again.

You managed to look back over to where you had first saw Rafe standing, only this time he was no where to be found.

“sarah baby c’mon” you heard someone say. You looked over, Your eyes widening to see Rafe and Topper standing in front of you next to Sarah. You knew this wasn’t a group that needed to be mixed, but seeing Rafe excited you. Your eyes landed on his, your heart beginning to flutter. You hated the fact that you two were enemies. It sucked looking at someone the way you did, knowing they were only looking back at you with hatred and pure disgust. At least you thought.

“Oh c’mon Topper can’t the girl just have a little fun?” JJ laughed out, his alcohol clearly running through his veins.

“You Pogues don’t know the meaning of fun JJ” Topper laughed out. You rolled your eyes shaking your head.

“Go the fuck on Topper “ you spat out, your eyes lifting some towards Rafe before going back to Topper. You could feel yourself kicking up a sweat, maybe from the alcohol , or maybe from the fact that Rafe’s eyes were already on yours when you looked at him. He even had a smirk plastered on his face, probably from the fact he gets off on the fighting.

“Oooohhh someone’s ballsy tonight huh?” Topper laughed bringing the attention to you.

“No im just sick and tired of you stuck up kooks always trying to ruin a good time” You scoffed out, crossing your arms over chest.

“Y/n you wouldn’t know the meaning of a good time if it slapped you in the face alright?” Rafe said. He furrowed his brows together when he realized a smirk rising on your face once you looked over at him. He didn’t know what to think considering the other times you were giving him an ‘ eat shit ‘ look, but this time it was almost as if you were happy he was commenting towards you.

“Oh right, having random hook ups and snorting a line of coke every night is a good time huh Rafe?” You scoffed out sarcastly. “ yeah I think I’ll pass” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“ Listen JJ you and your little bitch need to just go back to the cut where you came from-“ you glanced at Rafe, only to see him looking at Topper with anger as if he was upset at him for calling you that , but before you could further analyze his expression, JJ pushed against Topper’s chest, slinging Topper backwards.

“you watch your mouth” JJ spat out pointing his finger towards Topper’s face. John B quickly stepped in , pulling JJ back away from Topper who was now laughing like an idiot, excited for the action that he thought was about to happen.

“Yeah go ahead Johnny boy go ahead and play dad “ Topper spat out as John B continued practically dragging JJ away from the group. “just don’t go abandoning him like your dad did ” He yelled out. Your mouth flew open in shock, seeing John B stop in his tracks but before he could even respond, your hand slapped straight across Topper’s cheek, causing his head to bounce side ways.

“go suck on your moms tits some more you fucking prick” You scowled before turning on your heals, following your friends. You didn’t even bother to stick around for anymore commentary, your only goal at this point was getting your friends the hell away from here before all hell broke loose.

“never fails man” you heard JJ screamed out in anger as you made it to the parking lot all while Pope continued trying to hush them as they stood next to the twinkie.

“JJ chill!” Pope yelled out as he tried pushing JJ into the Volkswagen but to no avail.

“no man they always get to do and say whatever the hell they want and never get any repercussions for it !” he exclaimed.

He wasn’t wrong, they really did. And if the Pogues fought back they were deemed bad and out of control. You sighed heavily as you watched JJ try to calm himself down, only to realize you had left your phone on the Log you were originally sitting at by the fire.

“Fuck I’ll be right back” You stated, only for your arm to get grabbed by John B.

“No don’t go back there” He instructed but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine I just left my phone. “ You exclaimed before making your way back down towards the crowd of people.

“Xcuse’ me “ you mumbled as you brushed past people, making your way to the fire.

“Y/n what happened?” Kiara asked popping up from the side, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later , meet you at the twinkie ok? go calm JJ down” You responded, pointing behind you with your thumb towards the van. She rolled her eyes, realizing it was a fight that had happened before turning around, making her way to your friends.

“Just can’t stay away can you?” You heard from behind you. You turn around to see none other than Rafe himself standing proudly. You rolled your eyes before turning back around, walking towards the fire once again. Despite you usually being excited to see him, tonight really put things into perspective for you.

You really were just a ‘dirty pogue’ to these guys, nothing more. There was no point to continue entertaining the thought of anything ever happening between the two of you. You were enemies, and that was all you’d ever be.

“I just came to get something Rafe go away” You huffed out.

“Oh you mean this?” He yelled out , making you stop in your track. You turned around to see Rafe holding your phone up, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Give me that” you demanded, reaching your hand out, but Rafe pulled back, pulling it out of your reach.

“Rafe!” You yelled out with anger. “Give me my fucking phone dude” You spat out , reaching out again.

“Well what’s in it for me?” he asked , that smirk still obvious on his face.

“Rafe , please” You sighed out, dropping your shoulders slowly giving up. Between the alcohol and it being so late, you didn’t have any energy in you at this point to argue and you were just ready to go home and crash. Rafe noticed the body change in you, his grin falling from his face.

“I’m sorry” he said softly as he held out your phone to you. You were shocked. Rafe apologizing? Nobody but his father had ever heard those words coming from him so for him to say this to you really took you by surprise.

You slowly took the phone from him, your brows furrowed together in confusion.

“uhm,” you said as you pulled your arm back towards yourself. “thanks” you mumbled before turning on your heels making your way back to your friends.

“Y/n stop arguing and just do it!” Your mom yelled at you as she pushed the cleaing cart your way. You had to work with your mom today at the country club unfortunately and you were not even the slightest bit happy about it. She needed help and ‘You teenagers don’t do anything for yourselves’ as she would say, so you were stuck cleaning the floors while she did whatever it is that she does.

“Okay!” you huffed out as you picked up the broom off of the cart, aggressively beginning to sweep against the floor. You rolled your eyes as she mumbled something else to you before walking away, leaving you to clean the room alone.

It wasn’t long after that you heard some familiar voices walking down the hall way towards the room you were in. It most definitely sounded like the horrible three, Topper, Kelce and Rafe. You quickly turned your back towards the door, hoping none of them would notice you since you were alone and you against 3 just didn’t sound like a good time. You continued sweeping as you heard the group laughing as they passed the room you were in, not even paying you no mind. You sighed with relief as you realized they hadn’t noticed you and continued back to sweeping the floors.

“Hey” you heard from behind you. You jumped up gasping loudly as you turned around quickly, only to see Rafe himself standing there .

“God – fuck Rafe you scared the shit out of me. “ You breathed out, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your heart beat down.

“sorry” he responded. There was that word again that didn’t exist in Rafe’s dictionary. You caught yourself staring before you quickly snapped yourself out of your trance, placing your hand on your hip.

“What do you want Rafe?” You scoffed out. He smirked before walking over to one of the Desks that sat in the room. You watched as he sat down on the edge, grinning as he stared over at you.

“ Never seen you here before.” He stated. You rolled your eyes before you propped your elbow up on your broom, sighing heavily.

“my mom works here. I’m just helping” You exclaimed, not that it was any of his business anyway.

“Huh” He responded nodding his head. He kept quiet once again, leaving the room silent and you beyond confused. You eventually shook your head at him, indicating for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Look Rafe “ you started, standing yourself up straight. “I have to get back to work so unless you’re here for something important, you can go the fuck on” you finished. Rafe hopped off the edge of the desk, taking a few steps towards you , his body now hovering over yours. You began to feel your heart pound again, this time from the nerves as he stood so close to you. The smell of his cologne, grass and sweat from his Golfing lingering in your nose. you felt your hands begin getting clammy as you tried to hold your composer, your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

Rafe slowly lifted his hands, placing it under your chin, his blue eyes focused on yours. You didn’t know what to do at this point. You’ve had one on one Arguments with rafe before but none where he stood this close, and this quiet with you.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he lifted your chin, your face close together. He grinned once again, leaning in closer to you.

“You’re so beautiful” He said softly. You stared back into his blue eyes for a second before leaning in slightly. You were taken back though as he let go of your face , taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets.

“ see ya” He responded calmy before walking back out of the room, following back to his friends.

You stood in shock, confused by Rafes actions. You were for sure positive that he was going to kiss you but he didn’t.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled before shaking your head in confusion at Rafe’s actions. You sighed heavily before sweeping your broom across the floor again, trying to regain your compose.

Most of your day went on like normal. You finished work with your mom, your mind only focused on your brief conversation you had with Rafe earlier.

It sucked because you had feelings towards Rafe, and you couldn’t tell if you were overthinking his actions or if he actually was in to you as well.

You had come to a conclusion though- it was one of two options. He was either fucking with you, or he wanted to fuck you. And you were determined to find out by tonight.

“Here goes nothing” You sighed to yourself as you stood outside TannyHill, the outside lights lighting up the big white house. You quickly jumped over the concrete fence, your feet landing in the wet grass.

Your eyes roamed the balcony, trying to remember which area you had seen Rafe standing at before. You bit your bottom lip as you concentrated, only to see Rafe himself walk by one of the windows.

“gotcha” You spoke softly before crouching down some, doing a quick jog across the field in hopes no one would see you.

You quickly managed to climb your way up the house onto the balcony you had just recently seen Rafe at. This was one of the pro’s of being a Pogue. You guys were very athletic and could always find your way to anything no matter the obstacles. You stood catching your breath as your feet finally landed on the wooden floor, the area barely lit by the light from the windows.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You said to yourself as you stood in the dark outside of what looked to be Rafe’s bedroom. You ran your hands through your hair, turning back around to face the field.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you said to yourself again as you began pacing. This is Rafe we’re talking about. Of course this man is just fucking with you. He’s been nothing but a dick to you and your friends for years. why in God’s name would he want you now? You knew you weren’t’ ugly. You were in shape, had decent hair (Even though you probably smelt like sweat sometimes because of how much you spent outside with the gang) But for the most part you cleaned up well.

Plenty of guys wanted you- but you looked nothing like any of the rich girls Rafe hooked up with. Why would he ever want you? It was clear that he was only acting this way towards you so him and his friends could have a good laugh later.

You shook your head in disbelief that you even had the balls to climb this guys house and actually think you could even ask him if he was interested in you. You began to climb back over before you heard a door open. You froze instantly, hoping they wouldn’t see you in the dark but that was just wishful thinking.

“Y/n?” You heard someone say. You mumbled a ‘ fuck’ as you recognized the voice to be Rafe.

“Uhm” You replied awkwardly as you climbed down, turning towards him to face him.

“Care to explain?” He asked throwing his hand up in your direction.

“Uhh” You said awkwardly as you ran your hand through your hair before placing them down your side.

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing climbing up my house at fucking 11 at night” he spat out. You flinched slightly at the harsh tone of his voice, your eyes roaming everywhere but his face , afraid to look at him in humiliation.

“okay so” you started, looking down at your feet. You stood for a second, wondering how you were going to explain yourself without sounding like ta total creep.

“Alight fuck it. “ you breathed out, looking up at Rafe. “You’ve been acting weird towards me, and being all like nice and flirty one minute and a complete ass the next and like – I just need clarification “ You exclaimed before you took in a deep breath, staring at Rafe as you waited for a response. You bit your bottom lip as he continued staring at you with a blank expression.

“Well?” You repeated, but he stayed quiet. You rolled your eyes, annoyed with the mind games he continued to play. “Rafe what is it? You like me or are you like fucking with me?” You spat out in frustration.

He finally changed his expression, this time a cocky smirk forming on his face. He reached out, grabbing one of your hands before walking backwards, leading you to follow him into his bedroom.

“uhh Rafe?” You questioned, confusion written all over your face as his eyes continued staring into yours.

“I’m not explaining myself” He finally spoke, his hair draped over his eyes as he looked down at you. You scrunched your face up as he reached behind you, closing the patio door. He chuckled slightly at your confusion before taking a step back away from you. “I’m just gonna show you” He exclaimed before pulling against your arm, leading you towards the bed before pushing against your shoulder, making you flop down. Your eyes widened as he walked over towards you, a smirk never leaving his face as his hand reached up, pushing away the stray hair in your face.

“You know, I’ve wanted to fuck you for quite sometime” He stated, leaning forward. “I mean look at you,-“ his eyes looked down and then back up your body, landing back onto your eyes, “You’re hot as fuck” He responded. You didn’t have a clue on what to say, so you continued in the same spot , sitting on his bed propped up on your hands behind you.

“You know for a pogue,” He finished, chucking as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Why didn’t you say anything ?” You finally spoke, looking up at him through your lashes. His cocky smirk left his face, only to return shortly after.

“Had to make sure the feelings mutual.” He replied , standing back up straight.

“and Who said it was?” You asked , trying to build your confidence back up. Rafe’s smirk widened before he let out a chuckle, his finger pointed out towards the balcony you were just climbing a few minutes ago.

“You did” he replied . you lowered your head some without responding, knowing he wasn’t wrong. HE stared down at you for a few seconds before he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he stayed teasingly close.

“Hm” he hummed, not moving his face.

“Just fucking kiss me already” You demanded. Rafe happily obliged, his lips colliding with yours. Your hands immediately made their way to the back of his head, tugging on his hair.

“You wanna lay down for me ?” He asked after a few minutes of your tongues fighting for dominance. You didn’t respond other than nodding before you slowly laid yourself down, your eyes not leaving Rafe’s. Rafe grinned before unbuttoning your shorts, tugging on them. You lifted your hips up from the bed, helping him slide your shorts down as your teeth clamped down around your bottom lip. He stared at your hot pink panties, seeing the darkened area as you were already soaked.

“Soaking wet and I haven’t even touched you” He indicated. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as attempted to lower your head in embarrassment even though he could see you. Your mouth flew open as Rafe leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp panties, applying friction against your clit. You moaned out, leaning your head back as he placed the palm of his hand against you, rubbing up and down at a slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, his voice low and deep. You bit your bottom lip before nodding your head. Rafe grinned before he tugged on your panties, pulling them down to your ankles.

“Spread your legs open baby” He demanded , his voice calming but deep and intimidating.

You grinned before slowly spreading them open, his eyes focused on your heated core the whole time.

You laid your back flat against his bed as he got down on his knees, pulling you by your hips down to the edge of the bed, your bottom hanging off directly across his face .

“Rafe” You moaned out as you felt his warm tongue glide along your slit, his tongue stopping against your clit before he enclosed his lips, sucking slightly. He wiggled his tongue back and forth as his inserted his two index fingers into you, curving upwards. You gripped your hands against his navy blue sheets, gasping loudly as his fingers hit against your g-spot, sending tingling feelings through your body.

Rafe took one of his hands and trailed it up your stomach under your crop top, his hand groping around breasts.

You continued moaning loudly as his finger tips swirled around your nipples while his other hand continued moving rapidly against you, his eyes looking up at you in admiration.

Rafe lifted himself up, his face close to yours as his fingers continued moving inside you.

Y/n” he called out softly causing you to open your eyed and look over at him.

He placed his lips against yours as he slowly grinded himself against your side, pushing his rock hard shaft against you.

“You wanna do this?” He breathed out as he looked down at you, the pace of his fingers slowing down. You nodded looking up at him, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“Yes Rafe” you practically whined out. Rafe moved himself to where he was hovering over you, his lips placed against your neck as he pulled his joggers down some, his member popping against his abs. You breathed out deeply as you watched him line himself up before slowly sliding himself in.

“ fuck” He groaned out as he felt your walls wrap tightly against him. Rafe was not only long, but he was thick all the way around, filling you more than anyone had ever done before. You placed your arms around his neck, holding him close as he began moving his hips against you.

The room was silent, only the sounds of your deep breathing and small groaning from Rafe as he continued rocking his hips in you at a steady pace, one hand placed above your head as the other gripped tightly under your thigh to hold your leg up.

“Rafe go harder” You pleaded. Rafe instead stopped his movements completely before rolling you over onto your stomach. He pulled slightly against your hips causing your bottom to stick up in the air as your face was pressed into the bed.

You gasped loudly as Rafe inserted himself into you again from behind, the new position giving him access to going deeper in you, which was exactly what he did. You felt his hand land on the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the bed as he began grinding his hips deep into you. He began slow at first but then began giving you exactly what you wanted , slamming himself into you over and over again.

At this point the pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t hold the moaning in as he continued rocking his hips into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing the room.

“Fuck im gonna cum” Rafe groaned out deeply in your ear, the feeling of your tight warm walls around him bringing him close to his own climax. He began placing sloppy kisses on your back, his pace speeding up. You arched your back feeling yourself clench around him as you orgasmed, your clit pulsing. You whined out, tugging on his sheets as Rafe continued to pound into you, riding out your high.

“Fuck y/n “ Rafe groaned out as he quickly pulled out, pumping himself off shooting his load on your back.

You both stayed in the same position for a few more minutes as you tried catching your breath before Rafe grabbed a napkin from his nightstand, wiping your back off.

You rolled over, laying on your back as Rafe put his bottoms back On before looking back over at you out of breath. You grinned as your eyes roamed his glistening body, his abs very prominent and his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat.

“ You should’ve definitely came to me sooner” you finally spoke out with a giggle. He sat down on the edge if the bed chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, that was nice. “ He responded. The room became silent, you both just sitting awkwardly while you laid on his bed still naked. After a moment of silence, you finally sat up, pulling his top sheet with you while getting up off the bed.

“Soo” You said awkwardly as you wrapped the sheet over your sweaty body.

“you can use the front door ” He responded looking up at you. You almost wanted to slap him at this point, realizing he was indicating for you to leave. You scoffed while rolling your eyes before turning away, picking your clothing up off the floor.

“What?” He asked as he continued sitting on the edge of the bed, noticing you aggressively picking your clothes up in anger.

“Nothing Rafe” you mumbled as you pulled your shorts back up up your legs, turning your back towards him.

“Hey” He responded standing up, grabbing your hand after you pulled your top over your head.

“What” You replied back, looking up at him with anger.

“I wasn’t saying you had to leave now I was just saying you didn’t have to climb down the house again” He exclaimed. You stood for a second before shaking your head.

“I should go anyways, it’s late” You replied before walking over towards your shoes, sliding them on over you feet. “but don’t worry I’ll take the balcony so no one sees me”. Rafe wanted to reply to your comment but instead he stayed quiet as he watched you make your way back to his balcony before stopping, leaving your hand on the doorknob.

“Uhm” You spoke , causing him to look up at you. “I’ll see you later?” You stated, more like questioned just for your own clarification. He grinned before nodding his head, walking towards you. He walked you out to the balcony, helping you over the edge before watching you climb down to the ground to make sure you made it down safely.

You did a light jog back towards the concrete wall before turning around, looking up at the balcony. You grinned when you saw him still standing there watching you. You gave him a wave before turning on your feet, climbing back over the fence and going home.

***

Sorry I’ve been incognito for a while but ya girl is back 🥲

Also,

✨As always feedback, like, and a reblog is always appreciated ! ✨

Masterlist

[the0ldmann]

I heard you might be interested in the ol’ Sunny Time Town AU. Can I interest you in an STT AU drabble? Also I wrote this like, a month ago, and am only just now getting around to sharing it. It’s short, and it’s not very great. But I literally don’t know what else to do with it and I felt like sharing it. So uh. Enjoy!

They always say your partner should be your best friend…

"Jack, I-I…" My words caught in my throat as we laid on the hill, watching the fireworks with our fingers entwined. He'd done so much for me, made me feel so happy. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, but the words weren't coming out.

"Hmm? What is it?" He turned his head to look at me. Soft, dark eyes stared into mine, a spark of curiosity dancing behind them. It was so easy to melt under his gaze, but I struggled to remain focused. Though I still could not seem to get the words out, he remained patient.

His other hand came up to caress my cheek and I closed my eyes, sighing at his touch.

“I have a question, b-but I’m a little scared to ask.”

I opened an eye to see the gentlest expression from him.

“You can ask me anything! I promise I won’t get upset.”

“It’s not that I’m scared of you getting upset, it’s…”

I take a deep breath and try to center myself. Sunny Day Jack was the most reliable guy in town. He had his life together and he always remembered to check up on his friends. Thing was, he didn’t have a best friend. If what his sister said was true, Jack believed that only one person could truly be your best friend. Since you could only have one best friend, it was thought he was saving that title for someone he intended to spend his life with. A few had asked back in his middle and high school days if they could be best friends, but he declined them every time. Eventually they all gave up and nobody else had ever bothered asking him again.

Until now.

“Sunshine, whatever it is you want to ask, you know you can trust me.”

He called me Sunshine.

Now that I really think about it, he’d been calling me Sunshine for the past two weeks.

Cutesy pet names were never a thing I could recall hearing him call another person before. The closest he'd ever come to calling anyone something affectionate was bro or friend.

Did this mean…

With a hope previously unknown filling my chest, I forced my way through the butterflies in my stomach to finally get out what I’d been trying to ask.

“Can we be best friends?”

Time seemed to stand still as I awaited his response. His eyebrows rose in surprise and the thumb on my cheek stopped moving. Nothing was said and for a moment, that hope that I was trying to soar high on starting to falter. Plummeting faster than a man with a broken parachute, my anxiety was rapidly thinking about how I could pass it off as a joke, some prank that my friends put me up to. My thoughts were moving a million miles a minute in a panic fueled by embarrassment.

That was until he closed his eyes and brought his lips crashing down on mine. Instinctively I closed my eyes and kissed him back, relief washing over me. He didn’t need to say anything- I could feel it in the desperation of his kiss. It was like he’d been waiting all this time for me to show interest, bottling up his feelings until they would have no choice but to burst out. When we finally pulled apart, there was zero hesitation as he spoke.

“Oh, Sunspot, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you ask that question. I’ve been hoping for a while that you would ask. Of course we can be best friends! We can even be best friends forever. I love you so much, my Sunshine.”

I snuck another quick kiss before resting my forehead against his.

“I love you too, Starlight.”

The warmth from him blushing felt pleasant against my skin as he pulled me in for a hug and buried his face in my neck. Giggling, I hugged back before trying to shift ever so slightly so he’d be laying on me.

“You know, cuddling is nice, but so is cuddling and watching fireworks.”

Making himself comfortable while remaining wrapped around me, the end of the fireworks show certainly ended up being one to remember. Though admittedly, neither of us had our full attention on the fireworks, as Jack kept sneaking in little kisses here and there.

[the-bau-quinjet]

One Misunderstanding

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You struggle to fix Bucky's first impression of you. Bucky struggles with his own feelings.

Warnings: angst, Hydra things- like brainwashing and torture, a few curse words, panic attacks, anxiety

Word count: 5609

a/n: this idea came to me very suddenly, but I'm in love with it. Hopefully whatever I just wrote does it justice.

Masterlist

"Everyone, meet Y/N. She's the newest member of our little group, bringing in a whole new level of hacking and tech skills. Y/N, meet the team." Tony introduced you to everyone, eager to share your skills.

You turned to the group, getting ready to introduce yourself further, but instead tripped. You shrieked as you fell down the small set of stairs you were at the top of.

Sam, being the closest, caught you. "Good thing you've got tech skills." He chuckled as you righted yourself, firmly planting your feet on the ground.

"Haha, yeah. I'm not a big fan of violence." You winced as you said it, wishing you could take it back. You didn't want to get into the reasons as to why you don't like violence.

To your surprise, nobody asked why. You would have guessed they would have questions, but maybe they weren't interested in your past. They all had their own issues to deal with afterall.

"Eh, we don't need anymore people for fighting anyway. Welcome to the team." Steve greeted you warmly, as you would have expected from America's golden boy.

You gratefully shook his hand, glad to not have to talk about anything yet. Unfortunately, you tripped again when you tried to move back, falling into the one and only Bucky Barnes.

His hands steadied you, dryly laughing at your clumsiness. "You really are clumsy."

You did you best to not show how embarrassed you were. You couldn't deny the claim. Unless you were fighting, something you vowed to yourself to never do again, you were clumsy.

Being abducted and tortured by Hydra may have made you a competent fighter, but your aptitude for tripping over nothing never left.

"Right, sorry!" You greeted everyone else quickly, eager to get situated in your room. "I'm just going to unpack everything." You waved as you backed out of the room, bumping into the wall as you left.

-

You had just finished putting away your stuff when you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You figured someone would have questions for you.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha was the one to step into your room. Of everyone there, you expected her to have learned about your past. It comes with the territory of being a spy.

"Hi, I was hoping to talk to you." Her tone was friendly, but clearly she was skeptical of you. Again, you weren't surprised.

"I thought you might. I'm assuming you read my file? Honestly, I thought everyone would." You laughed gently, shaking your head at yourself.

"I did. Your file is pretty bare bones though. I did some extra digging... Not everyone else is as nosy as me." She grinned, already pleased with your openness. "So, why'd you pretend to be clumsy?"

"Oh, it wasn't pretend. I've always been clumsy. When everything happened, and I learned how to fight, I thought my newfound agility would help. Turns out, it didn't. The only times I'm even the slightest bit coordinated are when I'm fighting or training, but I wasn't lying about that either. When I escaped, I promised myself I wouldn't hurt anyone else."

"Why join the Avengers at all then?" She looked curious, still unsure if she could trust you.

"I wanted to help people. I just didn't want to use the skills they gave me to do it. So, I learned how to code, figured I could help behind the scenes."

She smiled, letting down her guard. Clearly it would take some time, but you could easily see the two of you being close friends.

"So, nobody knows about what you went through?" She couldn't help but be curious about your past.

"Nope. I don't talk about it much, but it's not a secret. I'll answer anything you want to know." You smiled, eager to try and make a real friend here.

You spent the next few hours answering every question Natasha could think of. You told her about being abducted and experimented on.

That lead to even more questions, basically boiling down to the fact that you're not a super soldier, but you do have enhanced senses- and seemingly enhanced clumsiness for when you're not using them.

You told her about learning how to fight, and the punishments you would endure if you got it wrong. The two of you bonded over the shared experience.

Finally, you told her about how you escaped. When the Winter Soldier escaped, every Hydra effort possible was made to find him. That included you. Resources were spread thin, trying to cover more areas. It was the perfect opportunity for you to get out.

"Really, I owe my freedom to him. Even if he doesn't know anything about me." You felt the tears in your eyes, too many emotions swirling through you to keep it all in anymore. "Since then, I've learned everything I could about technology and coding, which pretty much brings you up to date."

Before she could ask anymore questions, there was another knock on your door. Quickly wiping the tears from your eyes, you called another "come in!"

Steve poked his head in the door, cautiously looking between you and Nat.

"I've been sent to stop the interrogation." He grinned, stepping farther into the room.

Nat rose from her spot on the bed, kissing him on the cheek while rolling her eyes. "It wasn't an interrogation. We were bonding."

"Yeah, over what?" He chuckled, trying to figure out what the two of you had in common.

Maybe it was the look in your eyes, or maybe Nat just likes knowing more than everyone, but she smiled conspiratorially at you before responding. "Girl stuff, babe. Just girl stuff."

You smiled as the couple left the room, grateful for not having to explain everything again.

-

Over the next few weeks, the team constantly teased you for your clumsiness. Well, not the whole team. Nat knew the truth, so she never said anything. Peter never teased you either, although that is likely due to the teasing he endures as well.

Weirdly enough, you bonded with the kid over it, eventually telling him about your past as well.

Normally you could shake it off. They clearly didn't mean anything by it. Except Bucky.

Whenever he said anything, he stared you down. His eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. You're not sure exactly why, but he didn't seem to like you much.

Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have an embarrassing crush on the man.

Really your infatuation started when you first escaped Hydra. His own escape lead to your freedom, so you admired him. When you found out he was working with the Avengers to help people, you admired him even more.

Watching him on missions is really what caused the infatuation to blossom into a full blown crush.

You, however, would adamantly deny that if anyone ever asked. Which is what just happened.

"What?!" You nearly tripped, again, with how quickly you turned to look at Wanda and Nat.

"You heard me." Nat stared at you, a neutral expression on her face. "When are you going to do something about your crush on Barnes."

"I, I don't- I don't have a crush on Bucky." You stuttered, a lackluster job at denying the truth.

"Please, Y/N. It's so obvious!" Wanda joined in.

The three of you hung out a lot around the compound. It was nice to have a support system to lean on when things got hard.

"Well, even if I did, which I'm not saying I do! He doesn't like me. I don't know what I did, but his eyes feel like daggers whenever we're in the same room." You started out strong, but quickly morphed into a sad resignation. It genuinely upset you that Bucky didn't like you.

"I think I might know what that's about..." Wanda bit her lip, immediately feeling guilty at having said anything.

"What!?" You eagerly turned to her, needing answers. You shuffled your way across the room, never fully rising from your seat on the ground.

"I don't know if I should tell you! I'm not even supposed to know, but sometimes his thoughts are really loud!" Her guilt multiplied.

"You have to tell me now! Then I can fix it!" You were practically begging at her feet from your position on the floor.

She looked at Nat, who just shrugged in return. "Not my place, although I would love to hear it."

"Ugh, fine. But you can't tell anyone I told you!" Wanda glared at the two of you, unable to say no to your pouting face. "The first day we all met you, do you remember what you said?"

Your face scrunched as you tried to remember. "I'm not a big fan of violence?"

She nodded, looking at you as if she just told you everything.

"So?" You asked incredulously, unable to follow her train of thought.

She rolled her eyes, having to spell it out for you. "He kind of took that personally..."

Immediately, you sunk completely to the floor. "Oh, god. Fuck! That's not what I meant at all! I just meant I don't personally like using violence! Shit, shit, shit." You continued to mutter to yourself as Nat and Wanda shared a look.

"Why don't you like using violence?" Wanda asked, intrigued by your reaction.

You thought back to your conversation with Nat the first day you got here. You told her it wasn't a secret, it just wasn't something you brought up.

"Can you just look in my head? I don't really wanna explain it, but I want you to know." You asked, glad to share you past with another friend.

Wanda nodded, seemingly doing nothing until realization dawned on her.

"Oh shit." She whispered, not even realizing she said it out loud.

"Yeah." You huffed out a dry laugh.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry." You smiled at her, having worked through most of the trauma already. "You totally have a crush on Barnes though."

That earned a real laugh. "Hey, that's not what you were in there for!"

"It's not my fault! You were thinking it really loudly!"

The three of you laughed together until you sunk back into a pit of despair.

"What do I do? How do I fix this?" You whined, laying back on the ground like a child.

"I think you just need to talk to him. Explain what you meant." Wanda shrugged, unsure of any other advice to offer you.

"She's right. Just talk to him." Nat nodded along as you whined on the floor.

-

After a few days, you finally worked up enough courage to try and talk to Bucky. He had just finished training, so you knew exactly where he'd be: in the kitchen.

Walking in, you were glad to see him pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"Hey Bucky, can I, um, talk to you for a minute?" You stuttered through the words, nervous about what he would say.

He barely looked at you, nodding his head for you to continue.

"I just, I wanted to apologize." You trailed off when his head snapped up.

"For what?" Well shit. How are you supposed to explain this one without ratting out Wanda.

"Oh, well, um... I just thought maybe I said- I did something that upset you. Uh, you just don't seem to like me very much, which is totally cool, you don't have to like me if you don't want to. I just didn't want it to be my fault... Fuck." That went horribly. Taking a deep breath, you started over. "I didn't mean it."

Bucky is looking at you like you have three heads. "Didn't mean what?"

"That I don't like violence."

"So you do... like violence." He'd somehow grown more confused.

"Well, no." You paused, unsure of how to explain yourself.

"Then you did mean it." His soul piercing stare is back.

"I-"

"It's fine, save it. Some people get to choose not to be violent." And with that, he left the kitchen, abandoning his post workout smoothie.

You stared at the doorway, in shock over how poorly that went. You stood there , unaware of the 25 minutes that had passed, trying to figure out how it could've gone better when Steve found you.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You didn't hear him, too lost in the memories. Memories of Hydra, forcing you to do things you never wanted to. This happened from time to time if something triggered you into remembering, otherwise you had a handle on your emotions.

"Y/N?" Steve said your name again, concern evident in his voice. He gently laid a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

Everything happened so fast after that. The feeling of someone's hand on your shoulder caused you to panic. With all the memories of Hydra in your head, your training kicked in instinctually.

You grabbed Steve's arm, pulling him closer to you for better leverage. Before he could question your moves, you flipped him, pinning him to the ground.

The second you made eye contact, you realized what just happened. Horror and regret flashed in your eyes.

In an effort to get off him, you threw yourself backward, knocking into a cart full of pots and pans. The clanging of metal hitting the ground echoed through the small room.

Steve sat up slowly, trying to register the turn of events. You sat in a ball on the floor, tears pooling in your eyes, mumbling apologies over and over again.

Sam, having heard the commotion from the pots and pans, ran into the kitchen ready to fight.

"What- What happened?" He asked in confusion, lowering his arms from their defensive position.

"I don't know." Steve looked at you, still trying to figure it out.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was gentle, but it still startled you.

You jumped from the ground, rushing to help Steve get up. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. I never wanted to hurt anyone again." Your breathing was picking up, short bursts of air leaving your lungs. Your hands were shaking as you pulled him from the ground.

Your panic increased as you took in their concerned expressions.

"Hey, look at me." Steve's Captain voice, came out, urging you to make eye contact. You followed orders, breathing rapidly, your whole body shaking.

"I'm going to touch you now, is that okay?" His words were gentle, but commanding, causing you to nod in response.

He pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You wanted to explain, to tell them what happened, but all that came out was a pitiful "Bucky".

"Do you want me to get Bucky?" Sam asked, trying to understand you.

The idea of Bucky coming back caused your panic to increase. You shook your head rapidly, "No! No no no no no." You kept repeating the word, shaking in Steve's arms.

"Okay! Okay, no Bucky." Sam reassured you, voice calm and soothing.

You’re not sure how long you stood like that. Sam moved around the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had knocked over.

When your breathing steadied, Steve asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You nodded, leading the two men to the couch in the adjacent common area. You sat for a minute, unsure of where to start.

"Why don't you just lead us through it all?" Steve suggested, still rubbing your back.

You nodded, grateful for the starting point. "I went to the kitchen to apologize to Bucky."

"What for?" Sam interrupted, already confused.

"Sam! Just let her talk." Steve muttered, slightly annoyed.

"Sorry!" He glared back at Steve before turning to you, "Sorry, please continue."

You couldn't help but laugh at their banter.

"Right, I wanted to apologize for what I said the first day I met you all. I realized how it sounded, so I wanted to try and fix it." You paused, waiting for the recognition to hit them.

It didn't take long. The two men nodded, silently urging you to continue.

"Honestly, Wanda told me that was why he always seems mad at me. You have to know, I never meant for it to come across that way! It's more of a personal, 'I don't want to be violent' than shunning others for doing what's necessary." You took a deep breath, not eager to relive the conversation.

"Anyway, I told him I didn't mean it. I just couldn't explain it right, and he got upset, which makes sense!" You turned to look between them, not wanting them to think you were insulting Bucky in any way. "I don't hold what he did against him. It wasn't his choice, and I completely understand that. I just couldn't put that into words when I was talking to him, and I made everything worse."

Tears popped into your eyes again, upset at what he must be going through. You weren't with Hydra for but a tenth of the time he was, and you didn't endure the same level of brainwashing.

"He said something about some people not being able to choose not to be violent, and then he left. I don't know how long I was standing in the kitchen replaying the conversation, but it brought up bad memories for me." You sighed again, working up the nerve to tell them everything.

"Wanda and Nat already know, but I guess it's your guys's turn. This was so much easier to just have Wanda read my mind." You laughed at your own joke, the two men sharing a concerned look.

"I was taken... by Hydra. They experimented on me, gave me enhanced senses, trained me to fight, and punished me when I did something wrong." Again, tears sprung into your eyes, occasionally falling down your cheeks.

"Why wasn't this in your file?" Steve questioned, more to himself than you.

"I haven't got a clue. I guess nobody knew about me? But, I escaped. They didn't brainwash me like they did Bucky, because I don't have the serum. Or, at least, I think that's why." You shook your head, refocusing on the important parts.

"When every available Hydra agent was tasked with searching for the Winter Soldier, I took it as on opportunity. Their resources were spread thin. I was able to getaway."

You went onto explain your reasoning for joining the Avengers as a tech specialist, trying to convey the same earnestness you did with Nat.

"You can ask Nat or Wanda too. Nat found out day one, Wanda a few days ago." You wiped your tears, hoping they believed you. "Actually, Peter knows too."

"I was stuck in all those memories when you came into the kitchen. I didn't even register that you were in the room, so when you touched me I freaked out. I never meant to hurt you!"

You looked at Steve fearful that he would be upset.

"Y/N, I believe you." You cried tears of relief at his statement, genuinely exhausted from the day. "It's not your fault, and you didn't hurt me. Just caught me off guard. You're surprisingly agile when you want to be." He tried to lighten the mood, glad to hear you laugh.

"Well, I train in the middle of the night sometimes. I- I want to be able to get out if I'm ever forced back there." Your voice was quiet, admitting a secret you hadn't even told Nat.

"We won't let that happen." The sternness of Sam's voice surprised you.

"Thank you." You wiped your tears a final time, looking between the two men. "Now, what do I do about Bucky?" You refocused your energy on fixing your relationship with the super soldier.

"He never would have said what he said if he had known." Steve started the conversation, defending his friend.

"I know. I don't hold it against him, I just wish I could explain. I get so nervous when he looks at me like that." You rambled, too tired to filter your thoughts.

"Like what?" Sam asked, eager for more information to tease Bucky with.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. Like he can see into my soul." You deadpanned, earning a laugh from both men. "I just want him to like me." You nearly whined, upset by your poor relationship.

"Like you, huh?" Steve grinned. Nat and Wanda chose that exact moment to walk into the room, eagerly joining the conversation.

"Barnes? Did you tell him how you feel?" Wanda squealed with excitement.

You buried your head in your hands, avoiding the knowing looks the four of them were surely sharing. "Not exactly." You gestured to your head, hoping Wanda would figure it out and share with Nat.

"Ooh... It didn't go well, basically Barnes got upset, Y/N flipped Steve and had a panic attack, then told these two everything." Wanda explained to Nat quickly, trying not to make you relive it.

"We need a plan." Nat declared.

"No, I just need to learn how to have a conversation with the man." You rolled your eyes at yourself. "I'll try talking to him again." You went to leave the room, turning around to glare at them. "And none of you can say a word of this to Bucky."

-

Despite you request, Steve still tried to talk to Bucky.

"What's up with you?" Steve questioned, trying to subtly pry into Bucky's thoughts.

"Nothing. Why?" Bucky answered in a questioning tone, trying to figure out Steve's motives.

"I heard you talked to Y/N is all. How'd it go?" He gave up on the subtle approach pretty quickly, knowing Bucky wouldn't answer a question that wasn't asked.

"How did you even hear that, punk?" Bucky deflected.

"Not the point. Answer the question."

"Not great. I messed it up." Bucky sighed, annoyed at himself for barging out of the room. "She said wanted to apologize, that she didn't mean what she said." He ran his hands through his hair, struggling to explain where it all went wrong.

"Would've been fine if I could follow what she was saying. She was rambling about me not liking her, which you and I both know isn't true. Ugh, i've never been mad at her. I'm mad at myself! At Hydra for making me a monster! How could she ever like me if she doesn't like violence? My entire past is violent." He huffed, having worked himself up again.

"You're not a monster, Buck." Steve started gently.

"I know you think that." Steve gave him a pointed glare. "I know, okay? But what does she think?"

"Maybe you should try talking to her. You might be surprised by what you learn." Steve clapped him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him, before leaving the room.

-

Everytime you tried to talk to Bucky, something got in the way. The first time, he was called in for an emergency mission before you even got the word hello out.

The second time, Tony walked into the common area, completely oblivious to the tension, and put on a movie.

The third time, Steve and Nat interrupted you. You were just about to apologize again after an awkward greeting when the elevator doors opened. The sounds of the cheerful laughter and stolen kisses didn't really set the mood for confessing your past with Hydra.

The fourth, and final time, was the most embarrassing.

You walked into the room on a mission. You were going to talk to him, no matter who decided to walk in.

"Bucky, I really need to-" and you tripped on a toy Morgan left out, causing you to tumble to the ground. That would have been embarrassing enough, but there's more.

In your effort to get up, you tripped again, hitting your head on the coffee table, causing you to bleed profusely.

"Shit." You cursed yourself, holding your hand up to your bleeding forehead.

"Are you okay?" Bucky rushed to you from the other side of the table, concerned with the amount of blood spewing from your head.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Unfortunately, you chose that moment to jokingly reference your past.

Some of the people who tortured you had a sick sense of humor. Whenever they would hit you hard enough to make you bleed, they said something about only having one head. A play on words because of the greek serpent with multiple heads.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, I'm lucky I only have one." You froze instantly, unsure if he would have had a similar experience. Slowly, you looked up in an effort to make eye contact.

Bucky was also frozen in place. Clearly he understood the reference.

"Wh- where did you hear that?" Bucky struggled with his sentence, trying not to flashback to his time at Hydra.

"Oh my god. I'm so so sorry." You instantly started apologizing, trying to backtrack. "I really need to learn when to stop fucking talking." You said more to yourself than him.

"Where did you hear it?" He asked again, putting more power behind his words.

"Um, well, i've been trying to tell you for weeks now, but um, I also kind of, have, um, well, you see-"

"Just spit it out." There was the slightly miffed Bucky you were used to.

"I was taken. By Hydra. 9 years ago. Um, they forced me to learn how to fight. Tortured me if I did anything wrong. Forced me to do things..." You trailed off, realizing you didn't need to give him many details. He has first hand experience.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off before he could say anything else.

"That's why I don't like using violence. I only know how to do that stuff because they made me learn it. I didn't want to use the skills they gave me." You took a deep, grounding breath.

"I don't blame you for anything you were forced to do. It wasn't your choice. You're not a violent person, and your past actions don't define who you are. You're here to help people. That's what you chose. That's who you are."

You made eye contact before you continued. "I've actually wanted to thank you for the longest time."

"For what?" He was incredulous, wildly caught off guard by everything you've said.

"The only reason I had an opportunity to escape was because 2 years ago, you escaped. If Hydra's resources hadn't been spread so thin trying to find you, I probably would've never got out. So thank you. For being strong enough to fight back."

You smiled at him, still unsure of how he was feeling.

"I... I'm so sorry." To say you were stunned was an understatement. What the hell could he have to be sorry about? Sure he was a little rude, but from your point of view he was completely justified in hating you.

"Bucky, you have no reason to be sorry. You didn't know, and I couldn't get out of my head enough to tell you. You just make me nervous." You clapped a hand over your mouth, shocked at having said what you just said.

You could see his face fall ever so slightly, causing you to jump back into your explanation.

"Not because I'm scared of you or anything! Hell, I could probably take you in a fight." You winked, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, judging by the slight smirk on his face.

"I just, I've looked up to you for so long. Your determination to do good after everything you've been through is really inspiring. It's actually why I wanted to join the Avengers in the first place. I never would have-" You would have kept rambling if he hadn't stopped you.

"Y/N, I am sorry, and I do have reason to be. There's no excuse for what I said to you in the kitchen that day. Even if I didn't know, I threw everything you've been through back in your face. If someone had done that to me, I probably would have had a panic attack." He tried joking, but by the way you froze he could tell he struck a nerve.

"You had a panic attack? I'm so sorry! God, I just left you all alone and-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "Actually, I was kind of frozen in place until Steve touched me and I maybe threw him to the ground... Then I had a panic attack..." You smiled, trying to convey the joke. "So, I wasn't alone. Sam was actually also there. If anything, it made me better friends with both of them because I told them everything. So I have you to thank for that to." You playfully nudged his side.

He ran his hands through his hair, then down his face, clearly trying to deal with his own guilt.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it. You didn't know. It happened. We're good now, so we can move on." You smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"How are you so relaxed about all of this? You were tortured for years... I..." He was genuinely curious, trying to find a way to cope with his own pain.

"Well, even before that I always thought therapy could be helpful for me, so I really jumped in full force when I was free. Plus, if you can't joke about something, you haven't really moved on. Some days are harder than others, but I just try to appreciate the people I have now and the good experiences I've been lead to." You kept the tone light, trying not to get too emotional.

He just stared at you for a few minutes, making you questions everything.

"I mean, it's totally different for you though! I was only there for 7 years, you were forced into all that for like 10 times as long. I didn't mean to belittle-"

"I think you inspire me just as much as you say I've inspired you." He cut you off again, a small smile growing on your lips.

"Well, in the spirit of our newfound friendship, can I be totally honest?" You bit your lip, nervous about telling him the truth.

He looked nervous as well, but nodded anyway.

"I kind of, maybe, sort of have a crush on you." You watched his expression carefully, although there was really no need. His face easily gave away his surprise.

"You..." He stuttered, moving his fingers between the two of you. "Me? But, I was so mean!"

"What can I say, I saw through the facade... Well, really Wanda accidentally read your mind and told me why you were so upset around me when her and Nat teamed up to get me to tell you how I feel." You rambled again, realization dawning that you accidentally outed Wanda.

"But you can't tell her I told you that! She didn't mean to! She just said you think really loud sometimes and it's hard not to hear it! She did it to me too actually, I mean I told her she could look in my head so I wouldn't have to explain everything again, I know so lazy, and that's how she confirmed my crush on you." You said it all with wide eyes at a rapid speed, unable to control yourself around Bucky.

You slapped your hands over your mouth, forcing yourself to stop talking. Bucky looked on in amusement, slowly reaching to pull your hands away from your face.

"I won't tell her, if you get dinner with me tonight." He smiled cheekily, relishing in your blush.

"That's a deal I'm willing to make." You reached your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek before running to get ready.

***

Bonus:

Sam whined playfully as he looked at the high scores. "Whose username is 'God is a spoon' and how did they get so good at this game?"

He looked around the room, eying any suspicious candidates. Everyone denied it, throwing out accusations left and right.

It was another of Tony's team bonding nights and he chose VR games on the oculus. Obviously, Beat Saber was a top contender amongst the group.

You walked in with Bucky, unaware of the conversation going on, but immediately joining it.

"Peter! I bet it was him!" You playfully nudged the younger Avenger, having formed a close friendship in the early days. "What am I betting on?" Everyone laughed, happy to see you in a good mood after being so stressed for so long.

"Whose username is 'God is a spoon'." Sam chuckled after filling you in. You and Bucky settled on the couch, cuddling next to each other.

"Oh, that's me. Why?" You looked around curiously, trying to figure out what they wanted. "Is it a weird username? It was actually one of the catchphrase things in Just Dance on the switch, I didn't just think of it." You tried to justify yourself, causing more laughter.

"You?! How did you get all the highscores on this game? I thought you were the clumsy one."

You made an exaggerated face to show how offended you were, playfully swatting at Sam.

"I'll have you know, 7 years of Hydra 'training' and experimentation has its perks." You joked with the room. "One of them being I can beat your ass at pretty much any video game."

"Oh, you're so on." Sam smiled, glad he could joke around with you about it.

Meanwhile, Tony looked incredulously around the room, being the only one in the room who hadn't heard about your history, he was rightfully confused.

"I'm sorry, 7 years of WHAT?"