#there are three musical things that got me through sophomore year of college which is when i was figuring out my sexuality

[sugaggukkie]

not to show up after literal weeks of being mia but I need need need to document this because HOLY SHIT

NAMJOON FUCKING POSTING SUFJAN STEVENS⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ NAMJOON POSTING GOODBYE EVERGREEN BY SUFJAN STEVENS SPECIFICALLY⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ JESUS FUCKING CHRIST⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

[specific-dreamer]

stay gold is for darry too

“when you’re young and the world is new / it’s easy to forget when you’re trying just to make it through”

bc, cmon guys, darry is twenty. 20, two-zero. idk how different college was back then, so bare with me.

he’s from tulsa oklahoma, the south, and he’s twenty years old. assuming he didn’t take a gap year (i’m going off the musical sayin he had to drop out, instead of not go all together) he would’ve been in his second year of school.

(i’m putting a break here because this turned more into a headcanon than an analysis i fear)

and we know darry’s a lil extroverted social butterfly, i’m sure he made so many friends. do you think he told them he was going home for the weekend but would totally be back for that frat party? or do you think he had a best friend on campus that he couldn’t wait to introduce to his family and the gang because he just knew how’d great they’d get on?

because he’s at a state college likely, there’s gonna be greaser/soc rivalries still but chances are so high that the max tension will be arguments. so it’s likely he even got to (freely, and guilt free) make friends with socs.

his biggest worries sophomore year was if he would finish his homework and papers before the weekend so he could go home for his birthday. his biggest worry was working up the nerve to still his dad he blew his allowance that month on some girl. his biggest worry was struggling with being a first gen college student, juggling his papers and football practice, and his work study.

i’m willing to bet he didn’t even tell his parents he’d be home that weekend. i’m thinkin he told dally, because dally would likely forget to tell the others he was comin and everyone else can’t keep their mouths shut for shit.

i think he went to Oklahoma State, which is only 2 hours from tulsa. so, i’m thinking he caught the greyhound really really early that morning, like crackass of dawn early. and when he gets there it’s probably 6:00 and through the window darry can see his parents rousing soda and pony up for school. (school may start at 8:30, but they got two rowdy teenage boys one of whom hates school to get ready, they’ll wake up an hour earlier than necessary)

darry, in all his older brother glory, probably waits for the perfect moment to make his grand entrance. he’d wait until he hears ponyboy loudly complaining that “darry doesn’t have to wake up this early” and he fuckin grins because that’s the most perfect entry for him.

but he can’t get excited, not yet. he’s gotta act like it’s no big deal that he’s here, so he opens the door all casual like and starts toeing off shoes as he closes it behind him. and in his arrogant, i’m-the-eldest-of-course-i’m-right voice he says, “you’re so right, little brother. i actually woke up three hours ago.” and darry tries his damndest he really does, but he can’t help the way his chest loosens and his grin widens and it feels like every stressful thing he’d been worried about rolls off back when he hears the gasps and “sweet mother mary” from his family when he announces himself.

he probably doesn’t even get his second shoe off before he’s knocked to ground by pony (soda would have too, if he was anymore awake, instead he’s just staring at darry in confusion).

i’m gonna write a fic BUT BACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING

do you think darry feels guilty for not having called ahead of time? do you think he wishes he stayed at school that weekend so parents wouldn’t have gotten in that wreck? do you think a small of darry, a part that he hates as each day passes, wishes that he let the social workers take his brothers? only to instantly regret that train of thought when his brothers crawl into his bed at 10pm trying to stop shaking and crying so they don’t “wake” darry

do you think that it was in that moment, that all those childhood jokes with his parents and phony arguments with paul suddenly became real. that sodapop and ponyboy are his babies. they may not be his in the same way that curly and angela are tim’s kids, but his friends at school are always sayin darry needs to stop referring to pony as his “littlest”.

we know darry didn’t cry at the funeral (or at all, at least to pony’s knowledge) but i really think college was such a breath of fresh air for darry that he was probably holding back sobs when he called his schools admission office to drop out.

i think before they could bury their parents properly, darry had to convince his brothers to go down to school with him so he could pack his things up. (i say convince because i think pony might’ve cried himself hoarse thinking that darry was going back to school and leaving them alone)

do you think darry cried the night before they went down to oklahoma state? because his friends were finally going to meet his littles that he could never seem to stop talking about. he’d have to find some way to apologize for missin the frat party (and his 20th birthday, hell, darry thinks his might’ve been more excited than he was) because saying his parents just died and he legally became a father of two is a little too comedic to sound real despite things.

or do you think he avoided his friends like the plague because he knows he’d break down if he saw their pitying eyes? he knew he’d break down if that one girl he couldn’t keep his eyes off of from his psych class saw him and soda carry his boxes to the car and stopped and ask him why he was leaving.

do you think after the funeral when darry made sure his brothers were alright, tucked in for bed and knew they could go find him if they needed anything at all, instead of going to his room he went to his parents room? just to feel their presence one last time. he probably went under their covers too, in the middle like when he was a kid so he could turn left and smell his daddy’s cologne or turn right and smell his mamas rosy perfume, just so he could get one more hug from them. just one more hug before he had to let them go

(do you think when ponyboy inevitably came lookin for darry to scare his nightmares away later that night he got scared when darry wasn’t in his room? do you think he started crying all over again unable to be tough because what if darry’s dead too or worse what if he really did leave them? do you think that’s when pony started sleeping with soda instead. that that’s when his image of darry being a hero cracked because what kind of hero leaves when people are still needing to be saved?)

[gyunglitter]

the links

- just you dicking around with txt college!au besties

warnings: not edited, kinda long, mentions of gym bros, bitchless behavior, drunk fighting, mentions of camp rock, cursing, prolly should’ve put that last before the other lmao, partying, suspicious tampering with drinks

tags: txtxreader (platonic), non-idol!au, college!au, txt, lag, tomorrowxtogether, lesserafim, hansohee, drabble fics!, bulletpoint fics!

notes: bro i’ve been sitting on this for a while, but since i got sick, i finally had the time to actually write this—not very drabble fic of me, but i hope yall enjoyed it :) feel free to send in asks/requests abt this au!!

⚤ masterlist

just how did this rag tag group get together?

tbh with yall

the losers club took a while to actually get established

like

we’re talkin the end of the winter semester babes

to be fair tho☝️🤓

each of you were either awkward, antisocial, or autistic

but you all came around eventually

through small and simple means, the hottest friend group came to be!!

yeonjun + taehyun:

met in calc 101 in the winter semester

taehyun needed the class for his major

but yeonjun accidentally stumbled in on the first day and felt too awkward to leave

he tried to play it cool like he totally belonged

but taehyun could tell right when he sat next to him and his gigantic water bottle and protein shake

it only sealed the deal when yeonjun asked to borrow a pencil

“thanks! oh wow…i don’t think i’ve seen a pencil like this”

“it’s a mechanical..?”

“aha, yeaaaaaah…”

they really looked like 🤨 and ✌🏽🤪✌🏽

the both of them simultaneously felt transported back to their high school days

with yeonjun’s jockiness and taehyun’s brutal deadpan

the two intimidated the HELL out of each other😭

they were extremely awkward despite trying to act like they weren’t they totally were

but that hour of calc was pure torture

yeonjun made sure to stay far away from the engineering building after that lmao

it was only when they accidentally ran into each other at the gym that they bonded

after yeonjun almost dropped the bar on himself and his initial spotter got distracted

he swore he was gonna quite literally off himself at that moment

yeonjun was surprised to see the small kid from calc save him from his death with only ONE arm

an arm that was as big as HIS HEAD?!?! :O

after that, the two saw each other very often and became the ultimate Gym Bros🔥💪🏽

which took a lot of emotional work on both ends after their traumatic high school days

but taehyun STANS yeonjun and his diligence to zumba!

while yeonjun admires taehyun’s pull game when they go to the club together!

they became an unlikely platonic match made in heaven :D

soobin + hueningkai:

this friendship was DESPERATE

to be fr

soobin was LONELY :(

he’d be starting his third year of college and had yet to find his forever-friends his therapist promised he’d make once he made it to college!!

it wasn’t until he met his double at the Video and Audio Enthusiasts club meeting

a club created solely to use the conputer and projector room from 5-6pm every thursday to watch jujutsu kaisen without the faculty knowing

soobin had been apart of the club since his sophomore year when it started, but there was only so much socializing he could do with the same three people who come

at least until a very green freshman!kai walked in!!

it was kai’s first semester and first week away from home

and boy was he nervous

his older sister who had just graduated from the same college forced him to sign up for clubs in order to make good friends

she held his precious molang plushie hostage until he came back with proof of signing up for at least one club :(

BUT HE WAS SO OVERWHELMED AT CLUB RUSH??

all these ppl pitching why their club was so great with their bright posters, over enthusiastic campaigners, and loud music blasting from portable speakers???

kai just wanted to go back to his room and down the tub of mint choco he left in his mini fridge

but alas

the things he does for molang !! >.<

he signed up for the audio and visual enthusiasts club solely bc there was only one person manning the table

and she was knocked out

so when he signed up, he skedaddled out of there with the intention of showing up to one meeting before staging a dramatic but undeniable leave of absence

for the rest of the year >:)

little did he know his first day would bring him an adorable, lanky man who would never leave him alone!!

fr tho

soobin saw this 6’0 child who gave off “i WILL bit you” vibes and said

“he’s mine”

and the rest was history tbh

you never really see one without the other with the way they leech on to each other

the two of them honestly are complete angels together

beomgyu + you:

now

YOU TWO

if soobin and kai are angels, yall are the goddamn devils💀

you guys actually met your freshman year

you shared a lot of the same generals, but didn’t interact that much

mainly bc beomgyu was typically either gaming or sleeping in

meanwhile you always showed up to class zooted

unlike your classes that focused on your major, your generals were classes you couldn’t care less about

and your grades sure did show for it😬

your parents and teachers were worried you were gonna flunk out after your first semester and lose your scholarship

it wasn’t until the two of you were thrown together for a group project that things changed

forced proximity trope🥵

but not for the reasons you’re thinking!!

instead of working together, pulling all nighters, and trauma bonding together

you guys were the only ones slacking during all of the group meetings

the both of you succeed in pissing the other members off as yall constantly showed up late, distracted each other with origami cranes/airplanes/SMASH, and once got the group kicked out of the library for trying to secretly smoke a bowl behind the stacks

but you blamed that on beomgyu and his weak lungs

safe to say, you and beomgyu did a great job of alienating yourselves from the other members in your group

(fun fact: soobin was one of them—he HATED yall)

but you two ultimately bonded after skipping one of the meetings when you bumped into each other on campus and decided to go to the arcade down the street instead LMAO

after successfully beating him at the racing games and letting him win the sharpshooter games, the two of you were inseparable!!

especially since yall flunked that class and had to take it again the next semester lmao

you almost lost your scholarship

but for the rest of your classes, beomgyu helped you cram for your exams!

turns out your stoner-gamer-boy-bestie used to be student body vice president in high school??

he helped you pass the rest of your classes your freshman and sophomore years, in exchange you let him collect all your scarabs😭

hueninkai + taehyun:

this friendship is so cute omg

this came during winter semester, after kai established a friendship with soobin and restored some of his self-confidence

and with all his new, interesting classes finally catering to his curious nature

kai had started to branch out of his shell and thrive in the college environment

he still didn’t have any friends besides soobin, but he faced everyday with a bright smile :)

and then there was taehyun

fall semester had not been kind to him, having no time for socializing quite yet :(

poor taehyun at the time was exhausted from his ridiculous workload and would show up to class half dead each morning

BUT IN COMES HYUKA THE ANGEL😭

the two shared a life skills class and were seat mates

kai noticed taehyun’s state each morning

which wasn’t too hard since taehyun was slumped over his desk every morning and only woke up when class started

and sometimes not even then

in response, kai had kindly made a habit of bringing taehyun a coffee each morning and leaving it on his desk :(

not only that, kai was always just a natural energizer!

with his positive attitude and earnest countenance, taehyun couldn’t help but feel ready to take on the day as well !

as thanks, there never failed to be a copy of the answer key to whatever test was coming up on hueningkai’s desk the next day

taehyun really is THAT man🥵

ngl hyuka felt like he had a sugar daddy of sorts at the beginning

but the two have the sweetest friendship after that!!

they’re genuinely so grateful for each other and balance out really well

yeonjun + you + beomgyu:

a friendship that started off contractually

it was the winter semester of your sophomore year and you were in a bit of an artistic drought

the last time your work had taken off was a complete accident

you’d been high off your ass and posted a hodgepodge of the last 10 screenshots in your camera roll, smartly titled “Hell is A Teenage Girl”

it gained so much attention for its authenticity and now you had no idea how to follow THAT up :(

your bestie beomgyu constantly offered to model for you

but you could never take him seriously after he showed up to your house in lingerie so you could “picture him like your french girls”

“that’s not even how it goes, headass”

“it’s called taking ‘creative liberties’, birdbrain—and you’re supposed to be the artist?”

“please…just put some clothes on. i can’t take you seriously when your balls are in my face”

anyways

you were struggling to come up with anything after that stunt

until you saw your muse in him

the him being yeonjun, who came straight from zumba and was currently downing a bowl of ramyeon from the caf

you shared no classes, interests, or mutuals

but one thing you had in common?

you both thought he was hot!!

you had cornered him with the abrupt confession that he had the most "photograph-able" face and you needed to shoot him for a new project of yours

(with compensation, of course)

yall looked like 🫵🙂📷 and ⁉️😗🍜

yeonjun reluctantly agreed since he was broke and needed more ramyeon money

the shoot started off kind of uncomfortable since you two were incredibly awkward

but you eventually warmed up to each other with your terrible jokes that made him die laughing!

you never would've pegged him as a pun-lover, but you were certainly not disappointed :)

as the shoot finished up, you ended up going out for ice cream together

to which beomgyu crashed and ended up fighting with yeonjun about everything under the sun

it all started with yeonjun’s preference for mint choco, that everything started to go up in flames lmao

you were sure yeonjun would want nothing to do with the pair of you after that night

BUT THEN THE PICTURES WENT VIRAL

your work blew up once again and yeonjun got many modelling offers!!

with the newfound clout given to yeonjun, came an unlikely partnership between you two as you brought out the best in each other’s works

and with you, came beomgyu as a package deal

the two eventually ended up bonding as time went on and they discovered they shared many interests

but you were the glue to hold them together for a while since they never failed to get on each other’s nerves

tom and jerry fr🙄

everyone:

after a draining week of school and his zumba class getting cancelled, yeonjun decided he wanted to go to a party

he needed a drink and a good excuse to dance since his feet were happy and his hips were in need of speaking their truth

lucky for him, there was supposed to be a CRAZY RAGER this weekend

yeonjun was told it was thrown by some uppclassmen named jackson wang or something?

🤷‍♀️

BUT IT WAS PERFECT!!

but he couldn't go alone--he'd look like a loser

which he's NOT >:(

so he brought his gym bro, taehyun!

but then the two were faced with the predicament of looking like much worse

homosexuals!! :0

god forbid two men hang out in public

so taehyun brought his other bestie, kai!!

but mans hates large social gatherings and would rather drown in his toilet than watch the musclemen pull the pretty girls he was afraid of

so he brought the also bitchless soobin along to keep himself entertained :D

meanwhile you were also getting dragged to the party by beomgyu, whose band had gigged it, since he needed emotional support!

the event had started off fine!

beomgyu was killing it with his band

soobin and kai were awkwardly curbing girls' stares and suspicious drinks sent their way with queries as to a foursome

yeonjun was in the middle of a mosh pit, getting absolutely wrecked

taehyun was getting danced on by not one, but TWO girls

AT THE SAME TIME

and you were currently crowd surfing despite having no recollection as to how you got there

you were honestly not vibing since you had a slight fear of heights

and an aversion to sweaty men in closed spaces

so when you were eventually put down, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen to get a breather

and maybe a shot while you were at it—god knows you need one to get through the rest of the night

however, your plans halted once you caught sight of your beloved ex-group partner from biochem!!

“woah hey, soobie-boobie?!” you hollered

cue soobin, who was in the middle of a heated rant about the band refusing his request of playing “meant to be” by bebe rexha, freezing with a soulless look in his eyes

it was you

you (+beomgyu, btw) were the reason he had to pull multiple all nighters to complete your part of the project you failed to do the previous year

mans nearly lost the will to live during that project

he’d hated yall with a passion and did NOT fail to snitch after the project was submitted

it was bc of him that you had to retake that class and almost get your scholarship revoked

of course, nobody knew it was him, since he was a sly motherfucker and blamed it on kim chaewon instead

but he planned on taking that secret with him to the grave, since he would rather take a nap on the freeway than deal with confrontation

but he had no reason to, by the way you were calling for him with the dopiest smile on your face

he hoped he could get away with ignoring you since it was so loud

but then you let out a screech that pierced the heavens

“SOOBIE BOOBIE TOOBIE WOOBIE FOOBIEEEEE!!”

hhnggg

he closed his eyes to block out the sight of you now standing on the counter and waving your arms like crazy

if he couldn’t see you, then you didn’t exist

but, unfortunately, soobin wasn’t the only person with eyes and ears

“hey, hyung, i dunno if it’s just me, but i think that girl might know you!”

soobin opened his eyes to see kai waving back at the girl for him

soobin wanted to die when he saw you take that as confirmation to join them

“hey! long time no see!!” you greeted as you took a seat with the pair of them

hyuka easily took to you while soobin tried his best not to look utterly disgusted

“so how do you two know each other?” kai asked

“soobin and i were paired for a group project last year!”

soobin frowned at you, but you were none the wiser as you entertained the curious kai

“oh cool!! what class was that?”

“honestly, i have no clue! i was high half the school year, thank god soobin was there to help me and my other friend for that project!”

soobin scoffed at that, causing both you and kai to look at him questioningly

“was that a cough?”

“did you need a drink?” you innocently offered one of the many drinks the boys had discarded

soobin shook his head vigorously at that, making you shrug

“welp, more for me then!”

AND DOWNED IT

kai and soobin were too slow to stop you, and watched in horror as you finished the drink with a pinched expression

“holy shit, are you okay?!” soobin asked

but you were preoccupied with the upset feeling in your stomach

“ugh, what the hell was that?” you tried to stop yourself from burping, but you could feel yourself getting lightheaded

“ah man, i knew those drinks weren’t safe” kai winced, watching as you nearly fell out of your seat before soobin caught you

soobin groaned at the prospect of having to take care of you, but lifted you up a bit while you babbled and whisked yourself out of his hold

“hey, im fine—i actually feel great! we should go dance!”

and you were off, dragging an innocent kai with you to where the rest of the party was dancing to the band

not wanting to be left alone after you so rudely took his only friend, soobin ran after the pair of you

meanwhile kai, who had been dragged with you, felt like he was gonna have a panic attack in the face of all these people you dragged him toward

he felt like he was getting swallowed up in a sea of drunk, horny young adults

which, technically, he was

you were none the wiser to the boy’s fears as you started dancing

to hueningkai’s absolute horror, you were actually doing the camp rock stomp dance from the second movie

part of him wanted to ask you to drop a tutorial

the better part of him made him want to crawl in a hole and die

for the both of your sakes’, he blamed your behavior on the alcohol and spared you more embarrassment by turning away from you and looking for help

and his saving grace came in the form of his lord and savior, kang taehyun

mans was a lil busy with a few of the drunk and horny young adults himself

but what kai wants, kai gets!!

so when he called for his friend, taehyun came without a complaint

he also miraculously had a glass of water in hand, just in case kai got thirsty

“what’s wrong? do you need to go home?” taehyun worried, shoving the glass into his friend’s hand

kai was grateful for his friend

thank god he wasn’t too drunk to be helpful!!

kai merely shook his head at his friend’s questions, and started to drag him back to you

“there’s a girl who got roofied, and she’s doing the camp rock stomp dance—we have to help her!”

but when kai got to you, he found a mess

that mess being you and soobin squealing around while yeonjun was running away from another guy who looked drunk out of his mind and pissed as hell

how yeonjun and soobin got there? and who this other guy was?? and HOW the three of you managed to piss him off???

kai and taehyun had no clue

but they could tell things did not look good for yall

soobin was currently hiding behind a disoriented you, using your inebriated self as a shield

meanwhile yeonjun was narrowly avoiding haphazard punches thrown at him, practically dancing away from them

“what do i do?! what do i do?!?!” yeonjun screamed

“DRAG HIS ASS!” taehyun yelled, right before socking a random guy in front of him

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” kai screamed, leaping away from the new, unprovoked beatdowns taehyun was causing

“fighting my demons!”

maybe taehyun was a little too drunk to be helpful :/

kai scrambled towards you and soobin, who had backed away from the initial fighting pair

“what the hell happened? i wasn’t even gone for two minutes!!”

“i found y/n right after you left, who had saved yeonjun from the mosh pit—”

“—mans was getting his shit blended in there—”

“we were about to come find you, when y/n grabbed some random guy’s ass—”

“—to be fair, i thought he was kai—”

“and when the guy turned around to fight her, she blamed it on yeonjun!!”

“well, duh! i’m just a lil girl!!”

kai blanched at you, while you pouted up at him

you were all like 🥺 👉🏽👈🏽

you had such a sweet look on your face tbh, that kai and soobin almost cracked

before you turned around barfed into a potted plant

things literally could not get worse

“WORLDSTAR! WORLDSTAAAR!!”

it took the three of you a second to realize where that yelling had been coming from

but you finally found the source when you looked on stage and found beomgyu filming the fights going on

“fuck me, he’s here too?!” soobin whined

and while beomgyu had gotten your guys’ attention, he had also gotten a few others’ as well

“hey, you got your friend filming me? i’m here on scholarship!”

the big guy yelled, grabbing yeonjun to hold him still as he went to punch him again

“oh fuck,” yeonjun muttered

beomgyu fumbled around with his phone and guitar, going to brandish the instrument in one hand like a weapon to help out his friend

but luckily didn’t have to when a pot smashed against the attacker’s head, knocking him out cold

the partygoers watched as the big guy dropped to the floor, right in front of yeonjun

yeonjun looked in disbelief from his side of the fallen body

over to you on the other side, your hand still raised in the air from its defensive attack

“holy shit!” beomgyu gasped

“holy shit!” you gasped back

the party was silent for a second

before everyone erupted in cheers!! :D

and everyone stood up and clapped

“THAT WAS AWESOME!”

people around you were jumping around and back to partying again

meanwhile the rest of the group came back to you

“are you guys okay??” kai asked

“i think i just shit my pants,” yeonjun breathed, clutching onto his chest

he looked as white as a ghost, but he didn’t get any injuries

luckily, the guy was too drunk to properly do any damage to yeonjun

but he was still afraid at the possibility!!

you merely nodded at kai in acknowledgment, before leaning tiredly on the person nearest to you

which happened to be taehyun, as he kept you upright with his non-bloodied hand

and then there was beomgyu, who ran over to yall with his phone in the air

“oh my god, i got the whole thing on video!!”

“did i look cool?”

you asked him tiredly from your position

“kind of, you’ve got a bit of barf on your chin, but i could probably photoshop it out later!”

“let’s gooo!! :D”

the two of you fist bumped, before yeonjun turned to you

“thanks for knocking that guy out, y/n, you saved me”

“but she was the one who got you in that mess—”

“of course, yeonjun! what are friends for?!”

you unknowingly interrupted soobin, causing everyone in the group to clap at your selfless words

"come on, let's all get out of here and get some ramyeon--on me!" yeonjun pulled out his daddy's credit card

causing the rest of the group to cheer

soobin’s eye twitched at yall SO HARD

“are you fucking with me rn?? SHE’S the reason this all happened—?!”

but soobin was drowned out by your guys' cheers as you all headed for the door

"come on soobin, before that guy wakes up and tries to go for round two!"

kai shouted, dragging soobin along and stepping over the guy that was still passed out

"oh, what the hell," soobin gave in, internally praying for the strength to tolerate you and beomgyu for the rest of the night

"woah wait a sec," beomgyu said deliriously, looking at soobin like he just realized he was there

"soobie boobie? when the fuck did you get here?"

soobin, on cue, gave the heaviest eye roll known to man

"i've BEEN here, motherfucker!"

…..

…and the rest was history!!😅

after that, yall just kind of gravitated to each other until suddenly

your snapchat streaks were too high

you’d gone grocery shopping for each other’s favorite snacks

and your moms all knew abt each other and would constantly ask abt you

yall were in too deep and decided to just kind of stick together after that :)

[angelinaheartshapedbox]

A Slapshot To The Heart

eren jaeger x gn!reader <3

college au/smau. hockey player eren<333. musician/dancer reader.

summary: y/n l/n is a sophomore at paradis university with a scholarship in music. while taking a necessary technology course to complete their major, they meet the infamous hockey player, eren jaeger. y/n does their best to avoid him, but their efforts fail as they continue to run into him everywhere. they soon find that eren isn't the douche bag every depicts him as, and grows very fond of his company.

WARNINGS: swearing, lower case intended, not super proofread, reader uses they/them pronouns, i'm sorry if y/n is a lil feminine at times :((, reader is attracted to all genders, eren is a huge himbo dork, any major trigger warnings will be given before each chapter.

this series is entirely sfw. mild suggestive themes, but nothing explicit.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

point one!

"hey, i know you, right?"

word count: 1.1k

chapter tws: none.

little did jean know that i wasn't even driving yet. i was grabbing my bag, keys, and laptop while rushing out the door. now, i'm driving and heading to the cafe that we always meet up at. i'm very eager for my [drink order].

i get to the cafe pretty quickly since it's only a few blocks from our apartment. i step out of my shitty little car, the cold air immediately nips at my skin, and i pull my jacket out. i can see my friends sitting out our usual table through the glass. i push the door open, the aroma of coffee filling my nose.

"morning!" sasha says as she waves enthusiastically.

"g'morning" i reply. i pull out a chair where my order is sitting.

"eat fast we have like," jean looks at his phone, "ten-ish minutes."

"okay, mom" i mumbled through a mouthful of bagel.

"you're disgusting," he scoffs.

"that's not what your mom said!" connie speaks for me.

i hold up my palm, and he smacks it, "nice."

sasha laughs and jean looks at the three of us, extremely unamused. i smile at him before biting into my bagel again.

eventually, we decide it's time to go, and we pack our things. the other three get in jean's car, and i get in mine. it takes about two minutes to get to school, and another five to find parking. we now only had eight minutes to get to our respective classes.

"usual place for lunch?!" i yell at them from the other side of the parking lot.

"yeah!" connie shouts back, holding a thumbs up.

"mkay! mwah!" i blow them all a kiss as i turn around.

i pull out my phone to see where my new class is. "room S17." i tuck my phone away, and speed walk to the S building. thank god my class was downstairs.

i murmured to myself as i walked through the hallway, "fourteen, fifteen, sixteen… seventeen! there we go."

i open the door, and peer into the classroom. i see professor hange sitting at their desk in the corner. i didn't know they taught this course. they were my chemistry professor my freshman year, they were my favorite.

i see that most of the seats have been filled there's a few scattered around, but they're all in the first three rows. i place myself at the very end of the second row, closest to the door. there's an empty seat next to me. i look around to see if i recognize anyone. i notice mikasa sitting in the front row, her friend armin sat next to her. i also notice eren jeager standing in front of them, talking.

"okay, it's currently thirty seconds until we begin, i'd like to ask all you to take a seats," hange stands with a big smile on their face, "eren, go sit down, so we can start our fun semester."

eren turns his head, "huh? oh, got it." he walks away from his friends, a few other hockey guys laughing as he passes them. he does a few fist bumps as he finds a seat. which seat, you may ask? oh, just the one directly next to me.

hange starts speaking about the course syllabus. everyone takes their notebooks out to take notes. i feel a tap on my shoulder as i write, i turn to eren.

"can i borrow some paper? i forgot my notebook" he asks with an awkward smile.

"uh, sure" i return his grin, and rip out a few sheets for him.

"thanks" he says.

"no problem" i reply, and returned to my paper.

i get about two seconds of quiet.

"hey, i know you, right?" he whispers, leaning in a little.

"we went to high school together. we were in mrs. kelso's history class junior year" i glance at him quickly.

"oh, shit, yeah. y/n? right?" he questions, tilting his head.

"yep" i mumbled, popping the 'p'.

"cool, cool. you know mikasa too, huh? i've seen you guys in the music room. where else have i seen you?" he continues to pester me.

"i'm jean kirstein's friend, probably at hockey games."

"that's right! that's crazy we've never talked before" he started to get louder.

"yeah. super crazy" i try to brush him off. i take my phone out under my desk to text jean.

i'm left alone for the rest of the hour and a half class. i don't really wanna get involved with eren in any way. he just seems like bad news, and i don't have the time or energy for that.

once we're excused, i head to my music theory class with mikasa. eren's class happened to be in the next building over, so he walked with us. mikasa and i talked about our band as eren followed behind us.

"that's cool. that you're starting a band," eren said as we walked.

"yeah, we're excited," mikasa replied.

"annie, ymir, and sasha are in it too," i added.

"that's dope, i'd love to see you guys play" he mentioned.

"i'll let you know when we first play," mikasa told him, "this our class. see you later."

"alright, bye. have fun," eren walked out the door at the end of the hallway.

mikasa held the door open for me, and i entered. the familiar faces from last year, including my professor. i take a seat, and prepare for the lesson.

when the class ends, i head to lunch with mikasa. i enter the cafeteria where connie and jean were waiting for me. no sign of sasha, though. mikasa breaks away from me to go to armin and eren.

"where's sash?" i ask the boys as i sit across from them.

"picking up our doordash," connie answers.

"good, i'm starving," i groan.

"you owe me 8.29 for your food, by the way," jean tells me.

i open my phone to venmo him, "you're the worst."

there's a text notification on top of my screen, it's an unknown number. i click on it to see what it says. "probably some scam," i think.

"holy shit, he texted me," i said.

"who texted you?" sasha came from behind me, placing our food on the table, and sitting down.

"eren" i reply.

"jeager?" she and connie say at the same time.

i nod, and show the table.

"what the fuck, man?" jean furrows his brows.

"what? jealous?" i tease.

"ew. no, you're not my type" he cringes.

"yeah, but you obviously have a fat crush on him. you're a little obsessed, j" i mess with him more.

connie stifles laughter, and sasha's already eating.

"you know what? i'm gonna tell him to stop texting my roommate. it's weird" he stands.

"jean, no. he's just texting for school reasons" i stop him before he does something completely embarrassing.

jean sits back down, "whatever."

i return to my phone to reply to eren's message.

previous next

masterlist!!

a/n: that's all for this chapter lol. idk how i feel about this series i think it'll get better. anyway, thanks for reading. <3

character info! y/n and jean are super tight🤞🏻 when eren and jean found out they were on the same team they lost their shit.

[lumosinlove]

Between Fifth and You

(cw in tags)

~

chapter one

“Olives or twist?”

Sirius had to watch the barkeep’s mouth to make out the words beneath the pounding music, which meant Sirius caught the way his eyes skittered across his face almost fearfully. The sheer amount of obsidian in this place probably did nothing to lighten his features. Not to mention, few people knew how to look him in the eye.

“Twist,” he said.

The man nodded and flipped the bottle of gin until it dipped into a shot glass, the glass into the ice. Sirius watched until he was stirring the bitters in and a hand appeared on his shoulder, lips to his neck.

“Burn this,” Saint said, and plucked at Sirius’ shirt sleeve, rubbing the black material between his fingers. Sirius raised an eyebrow as he turned. Saint’s own shirt was unbuttoned half way down his hard chest, light brown skin warm in the flashing club lights. “You’ve worn it too many times.”

“Hello to you, too,” Sirius said. “I like this shirt.”

“I liked it two months ago,” Saint replied. “It’s September now, your highness.”

Sirius scoffed as the bartender slid him his drink.

“You gonna tell everyone the sun did that?” Sirius took a clean sip of gin with one hand and stroked his other through Saint’s gold curls, only suddenly some of the slightly course strands were almost white.

Saint’s grin turned coy. “Isn’t it nice to have a mystery to think about?”

“Oh, yeah, do blonds have more fun?”

“You wouldn’t know.”

The music kicked up a beat that Sirius felt through his spine.

“Why do we always come here?” he leaned a hip against the bar. “We have an entire city.”

“Yeah, fuck the rest of the world, we have one whole city.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Saint shook his head. “Because that’s what we do. You see that guy over there? I’ve taken him out four times. Couldn’t tell you his name. They couldn’t tell you mine.”

“Everyone knows your name, Saint.”

Saint grinned. “Maybe. But why do we go back to each other? Because we’re creatures of fucking habit.” Saint cocked his head, stole Sirius’ drink. “And what is this city but a bad, bad habit?”

Sirius’ blood cooled and he looked away.

What am I, Sirius? said the familiar voice from his memory. Am I easy? Am I safe? Do you want me, or am I just familiar now?

He closed his eyes against the memory of his reply.

Bad habit indeed.

XOXO

Spotted—a familiar face from the past. What has this train brought in? Thanks to a tip from @magicinthemaking, I bring you this picture of none other than Remus Lupin (and a certain Southern bell we know and love) under Grand Central’s stars. We missed you, Re—how was England? Or was it Europe?

The rumors can never seem to decide, but why the sudden change in plans to take his Junior year abroad? Here we were thinking he wanted nothing more than to stay.

I wonder how another certain star will feel about this sudden homecoming. And just in time for senior year’s Fall semester, too.

XOXO.

Remus adjusted his suitcase, glad he’d mailed so many of his things home. He’d been on U.S. soil for all of three hours, and he already missed Rome. He wanted to walk down the tiny staircase from his billet family’s apartment and get a cappuccino. He wanted to stand on the drain of the Pantheon and soak up the sheer history in the air.

He already wanted a break.

But he also wanted to see Julian. Sometimes it felt like the only thing pulling him back home was seeing his baby brother’s grin in real life rather than across a Facetime call.

“All good?”

Remus looked up at Leo. His blond hair was still bleached a bright blond from the Roman sun. Their program had ended in May, but Remus was glad they had stayed together. He hadn’t been looking for Leo—for someone to kiss for the first time in the rose garden at the top of the Aventine Hill while Leo told him about its past as a cemetery.

It’s footpaths are laid out like a Minorah, see? Leo had pointed out. To remember. 300 different types of roses isn’t enough. But I like to come here.

Remus thought it had been Leo’s love for history, and his respect, too, that had drawn him in. They both came from a world where the biggest thing most people cared about was what they’d wear to the next party, and who was bringing their next drink.

Remus hadn’t been able to believe his luck, as fragile as his heart was still.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “All good.”

But he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t been friends here, in the city, or at Hogwarts. It had been Rome. Remus didn’t know what their old lives would do to them. But he took Leo’s hand and watched the way Leo fingered the star he wore around his neck, the way he shot Remus his dimpled smile.

“Come on,” Remus said. “I want you to meet Julian.”

XOXO

Good morning Upper East Siders—Gossip Girl here. All trends point to Fall’s Hogwartsers coming back in Black—in more ways than one. Sirius Black’s got a baby brother on campus now, and after another wild summer for the Hogwarts College elite, count me in with the rest of them on wondering what to expect. Rumor is he’s not much like our favorite star.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

Sirius kept his eyes on his eggs and toast. “Your missing your tie. Mom said—”

“What do you care?” Regulus replied. “I hear when she used to make you wear one it usually ended up around some other guy’s neck by ten in the morning.”

“If you’re going to believe everything you read on Gossip Girl about me, then maybe I won’t talk to you.”

Regulus smirked. “So, you read it, too.” 

“Boys.”

Both brothers went back to their breakfasts.

“Good morning, mom,” Sirius said.

Walburga Black smiled with her painted lips, resting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and bending to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t you both look handsome for your first day. Although that leather jacket has seen better days, Sirius. Do what you want for dinner, ask Chef, I don’t care. I’ll be at the House.”

The House. The House of Black, his mother’s million dollar fashion industry.

“Fine,” Regulus nodded, and rose. “I’ll take the first car.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. “Really?”

Regulus just snatched up his backpack.

Saint, James, and Thomas were waiting for him on one of the courtyard tables when Sirius got out of the Escalade. It certainly felt like a first day of a semester. Saint’s neck dripped in gold necklaces—a story behind each one. Thomas, who had replaced his short braids with a closely shaved head, wore a white t-shirt and ripped up jean shorts, gold nose-ring glinting in the sun. James had evidently been helped out by Lily, as usual, a green, tight-fitting Henley shirt bunched up at his elbows. The two flanked Saint, who basked on top of the stone table, head tilted back to bare his throat in a way that made Sirius think of last night, in the back of the bar. He could see a purplish mark he had left there.

“You’re looking surprisingly chipper,” James said when Sirius reached Hogwarts’ courtyard.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, knowing he didn’t. “I’m not failing any classes yet, James.”

His friends went oddly silent. Sirius looked around at them, spreading his hands in confusion. Saint wouldn’t look at him, expression going oddly stoney. Thomas, finally, offered him his phone, biting his lip. Sirius took it.

His heart leapt to his throat. He didn’t even bother reading the Instagram caption. Remus loomed out at him from the phone screen.

“Leo Knut,” Saint said. “Who would have thought.”

Sirius cleared his throat and turned away from the picture—from Remus and Leo’s clasped hands.

“Why wouldn’t I be chipper?” he said again, and ignored their unconvinced expressions. “I’ve got class.”

Under his desk while he waited for the rest of the class to show, Sirius pulled out his phone and opened Instagram.

XOXO

Remus approached campus slowly. He felt like he didn’t know anyone anymore, even if he knew that wasn’t true. He thought he saw James from afar, but Lily and Kasey didn’t have class today.

Really, Remus didn’t know if he had many friends that weren’t…shared. That didn’t feel too close to home. Manhattan wasn’t that big of an island.

He looked down at his schedule he’d written out on his phone.

The 19th Century Novel - Hogsmeade R#302.

He made his way to the Hogsmeade building and climbed the spiral staircase quickly. It all felt too industrial, too metallic. At least he’d woken up with Leo, who still had the ancient air about him. He didn’t want that bubble to pop.

“Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall beamed when he walked in, and Remus smiled, too at her familiar Scottish drawl. “It’s so very nice to have you back.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s good to be—”

But the words died on Remus’ tongue. He looked out at the small class—just twenty at this high level—and his heart, out of habit it seemed, had leapt at the sight of familiar dark hair.

Uh-oh. Looks like Pyramus and Thisbe are actually wishing for a wall between them this time.

Sirius’ hair was shorter than it had been at the end of sophomore year, the last time Remus had seen him. He wore a touch of a beard, too, just scruff, really, but it framed his silver eyes like darkness to the stars—two stars, which were zeroed in on Remus.

“Back,” Remus tried to recover, mouth dry. He sent McGonagall a shaky smile, and turned to find a seat, trying not to find those stars again.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes in defeat when he realized that there was only one left. He walked towards Sirius looking ahead and with his heart pounding. Leo. Leo making pancakes for him and Julian this morning. Leo making his little brother laugh. But he could smell the worn leather of Sirius’ jacket. He remembered the feel of it around his own shoulders. Are you cold, baby?

“All righty, then,” McGonagall stood from her chair and leaned against the front of her desk, looking down her spectacles at the attendance sheet. “Looks like we’re all here.”

XOXO

“Well?” Saint asked as Sirius took the joint from between his fingers.

“Sat down next to me,” Sirius said. “Didn’t say a fucking word.”

“Did you say a fucking word?” Saint raised his eyebrows.

Sirius blew out smoke. “No.”

“Well, all right, you fucking hypocrite.”

Sirius looked over at him from where they lay side by side, stretched out in the fading sunshine of Central Park. “I’m keeping this now.”

“No, you’re not. Did you pay for that? I don’t think so.”

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, like this made a dent in the Montague treasuries.”

Saint laughed, tucking a palm behind his head. Sirius let his eyes linger on the strip of skin where his shirt rode up. He’d kissed that last night, too. It was nice with Saint. He’d been friends with him for longer than he could remember. Saint never looked for more. If Sirius snapped at him, he snapped back and then they laughed about it. Saint wandered through the world loving people freely. He kissed them, or he made them dinner, or he took them for long walks along the river. He showed them his favorite jazz club, or gave them the orgasm of their life, or read to them from his favorite books. He was New York in human form, accepting and inviting, living and breathing.

Sirius wished he was so trusting, even if trust seemed a funny word to apply to Saint.

No one ever got too close to either of them, except the other.

“What are you wearing to your mom’s fashion show?” Saint asked with his eyes closed. “It’s the event of the season.”

“Are you joking? The fittings started in July.”

“Mm, I love that,” Saint grinned, stretching. “Want to come help me decide what I’m wearing? We’re at the Plaza right now, you know that. You know my mother. If it’s not broken, break it. We’re renovating again. We can order champagne to the room.”

“Is that code for make out?”

“Partly. But I will be showing you my outfit choices.”

“Deal.”

XOXO

Remus made it back home seeing no one, but one of the butlers had an envelope with his name on it waiting for him.

“Thanks, Moody,” Remus murmured, but thought briefly about handing it right back to him.

He knew this invitation. He knew its black boarders and heavy stock. It came ever year.

It used to be something they had looked forward to.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

invites you

TOUJOURS PUR

“Jesus,” Remus breathed, but took it up to his room, checking the time on the way. Julian would still be at school, his parents at work. This apartment was too big for the four of them, not to mention just Remus alone.

His suitcases still lay open and unpacked on his floor, and he kicked at one without looking up.

“So, did you just forget to mention that you were home?”

Remus spun towards his bed, only to find Lily sprawled across it and fiddling with an emerald on a chain.

“I had to find out from Gossip Girl?” Lily shook her head.

Remus slapped the invitation against his thigh. “Wow, wasn’t like that was a surprise present for you or anything.”

Lily smiled, red hair in a thick french braid. “I see green and I know it’s for me. What can I say?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, and she gave a small squeal and pushed off of the bed to wrap him in a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Re.”

He let himself rest his chin in the crook of her neck for a moment. ‘Thanks, Lils.”

She pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “What, no, me too?”

“I am,” he said tentatively. “But I had fun in Rome.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Southern fun?”

“His name is Leo,” Remus said pointedly, then eyed the pile of garment bags piled high on the other side of his bed. “Are those…”

“Pour moi, et pour toi,” Lily patted his cheek. “We have a fashion show to go to, sweetheart.”

XOXO

What do we think, Courtiers? House of Black’s fashion show is the biggest event of the fall. But what on Earth does doe-eyed Remus Lupin have to do within that dark forest now?

Is he a Bambi, or still the wolf we knew?

You know you love me.

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

[peaceteaa11]

Love Luna

PART FOUR

Read parts one, two, and three

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OC Byers

Rating: clean with some cussing

Warnings: TW!!!!!! Vomiting, Drunk, Drinking, dramatics, jason carver, and Eddie being the sweetest bean (be prepared for heart palpitations)

Summary: Luna and Robin convince Steve to get them into a party because Luna wants to get Eddie off her mind as quick as possible. However, alcohol and feelings should never mix. Through a blurry night Luna finds herself alone with Eddie.

A/N: GAH!!! I know this took forever for me to posts! I'm so sorry! BUT I am back in college now and I simply took on too many responsibilities so chapters will be coming out slower and I apologize. I hope you lovely gremlins can be patient because I really love all the support! My Rockstar will be coming out sometime this week followed by a oneshot request that has been in my drafts for quite some time. I ONLY PROOF READ ONCE THERE WILL BE MISTAKES.

Word Count: 3k

Eddie Munson Masterlist

***I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE RIGHTS TO THE STRANGER THINGS CHARACTERS IN THIS FIC. I ONLY OWN OCS I HAVE CREATED SUCH AS LUNA.***

Shots! Shots! Shots! *wild party music with hair flipping*

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"All I'm saying is that it is weird that he would just... break in! That's creepy!" Steve mumbles as the school lunch's dry corn bread crumbs tumble out of his mouth. I squint disgusted by his mannerisms.

"Didn't you try to do the same thing to Nancy in like sophomore year?" Robin scoffs a bit and Steve turns dramatically to look at her from beside her at the lunch table.

"I was being romantic!" Steve pokes Robin on her shoulder roughly and she shrugs.

"Maybe Eddie was being romantic." Robins suggests before looking back over to me.

"It was... I'm gonna be honest... it was kinda cute until he went all crazy on me. With his whole I'm not good for you act." I roll my eyes and let my head fall into my hands. "God, why am I crushing on him so hard! I don't even know him." I groan loudly causing Steve and Robin to laugh.

“Well. You know what they say around town…” Robin begins causing me to slowly lift my head and lazily look at her. “Munson is totally a cult leader. Maybe he pull you under his spell.” Her voice is deep and wavy as she wiggles her fingers in front of her. “OooOoOooOoo.” She giggles as I roll my eyes and Steve laughs.

“Oh shut up.” I huff at the two of them. “The only cult Eddie is leading is a cult of nerds who are obsessed with fantasy.” I roll my eyes and glance over to the Hellfire table where Eddie and all his friends are laughing as Eddie gestures wildly with his ring-clad hands. Bracelets peaking out from his leather jacket.

“Mmm. Then you’ll fit right in.” Steve chuckles. I glance back over at them and they are still laughing.

“Shut up.” I mumble as I let my mind drift to the fantasy of me getting to spend time with Eddie. Maybe joining hellfire would be fun.

“Aweeeee. Look she’s blushing.” Robins voice rips me from my daydream. I look to her but then Steve pipes up.

"Ahhh, young love." Steve chuckles and I snap my attention to him. Glaring through my lashes.

"Steve. You're literally a month older than me and this it not LOVE it is just a simple crush." I shake my head.

“I thought you didn’t get crushes.” Robin teases a bit and shoves more bread into her mouth, obviously not buying my little white lie.

The noise of the cafeteria echoes around us giving me a giant headache, which gives me an idea. My eyes widen and connect with Steve's. He immediately glares at me in suspicion.

"Oh no. What are you thinking? You've got that stupid little plotting face on." Steve squints at me.

"Hey! I do not have a plotting face... what does that even mean?" I scoff causing Steve to roll his eyes so harshly I'm afraid they may get stuck in the back of his head.

"It's! It's that face! Robin, you know the face!" Steve looks to Robin who is mid-bite. Her eyes widen at him and she shrugs. "Oh. I see how it is. Make the man seem stupid! I get it! You two are ridiculous. I know what I'm talking about. You have a face!" Steve groans loudly, pushing his hands through his perfect hair.

"Ah yes, she does indeed have one of those. Genius observation, Harrington." Robin mumbles wiping her mouth on her sleeve and sending me a goofy smirk.

"Ya know what I don't care what you two-"

"Right. What were you plotting?" Robin cuts Steve off, turning her attention to me while Steve scoffs muttering about how I do indeed have a plotting face.

"Right. Well, I would like to get wasted tonight." I smirk at the two of them. Steve looks worried but Robin's eyes light up.

"Oooo yes! Great news because I heard Gina Mells in having a party tonight! And even better news… Gina totally has a crush on the one and only Steve Harrington! Therefore,” Robin turns to Steve with a wide smirk on her lips, “you can totally get us on the list.” She raised her eyebrows and Steve instantly starts to shake his head.

"No." He says as if it's definitive. Robin and I share a look before both staring at Steve once more. "No. I- No! I said not. Absolutely not! I-"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this." Steve grumbles tugging on his t-shirt roughly.

"Stop fussing. You look fine." Robin scoffs bumping her shoulder into his. Steve pulls away from her bumping into me. I stumble a bit as he mutters an apology.

"I never said I didn't look good, Robin." Steve squints.

"Oh, right... that must have been in my head." She chuckles, throwing her head back as Steve stops in his tracks. We continue to walk and only glance over our shoulders at Steve. In total mom fashion he has his hands on his hips as he glares at our receding figures approaching the house.

"Oh! Reeeeealllll mature, Robin." He groans and only begins to jog up to us when Jason's jeep whips into the drive, nearly crushing him. I gasp a bit at the closeness but Robin crosses her arms over her chest.

"You should keep up, Harrington." She smirks and makes her way up the stares of Gina Mells' house, though house was putting it modestly, very modestly.

"Ya know, Robin one day I'm actually going ot get hit by a car and you'll be sorry. See who's laughing then huh." Steve says with his usual charm as he finally catches up as we cross the threshold into a rowdy house.

"I agree with half of your statement. You getting hit by a car would simply not be shocking and therefore I shall not be sorry. Let's got get some drinks." Robin laughs grabbing Steve's hand as he continues to bicker with her.

In the kitchen Steve is basically swarmed by girls as Robin and I make a B-line for the alcohol. Messily Robin pours a generous shot of vodka into two solo cups. "Here's to forgetting about those losers." She goes to cheers my cup but I hesitate causing her face to scrunch with worry. "What's wro-"

"You really shouldn't talk about Steve that way, it'll hurt his feelings." I smirk at her. She bursts into a fit of laughter.

"Right. Right. Who am I to challenge the cool factor that is Steve, the hair, Harrington?" Robin says raising her brows playfully. We laugh for a bit until Steve stumbles into us.

"I need a drink if I am going to survive this." He groans grabbing a cup, Robin automatically going to pour him a shot as well. "Jeez Robin. You trying to kill me?"

"I'm being nice, Steve." She teases, swirling his name. He rolls his eyes.

"Okay okay. Let's do this." I say as confidently as I possibly can. We all clash our red plastic cups together before throwing our head back. It burns as it goes down my throat. I want to vomit immediately but I fight to keep it down.

Eddie's face pops into my head as the hot liquid settles in my stomach. I internally scorn myself. Why does he have such a hold on me? This is so stupid. Quickly I down another shot while Robin and Steve cheer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few too many shots later I find myself stumbling up Gina's stairs. My mind clouded but so full and chaotic it felt as if it would explode at any moment. I groan as I yank open a door to a room that has obviously never been touched since they moved into this place back in seventh grade. I step into the room, slamming the door behind me. There was nothing but a few dusty chairs that looked as if they belonged in a Jane Austen novel.

I flop into a pink floral one and it squishes beneath my weight. It's quite the comfy chair. Too bad I may vomit on it later. I shift a bit when suddenly the door the room cracks open and a skinny male figure squeezes in. He turns toward me but jumps as he does so.

"Holy shit. Byers! You scared the shit out of me." Eddie's voice shakes a bit and he stumbles back into the door causing it to click shut.

"Mmm. You didn't scare me. I had the advantage. Saw ya' slip in here like some sort of creep." I stumble through my words and Eddie chuckles.

"You're so fucked." He smiles, now leaning comfortably against the door. The room dark, street lamps shine through a window providing only a sliver of light for me to try and see Eddie's face. And those beautiful eyes. Lost in my thoughts I don't even realize I'm replying.

"Ha. I wish." A hot blush mixing with the alcohol as Eddie stiffens agains the doorframe. "Oh god. I don't know why I said that." My hands cover my face as I try to hide away from his sight.

"...So you found my throne room." He smirks walking closer before plopping down in the chair directly across from me. Staring into my eyes with his big brown doe eyes. Was he really just going to ignore what I said?

"You're throne room? You keep pink frilly chair in your throne room?" I smirk teasing him and for a moment I swear I see his cheek tint pink, but it's too dark to tell. He shifts a bit in his chair and lets out a breathy laugh.

"It's for my queen." He sighs. "Obviously." He smiles sweetly but I feel my stomach drop churning the alcohol within.

"I'm gonna be sick." I mutter and Eddie chuckles nervously.

"Okay... I know it was cheesy but-"

"No. I'm actually gonna be sick." I groan and hop up from his queen's throne. I rush to the door and out into the upstair hall. I suck in a deep breath trying to estimate if I could make it downstairs and outside in time. While I may make jokes, I'm not one to puke my guts out inside someone else's house.

"Luna, com'ere." I feel Eddie's rings on my back guiding me into the a room a two doors down. A bathroom. He gently helps me to the toilet and instantly I'm puking my guts out. How fucking embarrassing is that? Puking in front of your crush, who has already made it obviously that it's not gonna happen. "God. How much did you drink?" His voice isn't harsh or judgmental, just soft. He squats next to the toilet as I wretch once more.

I sit up and wipe my mouth as I reach my other hand up to yank on the toilet handle. Eddie releases a soft, sympathetic chuckle. "Rough night?" He smiles as I turn my head to face him. My arms resting on the toilet seat once again.

"Please leave."

"What?" His smile drops and his brows waste no time knitting together.

"I'm gonna be sick again... soon. Please. Just leave, Eddie." I groan feeling a second round of puke working its way up my throat.

"I've seen plenty of drunk people throw up before Luna. It's fine." He says softly.

"No. I don't want you to see." I quickly turn my head back to the toilet and start to empty my stomach once again.

"Mmm. Too late, darling." He chuckles as he gathers the hair from my shoulders pulling it back from face, holding it in a ponytail while his other hand rubs gentle circle on my back. “Yup. There ya go.” He encourages me as I wretch one last time. Heaving I slowly lift my head out of the toilet bowl and flush it. I start to sit all the way up causing his hands to fall away from both my hair and back. His warm touch fades quickly from my skin. As my hair falls back around my face he quickly tucks it behind my ears and smiles as he uses a piece of toilet paper to wipe my mouth.

I stare at him silently while he stares at my lips. It’d be kinda romantic if he wasn’t wiping away vomit. I shutter just remembering the reality of the situation. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I pull back from his cleaning. I gently grab the tissue from his hand and sigh. His movements stutter for a moment before he sits back, leaning against the cool surface of the tub. I roughly wipe my mouth and sigh. I look down into my lap. I feel prickly sensation of tears building in my eyes. Threatening to spill over and down to my lap.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, Luna. Really. I’ve dealt with this more times than you can think.” He pushes a forced laugh from his throat. It’s hollow and yet I can sense there is more behind it. I shake my head, my vision blurring.

“I’m not usually l-like this. I don’t. I don’t do this.” I whimper. I can feel Eddie’s feet hit my knees as he adjusts his position.

“Well… what made miss Luna Byers go on a vomit inducing bender tonight?” He chuckles. His laugh is sweet, pure, it brings warmth to my chest. I quickly lift my head, tears teetering on the edge. “Luna.” His laugh disappears. The smile drops from his lips. His brows knit together. “What… what’s wrong. Please don’t cry.” His hand finding its way to my knee, the last straw. Tears rush down my cheeks. “Luna… what-“

“YOU! You’re why!” I croak.

“What?” His pulls his hand from my knee and sit up straighter. Searching my eyes frantically.

“You. Ever since you gave me that ride home. It’s you. Your hair, your face, your hands, your smile, your lips! The way you smell! It’s you! I can’t get you out of my freaking head and it’s driving me crazy because you're on some hero’s journey to protect a reputation that I don’t even want! I don’t care! I don’t CARE that I’m 'well liked' around school! I don’t CARE that people saw me in your jacket! I don’t CARE that people think you’re in a cult! I DON'T CARE! You’re the one who cares so goddamn much! It’s driving me crazy! Instead of getting to know the guy I like he’s on a psychopathic mission to push me away! And you know what!? I might actually believe you’re in some sort of a cult, maybe you're a sorcerer because for some reason I can get you out of my head. You… you…” my words slow along with my tears at Eddie stares at me with a wide smile. Goofy and fun. “Witch…” I finish. All he does is stare. Eyes scanning my face. “What are you-“

“The guy you like? You like me?” Eddie whispers kindly as his hand finds its way to my knee once again.

“That’s all you got from that?!” I scoff half joking half serious. I just spilled my guts (both emotionally and physically) and all he got was that I like him?

Holy shit.

I just told him I like him. I'm too drunk. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Please. Say it again. I gotta be sure.” Eddie leans his head down to my level. Eyes locked with mine. And what can I say? Something about those big doe eyes break me.

“Yes. I… I-I like you. Or at least what I know so far. I wanted to get to know more but you went all…” I clear my throat and sit up straight. Putting on my best dad voice and point my finger at him. “You gotta stay away from me Luna. I’m bad for you and you-“

“Can I kiss you?” He blurts out his checks warm into a deep pink. His pale skin coming alive. My face drops and my own voice returns.

“I just threw up. That’s gross.” I breath out. Nervous.

“I don’t care. I wanna kiss you.” He grins widely.

“Eddie.” I groan disgusted by his suggestion. “My breath-“

“I don’t care!” He chuckles and leans toward me but quickly my hand slaps over his mouth. He looks up at my with wide but amused eyes.

“Not like this. Please? I don’t want our first kiss to be vomit flavored.” I smile at him as I feel his lips tug into a grin against my palm.

“Mm smo mhere hill be uh mish?” He chuckles against my palm before licking a wet strip across the kiss.

“Ew! Eddie!” I giggle and lean away wiping my hand on my jeans. “You’re a freak!” I shake my head and our eyes connect once more. Tender and sweet films cover us both.

“Well, yes. But you like it. Right?” His confidence falters towards the end of the statement. I shrug.

“Meh. It’s alright.” I smirk and instantly he catches on. Our laughter fills the bathroom. “I missed all of your pre lick comment.” I hum.

Eddie grins brightly. “I said… So, there will be a kiss?” He blush again. His fingers finding their way to his hair. Twirling with anxiety.

“Mmm. Maybe. You’ll have to stick around…”

“I-I can… I can do that.” He stutters as his eyes rake across my body.

“Mmm. And you’ll have to hangout with my friends. Including Steve.” I hum happily.

“Woah hold on I-“

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Okay here ya go. Just some fluff. Pure innocent, drunk fluff. You're welcome. Again. Sorry it took so long and it's not my best work but college is my main priority atm. With that being said, ya girl just got hurt by an actual guy sooooo she will be retreating into the comfort of fictional men again. AKA more fics will be building up in my drafts and I'll post them when I can. The next thing that's gonna be out is gonna be My Rockstar and then a requested oneshot! I feel so bad. This request has been in my drafts for a hot moment so it will be out by next week!

taglist - @iwillbiteabitch @and-claudia @ruinedbythehobbit @luvmybbies @wannabeyousobad @llodinsonll @tlclick73 @i-love-ptv @mischiefmanagers

[likeshipsonthesea]

I don’t know if you take requests for nurseydex fics... but if you do the song “omg did she call him baby” by Beth McCarthy screams a heartbroken Nursey when Dex has a girlfriend

i like really can’t do genuine heartbreak but i CAN do angst that ends happy, so here’s my best shot :)

Nursey’s got a red Solo cup in one hand and a plastic champagne flute in the other and it’s sometime after three but before five and he is definitely not thinking about her or him or them together when he looks up between one sip and another to see the telltale blue hair reflecting the murky spotlights of the basement.

Nursey squints. He could be making things up--his brain is nice like that-- but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. She’s got very distinctive hair, Dex’s--girlfriend. It’d been rather disappointing, actually, the blue hair. The whole thing had been easier to deal with when he’d been picturing some light-haired brunette going for an economics degree who smiled like a mom at soccer practice. Someone who Nursey could reasonably dislike on grounds of, like, predictability.

But no, Dex had to bring home a blue-haired physics major with a nose ring and good taste in music and the ability to out-argue Shitty while polishing off Bitty’s pie, i.e. perfect. Even Lardo couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t awesome for Nursey’s sake. Even Nursey can’t pretend like Amanda isn’t awesome for his own sake. She’s just so--so--

Nursey squints.

So-- making out with some random girl in a blouse at a frat party.

What the fuck.

Nursey is about two margaritas and three years too deep to be dealing with the emotional ramifications of catching the girlfriend of his best friend (who he’s also kind of sort of possibly maybe totally in love with) macking on some consultant for Goldman Sachs or some shit in the basement of arguably one of the worst frats at Samwell. This one doesn’t even have good music, Nursey’s only here to get drunk without the possibility of Dex calling Nursey Patrol and helping Nursey up the stairs and saying nothing about the poetry Nursey spills or the way his hands linger.

(Fuck does Nursey hate Nursey Patrol, fuck does he hate how much he loves it.)

Nursey downs the rest of the champagne flute--which was probably mostly orange juice at this point anyway-- and hands the red Solo cup to a freshman gearing himself up to talk to a cute boy a few feet away and then Nursey gets the fuck out of dodge. He manages to get a better look at the corporate recruiter Amanda is cheating on Dex with (and really, if you’re going to cheat on Dex, you’re really going to pick a chick in a blouse that probably has opinions on the stock market???) and if he hadn’t been sure before, the distinctive tattoo on Amanda’s shoulder proves that it’s really her.

(“Tattoos? Tattoos? I have tattoos.” “I know you do, Nurse.” “They’re really nice tattoos.” “I know they are, Nurse.”)

Emerging from the basement and then the frat house itself is instantly sobering. The chill from winter hasn’t quite left the air at night and Nursey wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t think about how Dex chirped him about not wearing a coat before he’d left. The frat isn’t far away from the Haus, thank god, but it is slightly farther when he turns left instead of right and then has to a backtrack a bit, but he still gets back in under ten minutes and he can still feel his hands, so overall, a win.

Attempting to get into the Haus quietly is a lost cause, given its one thousand year old floor and the fact that a ladybug could fart in the kitchen and wake up the guys in the attic. Still, Nursey gives it the good college try, which is why he’s creeping ridiculously through the living room when the light turns on suddenly and he screams, much to the amusement of Dex, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck, dude, what the fuck.”

Dex just smirks in that horribly attractive way of his. “How was the Psi-U basement?”

Nursey thinks of blue hair, washed out in the lights, Amanda’s hand on that girl’s cheek, the way Dex smiles when he’s around her. “Fine,” Nursey says, swaying.

The amusement falters and Nursey wishes he could figure out a way to keep the smile on Dex’s face the way Amanda does. Dex takes a step closer. “Are you alright?”

Nursey shakes his head violently and takes a step back, a step farther away. This is the part where he says yes, yes of course Dexy-darling, I’m right as rain, what about you? This is the part where Dex rolls his eyes and loops his arm around Nursey’s waist, his warm side pressed into Nursey’s. The part where they go upstairs, where Nursey writes his best poetry that he’s too embarrassed to write down when he’s sober, where Dex tells him to sleep well and lingers outside the doorway long enough for Nursey’s breathing to slow and then the floor creaks and Nursey knows he’s gone and wishes he’d held on just a little bit longer--

“Nursey, what’s wrong?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He means to say nothing, he means to say, I’m going to bed, he means to-- “Amanda, she--”

The concern turns to alarm. Why can’t Nursey ever make it better? “Is she alright? Did you see her? Is she okay?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “She’s fine, she--she--” He swallows, and it’s sticky, cloying, citrusy and sweet on the back of his tongue. “She--there was this girl, she-- Amanda, she--”

Dex won’t stop frowning, concern knitting his eyebrows together with three short wrinkles, and Nursey has wanted to smooth them out with his fingertips every time he sees them since sophomore year, and he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be telling Dex this while he’s drunk, shouldn’t be telling Dex this at all, but he’s Nursey’s friend first and Nursey has to believe he’d tell Dex regardless of the love thing, he must--

“She was kissing some girl. In the Psi-U basement.”

The wrinkles smooth out. The amusement returns. Nursey--he can’t make sense of it over the ringing in his ears. Why is Dex smiling? Did--did Nursey do that?

“Did she look like a lawyer?” he asks, and at Nursey’s confusion clarifies, “The girl Amanda was kissing. Did she look like a lawyer?” Nursey nods dumbly. Dex’s smile only grows. Nursey is so, so confused and also more in love than he’s ever been. “Finally. I just won fifty bucks.”

What the fuck. “What the fuck.”

Dex laughs--laughs. “The girl’s name is Tammy. She graduated last year and moved to Boston. Amanda’s been in love with her forever, and I bet her that she’d get with Tammy before I--” Flush appears high on Dex’s cheeks, the soft pink one that means embarrassment and Nursey imagines would taste like cherry pie against his lips.

Nursey is--still quite a bit drunk. He needs--clarification. “You--you bet your girlfriend that she would get with her friend at a frat party?”

Dex’s nose scrunches up in Nursey’s favorite way--the same way it does when he’s trying to write humanities essays, the reason Nursey always says yes when Dex asks for help. “Girlfriend? Did you think Amanda was my girlfriend?”

Nursey remembers the start, hearing about Amanda every other day, then every day, then it was, sorry I can’t come, I’m meeting Amanda at-- and then one day at Annie’s, a girl with blue hair and a sharp grin yelled Babe! from across the room and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder, sipping from his coffee cup, getting him to smile like that--

“Well, yeah.” Nursey’s head is spinning and, for the first time tonight, not from the gin. “Is she--is she not?”

“Oh God, no, she’s so fucking gay, dude.” Laughter twinkles in Dex’s eyes. Nursey is drunker than he’s been since freshmen year of high school when Shitty snuck in some of his dad’s hard liquor and the janitors found them on the roof singing Disney songs at the moon. Dex’s girlfriend is gay. Dex’s girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend. Dex is--is smiling at him like he smiles at his girlfriend who isn’t his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Nursey says, dazed, “chill.”

“Oh wow,” Dex grins, leaning into the doorframe, “I can’t believe you thought--and you thought telling me my girlfriend was cheating on me at 3am while shit-drunk was a good idea?”

Nursey says, “Hey, honesty is important, and I’m not--” He stops. He remembers something. He squints. “Wait. If you bet 50 bucks on Amanda getting with Tammy, who did Amanda bet you would get with?”

The cherry pie blush is back. Nursey takes an absent-minded step forward. The room feels so much lighter now that Dex’s girlfriend isn’t cheating on him. The distance between them feels so much sillier now that Dex doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“Ah, well.” Dex rubs at the back of his neck, all country bumpkin sheepish to ask his sweetheart to the dance, and--and--

“I’m the sweetheart,” Nursey realizes with the kind of crystal clarity only afforded by the most copious amounts of alcohol.

Dex’s eyebrows furrow, those sweet little wrinkles appearing between them, and Nursey takes two long strides forward and presses his thumb into them. Dex goes cross-eyed trying to watch, but moves his eyes to meet Nursey’s after a moment.

Nursey grins, likely a bit sloppy from the gin, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “I’m the sweetheart,” he repeats, beaming.

Dex tries to repress the smile at his lips. “You’re not a sweetheart.”

“Yes I am,” Nursey sings, listing forwards. “You like me.”

“You’re an asshole.” Dex’s smile grows. Nursey watches its progress and sways.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he says, tracking the pink lips as they spread, revealing teeth and--and tongue and--

“I hate that you can still say mutually exclusive when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. See, I’ll prove it.”

“How do you plan on--”

If Dex’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied, he might say that the taste on Nursey’s tongue is a good indication that he is in fact fairly tipsy, but as it is--well. He’s got other things to do.

(Amanda asserts that they tied since it happened on the same night and only pays $25. Tammy throws in five more and a condom and they call it even. Nursey kisses away Dex’s protest and pockets the condom, much to Amanda’s amusement. Turns out, she’s even cooler when she isn’t dating the love of Nursey’s life.)

[neonponders]

This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful) 

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day. 

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing - 

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already - 

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed - 

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year. 

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center. 

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour. 

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex. 

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack. 

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen. 

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus. 

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little. 

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks. 

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks. 

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough. 

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon. 

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly. 

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol. 

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well. 

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater. 

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile. 

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration. 

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties. 

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost. 

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking. 

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session. 

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. 

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies. 

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended. 

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology. 

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean. 

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired. 

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!” 

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study. 

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble. 

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student. 

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it. 

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale. 

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now. 

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown. 

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier. 

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table. 

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed. 

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah. 

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli. 

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to. 

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth. 

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check. 

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes. 

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years. 

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door. 

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is. 

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life. 

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do. 

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine. 

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you. 

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison. 

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask. 

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades. 

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks. 

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway. 

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo. 

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion. 

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it. 

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center. 

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post. 

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth. 

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch. 

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off. 

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep. 

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity. 

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side. 

God. 

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end. 

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Sighing, you pick up. 

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you. 

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly. 

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them. 

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you. 

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday. 

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts. 

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud. 

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing. 

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans. 

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them. 

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests. 

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you. 

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not. 

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin. 

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer. 

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet. 

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting. 

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different. 

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place. 

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door. 

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true. 

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight. 

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance. 

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why. 

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters. 

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with. 

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once. 

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not. 

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door. 

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense. 

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did. 

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster. 

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure. 

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him. 

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it. 

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores. 

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him. 

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it. 

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay. 

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. 

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him. 

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink. 

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you. 

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason. 

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away. 

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot. 

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough. 

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway. 

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone. 

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life. 

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there. 

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments. 

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her. 

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say. 

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire. 

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business. 

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents. 

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner. 

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive. 

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him. 

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen. 

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner. 

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun. 

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot. 

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach. 

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide. 

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back. 

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns. 

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook. 

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.” 

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on. 

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook. 

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all. 

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you. 

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either. 

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other. 

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

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[study-coffee-chicago]

Country College (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine; Part of AU-gust)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I'm also donating all the proceeds that from my buy me a coffee account to Save The Children to help the children of Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee link here.

Also, here's the playlist of songs I listened to while writing this and some of these songs are actually mentioned in the imagine in case you guys wanted to listen while reading: Country College AU playlist.

I went on vacation and I swear, this entire imagine was based on stuff I did in Tennessee and country songs I listened to while there.

Anyway, enjoy!

"You got everything?" Jay asked you at six in the morning.

"For the last damn time, Jay, yes, I have everything," you answered as you jumped in the passenger seat of his truck and put your backpack at your feet and your tumbler of coffee in a cup holder.

"Jesus. I was just asking because I will not be turning this truck around," he said as he moved around the basket of snacks in the backseat so that the two of you could reach them easier. "Someone's cranky."

"Yes. When I finally got to sleep at 12:30 last night and had to wake up at 4:30, I'm gonna be cranky. Please tell me we're stopping for coffee."

"You already have coffee," Will said as he walked up to the truck. "Why do you need more?"

"Shut up. I know for a fact you drink way more coffee than I do, Mr. Med Student."

"Jesus, Jay. You sure you're gonna be able to put up with her for eight and a half hours?" Will asked.

"I dunno, man. Maybe I'll make her ride with you," he joked.

"Yeah, no way in hell that's happening," Will said.

"In all seriousness," Jay started, "stop for coffee in about an hour and a half?"

"Sounds good to me," you agreed.

"Same here. I only have to ditch you guys when we get like eight hours in," Will said.

"Gonna be weird not having you on the drive down, man," Jay mused.

"Yeah, but at least we can meet up at the rest stops and we'll  be in the same state."

"Are we gonna go?" you asked. "If you two were just gonna talk, I could've slept for an extra ten minutes."

"Holy shit," Jay muttered. He turned to Will. "Guess we should get going then."

"Yeah, see you in an hour and a half. Don't piss off the driver too much, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes. "Goodbye, Will."

Will got in his car and Jay got in the driver's side of his truck.

"Eight and a half hour drive plus traffic," Jay started as you both pulled out of the driveway, "so how do want to split it up?"

"I'm tired and I wanna sleep and I don't want to drive through Knoxville because I have no idea where to go," you answered as you pulled your headphones out of your backpack.

"Okay, Miss Sassy Pants. You can drive in the middle, through Kentucky. Might hit traffic, but we'll hit traffic in Tennessee, too, so we'll both have to drive through it. Just please, do not crash my truck."

"Relax. I know how to drive. Just make sure Will stays on your ass the entire time so we don't lose each other."

***

"And, we're officially in Kentucky!" Jay announced. "Time to change the music. At the next rest stop, we'll pull over and go to the bathroom and grab some lunch."

"Jay! You can't be on your phone while you're driving!" you yelled as he reached for his phone in the cup holder, which was also acting as the GPS...even though Jay claimed he could get there without it.

"Y/N, I'm fine. I've done this for three years now. I think I know what I'm doing."

"If you say so."

He turned on a song you didn't know.

"Got a truck, get it lifted," Jay started to sing.

"The hell is this?" you asked.

"Country music. Gets changed from pop to country the second we cross the border into Kentucky. Now, shh. This is a good song. You'll like it. It's upbeat."

Jay drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sang quietly to Redneck Be Like by Thomas Rhett as he drove while you listened. He was right. It was a pretty good song.

"All day in the sun, always havin' fun, always gettin' stuck in that muddy river. Always got a buzz, always double cup..."

"You'll know the next one," Jay promised.

"And you know this how?" you asked.

"Because it's on Tiktok. When we get there, Adam and Hailey are gonna have to teach you some southern culture."

"So, I'm gonna need a definition of southern culture."

"You'll see when you get there. Now listen. I know you know this part."

Yeah we fancy like Applebee's...

Jay was right: you did know this song. It was Fancy Like by Walker Hayes.

"On a date night," you sang along. "Got that Bourbon street steak..." Jay joined in. "With the Oreo shake. Get some whipped cream on the top, too. Two straws, one check, girl I got you. Yeah we Bougie like Natty in the styrofoam..."

Five minutes later, you pulled off to a rest stop with a McDonald's nearby. Jay and Will filled up their vehicles while you ran inside to go to the bathroom. Once you were inside McDonald's and at a table eating, you asked Will if it was true that he and Jay always changed it to country music when they crossed the border into Kentucky. Will said yes, so you knew you were in for a long car ride. Then, you and Jay switched so that you were now the one driving and you were off again.

***

Hours later, Will took a different exit to get to Nashville and gave you and Jay a salute to tell you goodbye when he changed lanes and then took the exit.

"Not long now," Jay told you. "You excited?"

"Yeah, but a little nervous," you replied.

"Oh, don't be nervous. They're all really nice. And you've already met Hailey, so that helps."

"Yeah, she was nice. She had a cute little southern accent, too."

"One of the many reasons I fell in love with her in the first place."

Before Jay left for a weekend last summer to meet Hailey halfway and then stay in a hotel for a weekend to spend time with her, he finally told you the story of how he and Hailey met.

"Hey, we're goin' to the marketplace," Adam said on the first weekend of their junior year. "You and Will up for it?"

"Uh, Will's studying like normal. I'm up for it. Kim coming, too?" Jay asked.

"I promised her ice cream, so yeah, she's comin'. Baby, you ready?" he yelled down the hall.

"I'm coming, Adam!" Kim yelled back and then walked out of the bathroom.

"Let's go and make some bad decisions," Adam stated, causing Jay and Kim to laugh.

"We can't even buy alcohol yet, you dummy," Kim said.

"I may be a dummy, but you love me." Then, Adam gave Kim a kiss on the cheek.

"Please stop before I puke," Jay said and made a gagging face.

Adam rolled his eyes. "Let's get outta here."

***

Kim was laughing at a horrible joke Adam made while he had his arm slung around him. He had taken off his signature cowboy hat and had let Kim wear it because she forgot her sunglasses. Adam said he felt naked without it on.

They were walking towards Kilwin's when Jay spotted it: a homeless guy next to a blonde who couldn't be more than college age.

"Man, look," Jay pointed.

The three walked faster.

"No, this is for my friend back at the dorm," the girl explained.

"Lady, I'm hungry. Can I please just have your leftovers?" the guy asked.

"I'm sorry you're hungry, but this is for my friend."

The guy reached for the food.

"Hey, that girl sits behind me in my women and the law class," Kim stated.

Jay, Adam, and Kim took off on a run.

"Hey, baby," Jay said and slung an arm around the girl. He leaned in close to her. "Just go with it," he whispered in her ear. "You got Anna's food?"

"Yeah," the girl said hesitantly. But then, she realized that this guy was trying to help her out. And, he was pretty sure that the girl with him sat in front of her in her women and the law class. "Yeah, I've got her food."

Jay raised an eyebrow at the guy and then looked at Adam as if asking the man to try the two of them.

"Alright, well y'all have a good night now," he said and then turned around and walked away.

Once the man was a few shops down, Jay took his arm off of her. "Sorry about that. Just thought you might need some help," he said.

"Was greatly appreciated, thank you, uh..."

"Jay."

"Jay, well I'm Hailey. Nice to meet you."

He didn't miss her cute little southern accent and he loved it.

"You getting ice cream?" he asked.

"No, I uh was just textin' my roommate to tell her I'd be back soon."

"Well, I-- we'd feel much better if you came into Kilwin's with us. Just so that creeper doesn't come back."

Hailey smiled and agreed.

Kim and Hailey started talking about their class while Adam and Jay ordered their ice cream. Then Kim ordered.

"You want anything, Hailey?" Jay asked.

"Oh no, I'm fine, thank you, though."

Jay nodded, but then turned to the worker. "And can I also get a single scoop of chocolate in a waffle cone, please?"

"Sure thing." As she scooped it out, Hailey looked at Jay and he just shrugged.

When they got to the cashier, Hailey pulled out some money and tried to hand it to Jay.

"I've got it," he said.

"But--"

"Hailey, it's fine. I can pay for a little ice cream."

She loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

"Okay." She took her ice cream cone.

"Hey, Hailey," Kim began when they walked out of Kilwin's. "Do you have friends you need to meet up with?"

"No, I was just gonna head back to my dorm," she replied.

"Oh, did you drive?"

"No, I walked. It's only like a twenty-minute walk from the sophomore dorms."

"Well, after all that, I'm pretty sure we'd all feel more comfortable if you rode home with us."

"I don't know..." Hailey trailed off.

"Those dorms are only like five minutes away from the house we stay at. And, it's on our way there anyway. Please, just come with us."

Hailey sighed. It would be a lot faster than walking. "Okay."

Then, they finished their walk to Adam's truck and the two girls got in the backseat and the two boys got in the front.

And that is how Jay Halstead met the sweet Georgia peach that is Hailey Anne Upton.

***

Jay, Adam, Will, Kim, and Hailey were all at a sports bar one Saturday night in October. It was loud, it was rowdy, everyone was going crazy over the football game on tv, and Hailey was totally over it. And Jay noticed.

"Hey," Jay whispered from his seat next to her. "You wanna get outta here?"

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "You'd wanna leave and not finish the game?"

In the past two months, Hailey had been spending a lot of time with Kim, and by default, she had been spending a lot of time with Adam, Jay, and Will. She will admit going over to their three-bedroom house they all rented together was a lot better than being stuck in her small dorm with her roommate. So, she went over there quite a bit to study with Kim. And, turns out she and Jay were both law studies majors, so they had a lot of the same classes, but they were in different sections, so they did a lot of studying together, too. And, she knew like most college boys, Jay loved his football. Not as much as Adam, but he watched it whenever one of his teams were playing. Which, was Chicago or Tennessee.

"Yeah," Jay started, "it's kinda loud in here anyway. And, it's just Tennessee playing. I'd be more likely to stay if the Bears were playing."

"Okay, let's get outta here. I know a great little diner we can go to for milkshakes. Pretty sure they're open until 11 and it's only 10, so we should be able to make it."

"Adam," Jay said over the game. Adam turned to face Jay. "Me and Hailey are gonna get out of here. I'll see you back at home."

"See you," Adam said and then turned back to his game.

"Guess we know where his loyalties lie," Hailey laughed.

The two of them stood up from their chairs at the table.

"You better get my friend home safe, Halstead!" Kim yelled.

"Yes ma'am," he said, borrowing a line from Adam. "You've got nothing to worry about."

Then, the two of them made their way out of the local sports bar and to Jay's truck.

***

"You've gotta be kiddin' me," Hailey said as the two of them walked up to the diner. "They're closed. Closed at 10 and not at 11. I'm really sorry, Jay."

"That's okay. Got anywhere else you wanna go? Or I can just take you back to your dorm if you want?" Jay suggested.

She sighed. "Just take me back I guess."

The two of them walked back to Jay's truck and got in. Hailey gasped at the song that was on the radio.

"What?" Jay asked, quickly turning to look at Hailey.

"This is my favorite song!"

Lights go down, wheels go around. I'm taking you home. Hoping for a slow song to come on the radio now.

Slow Dance in a Parking Lot by Jordan Davis continued to play through the speakers of Jay's truck.

"What's it about?" Jay asked.

"Slow dancing in a parking lot."

Jay listened to a few more lines and then decided to turn up the radio and jump out of the car.

"Jay, what are you--"

But he was already at her side of the car and pulled her door open.

"Dance with me?" he asked, sticking his hand out for her to take.

"What?" she laughed as a huge smile grew on her face.

"You said the song's about slow dancing in a parking lot and we're in an empty parking lot, so, why not recreate the song?"

Hailey laughed once more and shook her head and then grabbed Jay's hand. He helped her out of his truck and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist and they swayed to the music.

"Slow dance with you. Spinning you round by the Walmart sign and moving our feet over the painted white lines. Getting close to you. Making the most of whatever we got, even if it's just slow dance in a parking lot," Hailey sang quietly.

"Spin," Jay said as he held his hand up.

"What?"

"Spinning you round just like the song says."

Hailey laughed and reached for his hand and did a spin.

"Beautiful," Jay complimented.

"Yeah, right. That's was probably the messiest spin known to man."

"Well, um, it was beautiful. You're beautiful, Hailey."

She was glad it was dark so that Jay couldn't see the heat that rose to her cheeks.

"You're somethin' else, but thank you." She rested her head on his chest as they swayed to the rhythm of the rest of the song.

The song ended and the broadcaster started talking.

"Can I kiss you?" Jay asked.

"What?" she pulled away from his chest.

"I asked if I could kiss you. Was that too much? You know what, just forget--"

"Yes, Jay, kiss me," Hailey smiled and then she and Jay both leaned in.

It was just a peck, but it was their first kiss and despite it being in a dark parking lot late at night, it was still magical.

"You know," Jay began once the quick kiss was over, "there's a Walmart across the street. What do you say we go grab pints of ice cream from there and then you can show me your favorite country songs?"

"I'd like that. Adam didn't show you enough?" she asked.

"I've only got like thirty I like. I need to expand my horizons."

"Okay, let's go."

They held hands in Walmart and then picked out their respective pints of ice cream. Then, they went back to the parking lot of the closed diner and Jay plugged in the aux, allowing Hailey to show him her favorite country songs while they ate their ice cream from the pint and even shared with each other.

Hailey knew nobody would have a first kiss story like that.

Then, at the beginning of the winter semester, Hailey's roommate decided not to live in the dorms anymore. Hailey couldn't afford to pay for a dorm all by herself, so Kim offered to let her stay with her, Jay, Adam, and Will. So, that's how she ended up living with her boyfriend and sharing a room with her best friend, Kim Burgess.

"We're here," Jay announced. "Well, actually, we're a few streets away, but that's one of the lecture halls on your right."

You looked out the window to see a big red and brown brick building with white pillars on the steps. There was also a white sign telling you what building this was.

"Wow," you said in awe. "It's like those old-fashioned colleges. I love it."

"Well, we'll give you a tour and help you find your classes sometime this weekend before classes start on Tuesday. That way, you aren't getting lost on the first day. But, we'll head to the house for now and get all unpacked."

"Sounds good to me."

Five minutes and a few back roads later, you pulled up to a simple two-story brick house.

"Alright, let's get our stuff out and get inside," Jay said.

You stepped out of the truck and started grabbing some stuff out of the back seat.

"I'll jump in the truck and hand you the suitcases. Think you can grab them when I hand them to you?"

You nodded.

"Halstead!" you heard someone shout and you and Jay both whipped your heads around to see Hailey and Adam walking out of the garage and toward the two of you. Adam, well who you assumed was Adam, was carrying two cowboy hats and he and Hailey each had one on themselves.

"Catch!" Adam said and threw one to Jay where he was standing in the box of the truck. Jay easily caught it and placed it on his head.

Adam walked over to you.  "And one for you, darlin'," he said as he placed the hat on your head.

"Thank you," you said. "But I thought Kim was darlin'," you said. It'd make sense because if this guy was in fact Adam, then he and Kim were dating.

"You didn't tell her?" Hailey asked Jay.

"Didn't think there'd be a need to." Jay shrugged.

"Tell me what?" you asked.

"Well, Adam calls every girl darlin'," Jay explained. "It's just normal for him. And, down here, you're gonna get a lot of huns, sweeties, and sweethearts. A lot of waiters and waitresses do that here."

"And what do they call you two?" you asked, motioning to Jay and Adam.

"Sir," they said in unison.

"Oh, and you'll occasionally get a ma'am," Hailey added. "But, that one's rare because we don't look old enough to be called ma'am."

"Okay. And, uh, not to be rude, but what's with the cowboy hats?" you asked.

"It's a tradition we just started last year," Adam explained. "We unpack, wear cowboy hats, and drink moonshine. Oh, I'm Adam by the way, darlin'."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

Jay handed you a suitcase and you set it on the ground. Then, you did the same thing with two more suitcases.

You grabbed your backpack from the front seat, your duffle bag from the back, and your two suitcases.

"Here, I can take those two for you," Adam said.

"Oh, okay," you said and then allowed him to take the two suitcases from you. So this is what Jay meant by southern hospitality since Adam was from Tennessee and all.

"Jay, lemme take your suitcase," Hailey said.

"Baby, I've got it," Jay argued as he jumped out of the box of his truck and closed the tailgate.

"The hell you do," she argued. "I see all your other stuff in the backseat and that basket of snacks you gotta carry in, too. Just lemme take your one suitcase."

"Let 'er take the suitcase, Halstead. Best to listen to your lady," Adam said.

"I like Adam already," you laughed.

He let go of one of the suitcases and tipped his hat. "Thank you, darlin'."

This caused all four of you to laugh and then you all went inside carrying both yours and Jay's stuff in one trip between the four of you.

***

"Shine in the fridge?" Jay asked after you and he had brought all your stuff to your room.

"Shine, Jay? How southern do you get when you're here?" you asked.

"Oh, he gets pretty southern, hun," Hailey said.

"See?" Jay asked as he pointed to Hailey. "Told you you'd get called hun."

"So, Adam's thing is darlin' and Hailey's is hun?" Hailey nodded. "And it's because you're from Georgia and he's from Tennessee?"

"That's right, darlin'," Adam confirmed and then turned back to Jay. "Yeah, shine's in the fridge. And Kim just texted and said she's on the way back with pizza."

"You got apple pie flavored shine?" Jay asked.

"Hang on. I'm just gonna grab 'em."

The three of you sat down on the bar stools at the counter and waited for Adam to pull them out.

"Alright," Adam started after he put the bottles of moonshine with sip lids on the counter. "We have peach for Miss Georgia Peach." He passed the peach bottle of moonshine to Hailey. "We've got apple pie shine for me and Jay. We've got strawberries and creme for Kim because that's her favorite." He turned to you. "And for you, I got you blackberry because it's not that high of a proof, so it's not that strong." He slid the jar to you.

"Nuh uh," Jay said quickly and grabbed the bottle.

"What the hell, Jay? Give it back! Adam said it's for me, not you!" you argued.

"Last I checked, you're only eighteen."

"Last I checked, Dad's not here. And I know for a fact you drank before you were 21, so pass me the blackberry shine, please."

"I'll take the first sip and then you can have it." He made sure the straw part was open and then he took a sip. "Adam, that shit's like a chaser compared to the apple pie one."

"I know. That's why I got 'er that one," Adam said.

You heard a door shut.

"Pizza's here!" Kim announced.

She walked into the kitchen with three boxes of pizza.

"I got us three pies," she said as she set them down on the counter. "We got one pepperoni and green olive, one supreme, and one meat lovers." She turned to you. "And you must be Y/N. I'm Kim. I see Adam already got you started on that Tennessee moonshine."

"Nice to meet you," you said. "You're from New York, right?"

"Yup, not New York City, though. More upstate."

"Of course she's from New York, Y/N!" Jay exclaimed. "Who else would call pizza a pie except for a true New Yorker?"

"I'll take that as a compliment. Thanks, Jay."

Jay raised his bottle of apple pie moonshine in a fake cheers and then took a sip.

"Now that's the strong shit I need to start off this semester right," he announced and then set the bottle down.

"Oh, and if your brother didn't tell you yet, he turns into a borderline alcoholic when he's at school," Kim told you.

You laughed. "He didn't tell me that, no."

"Better than being a caffeine addict like Kim and Hailey here," Jay argued.

"Shut up," Hailey said. "You know you're a caffeine addict during finals week just the rest of us."

"I was a caffeine addict in high school, so we'll see what happens," you shrugged.

Kim grabbed a stack of paper plates and set them on one of the pizza boxes. "Dig in. Oh, Y/N, did Adam get you the blackberry flavored moonshine?"

"He did. Haven't tried it yet because Jay has yet to give it back to me."

Kim quickly reached down and grabbed the jar of moonshine.

"Hey, Kim! She's only 18!" Jay protested.

"So? I know you drank an insane amount during your freshman year. So shut it." Kim popped open the sipping lid. "Taste."

You took a sip. It did taste like blackberry, but it was also sort of strong, but it didn't burn your throat that bad like you had read in books that alcohol did.

"This is actually pretty good."

"I know, right? And, me and Hailey will let you try ours when we help you unpack," Kim said. "But, do not try the kind the boys have because it's nasty."

"Baby, I don't know what you have against apple pie moonshine, but it's good," Adam said and then took a sip of his moonshine. Kim rolled her eyes. Adam leaned across the counter. "The New York in her is coming out, darlin'."

"Oh, shut up," Kim said and reached over to steal Adam's cowboy hat off his head.

"Baby, now I feel naked without it," Adam argued and tried to reach for the hat.

"Sucks for you. Now eat your pizza before it gets cold."

***

"Morning," Jay said when you walked into the kitchen the next morning. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good. it's nice not having to share a room with anyone like you and Adam, and then Hailey and Kim have to. It was fun having them help me unpack last night, though," you said.

Last night, Kim and Hailey had helped you unpack and when you mentioned that you didn't really know any country music, Hailey pulled up all of her favorite country songs to play for you. You especially liked Girl in a Country Song by Maddie and Tae. They showed you the music video for that song and it was about how, in most country music videos, girls had to dress up in little skimpy outfits and have the boys just stare at them all day. So, in their music video, they changed the roles, and the guys had to dress in skimpy clothing in the music video. It was pretty funny and the song was catchy.

"Let me guess," Jay began, "Hailey showed you some good country music?"

"Yup. The songs she showed me were pretty good, pretty upbeat. Didn't sound like a cat being put in a blender like old-fashioned country, so I guess that's good."

"What do you have against old-fashioned country, darlin'?" Adam asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"I dunno." You shrugged. "Too slow for me and I just don't like the voices I guess."

"You know what we ought to do, Jay?" Adam asked and Jay raised his eyebrows, silently telling adam to continue. "We should show her all the songs that are mentioned in What's Your Country Song."

"Wait, wait. I think I know that one. I think Hailey played it for me last night. Is it the one that mentions Chatta- Chatta..."

"Chattahoochee?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, that funny word. What even is that anyway?"

"It's a river that runs through Georgia," Jay answered. "Pretty sure Hailey used to go tubing down it like we're gonna do today."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "We're going tubing? Like behind a boat?"

Adam laughed. "Christ, Jay! Do you tell her anything?"

"He doesn't," you answered. "So, explain, one of you."

"Alright, I'll do it," Jay said as he poured milk on top of a bowl of Raisin Bran. You looked at him intently. "What we do is, the first Saturday that we're all together before school starts, we go on tubes and float down the Tennessee River. We bring a cooler full of snacks, sandwiches, booze, and water, and a waterproof speaker and we just have a fun time. Oh, and this year, you're the DD."

"Me?" you asked as you pointed to yourself. Jay nodded. "But I don't know where to go! I haven't even been in Tennessee for a full 24 hours yet!"

"Kim's like the mom of the group," Adam supplied. "So she'll still be pretty lucid and could probably drive if she needs to. But, she'll at least be able to give you directions on how to get back here."

You sighed. "Good. That makes me feel a lot better."

"Where are the other two girls anyway?" Adam asked. "They're usually up a lot earlier than we are when we go on the river."

"I think they were a little buzzed last night," you said. "Might still be sleeping."

While you were unpacking, you took a few sips of your jar of blackberry moonshine, but not a lot. You'd never really drank before, much less drank moonshine and you didn't really feel like puking from being drunk or having a killer headache from a hangover...at least, that's what you thought happened from what you had read in books and seen in movies and tv shows. But, Kim and Hailey had each finished like a quarter of their jar, so they had been buzzed last night. They weren't drunk because they could still walk in a straight line and knew what they were talking about, but they did have little dopey smiles on their faces while they helped you unpack.

"She's right," Kim said as she and Hailey walked into the kitchen. Hailey's hair was wrapped in a towel, alerting you that she had just taken a shower. "Adam, can you grab me an Advil?" She took a seat on a stool and put her head in her hands. "My head is fucking killing me. I didn't even think I drank that much."

Adam laughed. "You do this every semester, baby. First shine of the year and you always drink a little too much." He handed her the pills and a cup of water and Kim quickly washed the pills down.

"I just need some coffee," Hailey announced.

"We know, you don't get hangover headaches," Kim groaned.

"Yeah, but I feel exhausted all day. Everyone goin' for coffee? I'll make a bigger pot if that's the case."

Everyone said yes and Hailey started on the coffee.

***

"Okay, we got the tubes, the speaker, swimsuits are on, we have the towels, cooler," Jay rattled off as the five of you sat in his truck. "Anyone double-check the cooler?"

"I did," Hailey said. "We got water, the same shine from last night, some white claws, the sandwiches me and Kim made for everyone, chips, and a few other snacks."

"And I threw in a little first aid kit with bandaids, alcohol swabs, Neosporin, and other stuff. And I've got the sunscreen, too," Kim said.

"See, what'd I tell you, darlin'?" Adam asked as he turned around from his spot in the passenger seat. "Kim's the mom of the group."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Kim said. "It means I'm responsible and prepared."

"Those two would get so damn sunburned and dehydrated if it weren't for Kim," Hailey said as she pointed to Jay and Adam in the two front seats.

"Thanks, Hails," Jay replied sarcastically. "Real nice."

"You're welcome," she said with a smile.

You leaned your head against the window. You were supposed to get stuck in the middle, but seeing as you got car sick easily, Kim said she'd switch spots with you.

"You okay?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, just, Jay really needs to turn on the AC before I throw up from motion sickness and how damn hot it is in here."

"Least you got that cowboy hat to puke in if you need to," Jay laughed as he reached for the AC. "You better not puke in my tuck or you will be walking home."

Adam smacked him upside the head.

"Ow!" Jay exclaimed and took one hand off the wheel and rubbed the back of his head. "The hell was that for?"

"Dude, be nice! Look at her!" Adam exclaimed.

Jay looked in the rearview mirror and saw you leaning your head against the window with your eyes closed and pinching your nose. You groaned.

"Here," Jay said and tossed you a blue bottle of Gatorade from his cup holder. "Drink this. Get you some hydration and electrolytes."

You took a few sips and then handed the bottle back to him. "Thanks."

"Mhm."

Kim moved the vents so that the AC was blowing on you more. "That help?"

"Little bit, thanks."

"Think you'll be good to go down the river?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, because then I won't be trapped in a hot box going sixty down the road!"

"She's right about that," Adam agreed. "You'll be lucky if you go five miles per hour, darlin'."

"Alright, so the motion sickness should stop. Thank God."

"Just rest your head against the window and listen to some country music," Jay said. "Speaking of that, who's controlling the music on the river?"

"I got it," Adam volunteered. "Everyone give me a song and I'll get the queue started."

***

You had been going down the river for about half an hour now and had finished a bottle of water and eaten a banana, too. You felt fine now. Adam was right, you were going slow enough that you didn't get sick, and you also weren't in the backseat of a truck.

"Hey, Kim," you started, "can you pass me my moonshine?"

"Mhm," she said. You guys had tied a cooler to a tube, which was then tied to Kim's tube. Because, the boys figured that between the five of you, she was the most responsible. They toyed with tying it to your tube because you probably wouldn't get shitfaced (like the boys most likely would) since you were underage, but you had never gone tubing down the Tennessee River before, so they decided on Kim. "Here, Hailey, hold my white claw."

She passed Hailey her drink and then maneuvered the cooler towards her, opened it, and handed you your moonshine.

"Thank you," you said and popped open the sip lid and took a sip. "Ahhh."

"Hey, drink it slow," Adam warned, turning towards you and practically yelling over the music. He and Jay were in front of the three of you girls so they could tell you if there were a ton of rocks coming or if it was super shallow coming up. "Heat makes getting drunk a lot easier because you keep drinking it because you're so thirsty."

"I don't think that's how it works, man, but whatever you say," Jay laughed.

Another song started.

"Hey!" you yelled. "I know this song!"

"Yeah, because it's old as hell," Jay laughed.

"Shut up! I like it!"

Baby you a song you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise. Down a back road, blowin' stop signs through the middle every little farm town with you.

"And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it. Baby you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise," the five of you sang Cruise by Florida Georgia Line while holding your drinks in pure happiness.

Because of this, you didn't notice Jay drifting off to the side toward the trees.

Jay let out a sinister laugh as he got closer. "C'mere, buddy, c'mere." The black snake stuck his tongue out and hissed. "Yeah, I know, you wanna scare Y/N, too." Jay held his hand out toward the snake. "I'm nice, I promise." The snake slithered and went up on Jay's hand and started up his arm. He turned once most of the snake was on him. He started using his other hand to paddle himself back toward the group. "Y/N!"

You turned and looked at him. You saw the snake on his arm and tears pricked your eyes. "No! No!" you shouted.

Snakes were your biggest fear and knowing that they were in the river that you were in right now was absolutely terrifying to you. And, with each paddle, Jay and the snake were coming closer and closer to you.

"Jay, please, please!"

Adam turned and looked at Jay and then back to you. "She scared of snakes?" You quickly nodded as tears ran down your face. "Jay! Stop! She's terrified!"

Jay laughed. "No!"

He was coming closer and closer to you.

Adam quickly paddled over to you and went in front of you. "I won't let it go near you, darlin', don't you worry."

"Uh huh," you said and grabbed onto Adam's arm in complete and utter terror.

Unknown to Jay, Hailey was making her way to him. But, she was behind him, so Jay couldn't see his girlfriend coming up behind him with her empty bottle of white claw raised high in the air.

He felt it before he heard her.

"Don't." Smack on the head with the empty can. "You." Another smack on the head with the empty can. "Do." Another smack on the head with the empty can. "That." Last smack on the head with the empty can.

"Ow!" Jay yelled. "Hails, stop!"

"Put the fuckin' snake back and stop scarin' the daylights outta your little sister or I will keep smackin' you, Jay!" Hailey told him.

"Fine, I'll put it back," he groaned.

"Hailey, keep that can raised above his head. If he tries to come back here, hit 'im again!" Adam yelled.

"You got it!" Hailey said. "Hear that baby? Your head is gonna come in contact with this 'ere empty white claw can again if you don't get a move on."

"I'm going, I'm going," Jay grumbled.

"Good, then you won't get smacked again."

"Just for all that," Adam started, "you wanna pick the next song, darlin'?"

"Can you play Better Dig Two by The Band Perry?" you asked. "That counts as country right?"

"Sure does, darlin'." He started messing with his phone. "Comin' right up."

"I told you on the day we wed, I was gonna love you 'til I's dead," you started to sing. "Made you wait 'til our weddin' night, that's the first and the last time I wear white."

"Snake's gone! Made sure he put it down and I even watched it slither away!" Hailey announced. "Put me in the ground, put me six foot down," Hailey joined in after she had finished yelling over part of the first verse.

"And, as for you, Jay," Adam started over the music and all of you singing. "You don't get to pick a song for the next hour."

"Son of a bitch," Jay muttered.

"Hey, you brought this one on yourself, buddy. So just sit back, relax, listen to our music choices, and enjoy your shine."

***

One week later

"And we're here!" Adam announced as the five of you pulled onto a long dirt driveway. "You ready to ride some horses, Y/N?"

"I dunno," you said. "I've never ridden a horse before."

"Oh, Adam'll make sure you're super safe," Kim reassured you.

"Okay, so whatever horse I ride won't buck me off?"

"Oh no," Adam said quickly, "we'll put Jay on Buck."

"Like hell you will!" Jay argued from the backseat.

Despite the studying the five of you had to do, you were at Adam's childhood home. Adam's parents had rented a cabin in North Carolina for the weekend since it was Labor Day weekend and needed someone to watch the five horses they owned.

His parents used to own a riding place with multiple horses, but since their kids got older, they stopped doing it because they were getting older and couldn't give the tours anymore. So, they sold most of their horses, left five so that their kids could ride them with their friends, but still kept the house and the land. Whenever Adam's parents went out of town, either he or his sister would come and stay over at their childhood home and take care of the horses. Seeing as his sister was married and just gave birth to a daughter, this left Adam. And, luckily for him, his parents were fine with some friends coming over to help Adam out.

"Relax, man," Adam began, "I'll ride Buck."

"Wait, is he called Buck because he bucks people off?" you asked.

"You would be completely right, darlin'. Which, would be the reason I'm riding him and neither of you four will be doing that."

Adam put the truck in park and you got out of the passenger seat. Yes, you had ridden in the front because Adam said you could because of your motion sickness. Jay wasn't too happy, but it was Adam's car, so therefore it was Adam's rules.

You got inside the house and it had two extra bedrooms, one of which was Adam's childhood room and had an extra twin bed in it for when his friends wanted to sleepover (Because, in Adam's words, it was only girls who shared beds at sleepovers and he said guys didn't do that, so that's why there was the extra bed). In his older sister's childhood room, there was a full-sized bed, so Hailey and Kim would share the bed and the boys said they'd move a couch into that same room for you to sleep on.

Adam opened the fridge once all of you had put your stuff in the rooms that would be yours for the weekend. "Ooooh, y'all, my mama left us some food!"

"Oh, he southern southern now," Kim laughed and walked over to the fridge. "What'd she make?"

"Let's see. We got fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cornbread, gravy, biscuits, grits, tater salad, peaches that she canned herself, and apple pie. She must really miss me if she cooked this much!" Adam laughed after he rattled off the food his mom made for all of you.

"Mama's cookin', paper plate, and tater tater salad," you said, quoting a song Jay had played on the way down here that you had taken a liking to and had added it to a playlist and been listening to it a lot the past week.

"Did you just..." Adam trailed off.

"She did!" Jay exclaimed.

"Is it that hard to believe that I know more than two country songs, y'all?" you asked.

All four of them gasped.

"She's southern! She's southern, y'all!" Hailey yelled.

"What?" you asked as you looked around at your brother, his girlfriend, and his two friends in confusion.

"That was yer first y'all, hun!" Hailey told you and pulled you into a hug. "Yer a regular southern belle now."

"Next thing you know, girl's gonna be fallin' for cowboys," Adam said.

"Aw, hell nah," Jay said. "Ain't no way she's datin' a cowboy. No way."

"Shit, Jay just went southern southern, too," Adam laughed.

"What can I say, when my girl goes hella Georgia, I go hella Tennessee," Jay said.

"That made zero sense, baby, but okay," Hailey said. She turned to Adam. "When we ridin'?"

"We can go right now if you want. Everyone good with that?"

You all nodded and then Adam told all of you to put on your cowboy hats.

***

"This 'ere's Maddy," Adam said before he helped you onto the horse. You put your feet in the stirrups. "They feel good? You can reach 'em well?" he asked.

"Yeah," you told him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, darlin'." He turned to Jay, Hailey, and Kim. "You three remember how to get on the horses since we rode so much last year?"

"We're good," Jay said.

"Hey, baby?" Hailey asked and turned to Jay. He turned to look at her. "You think you can help me on 'im? Pretty sure Diablo's gotten a lot bigger since I rode 'im last."

"Yeah, sweetheart, I got that."

"Did he just..." you trailed off and looked at Kim.

"He did," she confirmed. "She turns into sweetheart around this time every year. Jay gets really southern after only being here a week. Might also have something to do with Adam calling me sweetheart sometimes and he just picks up on it."

Jay helped Hailey onto the huge horse named Diablo and then got on his horse. You were riding Maddy, Adam was riding Buck, Jay was riding Sinbad, Hailey was riding Diablo, and Kim was riding Atta'Boy.

"All y'all need to watch me now," Adam announced from the front. All four of you gave Adam all your attention. "Well, mostly Y/N because she's never ridden before." He paused. "To make your horse stop, just give the reins a little tug. To turn, hold the reins on your right side, and pull towards your right hip, like this." He demonstrated and pulled the reins like he told you and Buck's head turned to the right. "And turn left, do the same thing on the left side. To make them go, just flick the reins a little bit, but they're pretty well-trained, so you shouldn't need to do that. But, if they still won't go, give 'em a little kick. I promise you won't hurt 'em. But, most of all, keep at least one hand on the reins at all times. Oh, and they will try to eat on the trails, but they ain't supposed to, so try and get them to stop by pulling up on the reins if you can.

"Any questions? Everyone sure their stirrups and saddles are good?" Adam finished.

Everyone answered with a chorus of "yeses" and then the five of you were off...that was until Maddy decided she was hungry about a quarter-mile (400 meters) in.

And, to make matters worse, you were in the mountains (because everyone is in the mountains here) and Maddy was bringing you closer and closer to a small ravine.

You did not want to have the experience of trying to control your horse and deciding whether or not to jump off or not and possibly being rushed to the hospital.

"Maddy!" you yelled and tugged up on the reins. Nothing. "Maddy!"

"Pull hard!" Jay yelled from behind you.

"I am pulling, Jay!" you yelled back. "Come on, Maddy!"

Shit, she was still moving towards the edge and trying to eat more.

"Pull to the left!" Jay yelled. You pulled. Nothing. "All the way around! To your left hip!"

You did so and she moved. Finally.

"Now straighten out the reins," Jay told you. You did. "And give her a kick to move."

You did and she continued walking...this time with a huge branch and leaves hanging out of her mouth because she had gotten herself a nice little snack.

"What's with all the yellin'?" Adam asked as he turned his head around and had Buck slow down a little bit. Then, he saw Maddy. "Maddy stop to eat? She acts likes she's starvin', but I promise you she's not."

You kept going and then you started going down a hill.

"Lean forward when going down a hill," Adam yelled back to all of you, "and lean back when going up a hill."

You started going down the hill and kept trying to maneuver yourself so you were in the middle of the saddle. You felt like you were leaning too much to the right, so you kept trying to fix it, but with Maddy still walking, it was kind of hard.

You clenched your stomach muscles to try and pull yourself back to center, but it wasn't working. You tried to push up with your left foot because you were leaning to the right, but that wouldn't work either.

"Just hold on tight, Y/N," Jay told you. "Adam!" Jay yelled as you kept leaning to the right and pulled the reins a little harder to make sure that Maddy would stop.

"What?" Adam yelled back.

"We need a little help back here!"

Adam turned Buck around and he got halfway to you and stopped next to Hailey and Diablo.

"She's fallin' off, you big dummy! You gotta go!" Adam yelled. He flicked his reins. "C'mon, go!"

It was like Buck knew what was going on because the minute he lifted his head up and saw you trying to stay in the saddle, he started coming towards you.

"Buck, stay," Adam said sternly and jumped off him. He walked to your right side. "Now, I'm gonna push your saddle to the left and I need you to lean the same way, okay?"

"Lean to the left?" you asked.

"Yup," he confirmed. "One...two...three."

He pushed up and you leaned to the left, which allowed the saddle and you to be re-centered.

"Can you reach the stirrups okay, darlin'?" he asked. "Or do you need 'em a bit higher?"

"I think I need them a bit higher," you answered. "I thought they were fine, but I guess not."

"That's okay. That's what I'm here for. Take your right foot out."

You did as he said and then he adjusted the stirrups and helped you get your foot back in. Then, he did the same for the left foot.

While Adam was adjusting your left stirrup, Maddy was curious about what was in his first aid bag that was attached to Buck's saddle.

"I ain't got no treats in there, you fatty." He put his hand on Maddy's head. "There's nothin' in there for you. Get out." She started chewing on a drawstring that was on the bag. "Okay, I guess you can chew on that."

"So, to get her to turn, do I just pull like this?" you asked and showed Adam.

"Yes, but put your hand further down the reins when you do that. Works better like that."

"Okay, thanks."

"And, if she keeps tryin' to eat, pull up hard--but not too hard and far that you make her walk backward--and if that doesn't work, give her a quick kick. I promise you won't hurt this little fatty right here."

"Okay, awesome."

"You good?"

"I'm good," you confirmed.

"Okay, so if you ever need to adjust yourself, just grab this 'ere saddle horn." He put his hand on the stub on the front of the saddle. "And put two hands on it...unlike me, and then just push down with your foot on which side you want the saddle to go. Pretty simple."

"Okay, got it," you said.

Then, Adam jumped back on Buck and you were off again.

***

You and Kim were sitting up on the bed in Adam's older sister's childhood room that you were staying in and watching a dumb comedy when Adam poked his head into the room.

"Both you up?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kim answered. "Why?"

"Well, I want to go to the rope swing, and Jay and Hailey both fell asleep spooning while watching some shitty movie in the living room, so do you two wanna go? I'm bringing alcohol."

"Adam, it's like 11 o'clock at night!" Kim laughed. "We won't even be able to see the water!"

"Honey," Adam laughed. "I'll leave the headlights of my truck on! I'm not that stupid to have us jump in blind!" He paused. "You two in?"

"Sure," Kim agreed and then turned to you. "Y/N?"

"Why the hell not? I'm in college, let's go!"

"Alright, I'll let you two get changed and I'll grab the towels and the booze," Adam said.

"Adam, if you're the one driving, you cannot drink a ton!" Kim told him.

"I know! I'll just take like two shots and use moonshine as a chaser."

"You got more moonshine?" you asked.

"Holy hell, Adam," Kim agreed.

"Where do you two think I was the past hour? I went into town and grabbed a few flavors. and, I got both your flavors, too. So, y'all can't yell at me. Now, get changed so we can go before Jay and Hailey wake up and decide they want in on this, too."

***

"You good to sit in the back, Miss Car Sick?" Adam asked you.

"Yeah, you said it's only like a five minute drive, so I'll be fine. Thanks for asking, though," you answered.

"No problem, darlin'."

Then, the three of you were off to this rope swing to jump into a river in the middle of the night.

Five minutes later, Adam threw his car in park and left the radio and headlights on. The three of you got out and Adam grabbed the booze and shot glasses and then you followed him around to the back of his truck. He handed the stuff off to you and Kim to hold while he flipped his tailgate down. Then, he used the flashlight app of his phone to see as he poured each of you a shot of gummy bear flavored vodka.

"Cheers to late night decisions and possibly bad decisions!" Adam toasted.

The three of you clinked your shot glasses together and then took the shots.

"Shit. That was strong," you coughed.

"Chaser, chaser," Adam said as he flipped open the sip cap on the blackberry moonshine.

He handed it to you and you took a few sips.

"Compared to that shot, this moonshine tastes like nothin'," you said.

"See? Told you it had a low proof!" Adam exclaimed. "Now, do you two want me to go first so I can show you how it's done?"

"That might be a good idea, yeah," Kim agreed. "You've only brought me here during the day and it's been over a year, so yeah, you go first, cowboy."

"Oh, that reminds me." He took his signature cowboy hat off. "Hold this for me, will you, sweetheart?" He held the hat out to Kim and she took it from him. "Thank you. Now, watch and learn, ladies, watch and learn."

Kim laughed. "Whatever you say, babe, whatever you say."

Adam walked up to the edge of the river and waded in the water to grab the rope. You and Kim stood on the edge of the river and watched as Adam dragged the rope with him as he stood on a rock, which was right below the tree that the rope was tied to. Then, he cinched the rope between his feet and jumped up and swung forward.

"Yeehaw!" Adam yelled.

Then, after a few seconds, he let go of the rope and fell into the river.

The rope dangled back and forth until Adam grabbed it and dragged it in with him.

"Who's next?" he asked as he held the rope out.

"You wanna go, Kim?" you asked.

"You sure you don't wanna go before me?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go ahead," you said.

"You nervous, darlin'?" Adam asked you as he took his hat back from Kim and placed it on his head.

"A bit." You looked down at your feet. "Are there snakes in there?" you practically mumbled.

"Oh, darlin'," Adam said with a wave of his hand. "I can promise you that there's no snakes in there. You've never seen a snake in there have you, baby?" he asked Kim.

"Nope, no snakes. I promise. Now, I'll go, and then you gotta go because it's so much fun!"

Kim grabbed the rope and then made her way up onto the rock. She did the same thing that Adam did and soon it was your turn.

"I'm stealing your aux, babe," Kim said as she walked toward Adam's truck.

Adam raised an eyebrow. "I don't know why you can't just listen to the radio like we've been doing, but go ahead, baby."

Kim walked over to the truck and changed the input to aux and then quickly pulled up Spotify. From there, she pulled up the song Like A Lady by Lady A, formerly known as Lady Antebellum. She turned the volume all the way up on her phone, plugged it into the aux, and hit play.

"Lady!" came out of the speakers as well as the opening chords.

You gasped as Kim came running back to you and Adam.

"How'd you know this one of my favorite songs?" you asked.

Ever since Hailey had played it for you on your first night in Tennessee when you were unpacking and sippin' on moonshine, you loved this song. It was all about feeling like a lady while wearing jeans and drinking and being comfortable with yourself and not needing a man.

"Y/N, I follow you on Spotify. I can see what you listen to. Now, go get to it, lady!" Kim cheered.

You smiled and turned around. You walked to the rock and climbed up on it just before the chorus. You grabbed onto the rope.

"'Cause I feel like a lady," you sang loudly to the music. "Sippin' on tequila with my Levis on."

You clamped your feet around the rope and jumped.

You felt weightless for just about one second and then you let go of the rope and fell into the water with a splash.

The water wasn't freezing, it was a little cold, but it was still decently comfortable. You started swimming back to the shore and grabbed the rope when it swung back toward you.

"Hell yeah!" Adam yelled as he ran up to you and took the rope so you could pull yourself up onto the river bank. "You did awesome! Did you like it?"

"I loved it! Let's do it again!" you yelled.

"See?" Kim said. "I told you that you'd love it!"

"I propose a celebratory shot for Y/N's first time jumping off the rope swing!" Adam said and the three of you headed back to his truck to have more booze.

And that is how you learned that you didn't get hangover headaches like Kim, but got hella tired the next day just like Hailey. But, a little hangover (despite not being old enough to legally drink) was all worth it because of how much fun you, Kim, and Adam had.

***

Months later

"Welcome to Chocolate Moose, everybody!" Adam announced and fumbled with the lockbox to get the key.

Since it was exam season, there was a tradition that started during the winter semester of their sophomore year that was where they'd all go up to a cabin (each cabin had a name and yours was Chocolate Moose) in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, which was an hour away from school, to go study without the temptation of parties and the libraries that were packed as hell and barely had any seats open because everyone and their mama had decided to study there.

He unlocked the door and opened it.

You walked in and were in awe. When you walked in, you saw a small kitchen complete with a stove, oven, microwave, and pots, pans, plates, bowls, cups, mugs, and silverware stored in cabinets and drawers. There was also a small pantry to your right the minute you walked inside.

Off of the small kitchen were the living room and the dining area. There was a circular wooden table with six chairs and there was a tv and a couch that folded out into a bed. Right next to that was a bedroom with a bathroom, which also had its own tv in it.

And, if you walked to the end of the living room, there was a door that led to the first-floor deck that overlooked the Smoky Mountains. On the deck was a wooden table that matched the wood of the deck and six stools, so it would be a nice place to study or eat breakfast or sip coffee in the morning.

The stairs to go to the second floor were above the table (so the table was tucked beneath the second set of stairs). When you got up there, there was a pool table, a bubble hockey table, another couch that folded out into a bed, and a coffee table in front of said couch.

To the right of the couch and coffee table was a California king-sized bed with a trunk in front of it which held the bedding for the pull-out couches. Then, there was a dresser with a mirror to the side of the bed and a closet. There was also a full bathroom with a washer and dryer and a dressing table (so tons of counter space and two mirrors) upstairs as well.

And, there was another deck on the second floor. This one didn't have a full-sized table, but it did have two chairs with a small table between, and a small couch complete with a bunch of throw pillows on one end of the deck. This deck too overlooked the beauty that was the Smoky Mountains.

"Who's that?" you asked fifteen minutes later after you had finished touring the cabin and figuring out sleeping arrangements.

It had been decided that Adam and Kim would take the first-floor bedroom and that you'd take the pull-out couch on their floor. Hailey and Jay would sleep upstairs and you wondered why you couldn't take the upstairs couch like you wanted to because Jay was quick to tell you no.

You knew they weren't gonna try to do the nasty up there since there was no door shutting the upstairs off from the downstairs, so you had no idea why he wouldn't let you sleep on the pull-out couch upstairs.

"Who's that?" you asked again while looking out the kitchen window.

Then, you saw a head of red hair in the driver's seat and rushed out the door to where the person parked their car.

"Will!" you shouted as he got out of the car. "I missed you!" You wrinkled your nose at what he was wearing: a pair of blue scrubs.

"I drove here right after I got off a twelve-hour ED rotation," Will told you. "Hence the scrubs."

"I would give you a hug, but who knows what kinda bodily fluids have been on those."

"Good choice. We'll postpone the hug until after I take a quick shower and change."

Adam, Kim, and Jay came outside and said their hellos to Will, and Jay took Will's backpack, making a joke saying that it felt like he stuffed a ton of rocks in there.

So, now you knew why you couldn't sleep on the pull-out couch upstairs: Will was sleeping there.

***

"Fuck!" you yelled as you felt a bee sting you on the upper part of your left inner thigh.

"What?" Adam asked.

You, Adam, and Kim were outside at the table on the first-floor deck studying while Will was upstairs studying and Jay and Hailey were studying one of their law studies classes at the kitchen table together.

"The fuckin' bee stung me!"

"Well, you were swattin' at him, darlin'," Adam said, which earned him a smack to the arm from Kim.

"Because he was between my legs!" you argued. "What was I supposed to do? Let him fly up my shorts and sting me there? Oh hell no!"

You got up and walked inside.

"Will!" you shouted the minute you closed the door to the deck.

"Y/N! Keep it down!" Jay scolded. "We're trying to study!"

You had made it up the first set of stairs and leaned over the railing. "Well, I just strung by fuckin' bee, so I think I can yell a bit, Jay! Will!"

"What?" he said and ripped out his headphones when you got all the way upstairs. "Med school's no joke, you know!"

"Well, what do I put on a bee sting?" you huffed.

Will sighed. "Hold on. They asked me to be the one who brought the first aid kit and I'm glad I did."

He got up and then came back with a bottle of lotion.

"Put this on it. Should cool down the stinging. Tell me if it gets worse or starts itching."

"Okay, thanks."

You put it on and hoped it would be better soon.

***

Okay, so this bee sting wasn't getting better. It was actually getting worse.

It had been itchy all day and you were currently shaving your legs in your shower. You felt the place where the bee had stung you and it was swollen as if someone had shoved a disk the size of an Oreo in your leg at the place the bee had stung you.

You got out of the shower, got changed, and walked out of the bathroom where country music was blasting and Jay and Adam were playing a friendly (okay, so maybe not so friendly) game of pool.

"Hailey, is my bee sting supposed to be super itchy?" you asked as you sat down on the couch next to her.

She and everyone else was drinking one of their two allotted white claws. Yes, during finals week you had all decided there needed to be a daily cut-off for alcohol so that you could all get your shit done. And, it helped keep everyone accountable since everyone in the cabin was only having two per day...and you weren't spending a ton of money this weekend on alcohol.

"Um, none of mine have ever been," she said. "Will!" He turned to look at her from where he was sitting and intently watching the pool game...mostly to make sure neither Adam nor Jay cheated. "Her bee sting supposed to itch?"

"Not unless she's allergic to bees...and she's not." He stood up. "Go lay on the bed and let me take a look."

"Oh, fuck no! I am not letting my brother look there!"

"Y/N, I'm a med student. I've seen a helluva lot more than a bee sting on your inner thigh. You can even go put on some short spandex if that would make you more comfortable."

You currently had on loose-fitting shorts that you knew would fall back to expose what underwear you were wearing if you let Will take a look. "Actually, I think I'll go do that," you said.

You quickly grabbed a pair of spandex from your suitcase and went back into the bathroom and changed into them.

"Y'all check for a stinger?" Adam asked.

Will must've filled him in when you were changing your shorts.

"Shit," Will cursed. "I knew there was something I forgot to do."

"What kinda fuckin' doctor are you if you forget to check something like that?" you asked Will rhetorically. "Hailey, I'm gonna need that empty white claw bottle to smack Will over the head with like you did to Jay on the river."

"Sorry, hun," Hailey apologized. "I ain't finished with this 'ere can yet."

"I'll hit him!" Jay yelled, putting down his pool stick and grabbing his empty can.

He hit Will on the arm with the empty white claw can as hard as he possibly could.

"The fuck?" Will yelled. "Why'd you do that?"

"I dunno." Jay turned to Adam. "Why were we hitting Will, again?"

"Holy shit," Adam muttered to himself. "Because he forgot to check Y/N's bee sting to see if the stinger was still there."

"Oh, okay. That was stupid, Will."

You laid on the bed and let Will look at the spot the bee stung you. Then, he put on a pair of gloves and pulled out a pair of tweezers.

"Hailey?" he called. She looked up expectantly. "Can you come over here and hold up a flashlight? I think I found the stinger."

Hailey got up and turned on the flashlight on her phone and crouched down next to Will.

"That good?" she asked as she finished positioning the phone so the phone's flashlight was pointing directly at your bee sting.

"Yup." He looked up at you. "Now, I'm gonna put one of my hands above the bee sting, that way you won't be able to see the tweezers go in. Sound good?"

"Mhm. At least this is better than when Jay tried to attack me with a snake!"

Will laughed. "I bet."

Five minutes later, the stinger was out and Will told you to put Neosporin and a bandaid over it just so you didn't keep itching it because he told you the itchiness wouldn't go away immediately.

"I need a drink," you said after you were all done.

Hailey handed you a raspberry white claw from the mini-fridge next to the couch and you popped it open.

"Thanks," you said.

"You're welcome."

"Everyone shut up!" Adam yelled. "This is Jay and Hailey's song...well, they didn't exactly meet at a bar and Hailey wasn't drinking a white claw, but it was a Saturday and those two did ditch us. So, dance you two!"

They tried to object, but Adam dragged Jay over to Hailey and Kim pushed Hailey up off the couch and towards Jay.

"Sittin' over there in the corner, baby, I saw pretty red lips workin' on a white claw," you all sang along to Single Saturday Night by Cole Swindell. And, you'd be lying if you said that this song didn't remind you of the story that Jay had told you about the first time he took Hailey out when she was bored one Saturday night in a sports bar. "Shakin' to a little Shook Me All Night Long. And I thought, man, what a beautiful sight."

You smiled. Four months ago, there'd be no way you'd know this song. But, thanks to your brother's friends and his girlfriend, you knew so many more country songs. But, most of all, if your first semester of freshman year was any indication, you were going to have the time of your life going to college here in Tennessee.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading! Again, please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love reading all your comments and seeing that you voted because that means you enjoyed reading the imagine! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you! Again, I am donating all my proceeds on buy me a coffee until the end of AU-gust to Save The Children to help the children in Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee here.

Taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl@dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

[bukojuiice]

rose-colored boy

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ  tags: college/modern au, fluff, humor, love at first sight cliché, mikasa is your cute little sister, armin, sasha, jean, and connie are your besties, and eren is a himbo who works hard and has terrible friends.

ೃ warnings: strong language and mild suggestive content

ೃ part 1/??? of my (eren x reader) college au!

ೃ word count: 3000 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist 

ೃ This is my very first snk x reader fic! so i hope you bear with some errors! qwq 

i’ve been following the anime ever since it was released in 2013, and this is the first time i’m  going to be writing for it.  this month’s manga chapter really took me out so why not channel my sadness thru writing an fluff! eren fic? 🤧 i hope you enjoy either way!

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ  in which (Y/N) (L/N), 20, still in school, and regretfully-unregretfully-her little girl scout sister's assistant, meets eren jaeger in an embarrassing too innocent door-to-door cookie sale whilst a humiliating party was going on.

cookies, suspicious maybe-maybe-not pot brownies, meddling little sisters and friends, “oh my god they were roommates” vine on replay 24/7, homework, tears, and fairy lights bring them together.

“I’m going to enter now.”

“Ahhh yes, please!”

“Shut up, please.” Eren muttered to himself as he tossed and turned around in his bed, but still couldn’t get to sleep. “When will they ever stop doing this?” Why did Eren’s next-door roommate and his girlfriend have to do this five times a day? They had a lot of stamina for 21-year-olds who didn’t have anything better to do.

Eren’s thoughts eventually brought him to his parents.

His parents- did they even exist?

For pretty much 14 years of Eren’s life, they had been out of town or out of the country. His older brother, Zeke, blonde, bespectacled, tall, and sometimes too far up his own ass older brother who Eren is able to confide in from time to time, recently got a girlfriend whom he’s hopelessly in love with (they’re even thinking about getting married which isn’t really a problem since the girl is genuinely nice to his older brother so Eren is good with her.), so… things in the family had been a bit rough and busy to say the least.

Communication with his parents wasn’t always the best.

Eren would study late at night back when he was seven, because no one bothered to help him with homework. Along with the fact that he wasn’t the brightest kid in class, and he knew that very well, but he had ambition and he was determined to make it big in the world. He focused more on sports, particularly Soccer in middle school and high school, and tried to balance that with his studies.  After being granted a Sports Scholarship from Shigashina University, Eren decided to rent and share a flat, living with his batchmates who he met at a mixer party (before Uni started as this whole meet and get to know each other kind of thing) and whom he was so quick to call his ‘friends’, just so that he could get out of the hellhole that was his own house.

But things turned out much worse than expected.

Eren thought that the ‘College Life’ was to focus more on pursuing your future career and make a name for yourself but… it was the other way around.

He thought that after Freshmen year, everyone would take things seriously. Sure, have some drinks, get wasted after finals, or have house parties from time to time. But he was unfortunately, dragged into the wrong crowd. After attending around 5 parties in the first few months of being generalized as one of the infamous and pompous freshman archetypes present in every university, he called it a year and spent the rest of his nights doing homework, projects, playing video games, staying at the school soccer field until 10PM while his roommates were probably smoking crack and not caring about the number of units they needed to take for each of their goddamn subjects.

 He was ~living the life~ and now that he regrets most of the decisions he made in freshman year, the only option that he has left was to wait until his third year and move to a different apartment.  

 Now, here he was, Sophomore year, nearing the end of the semester, and very much eager to get the hell out of here and also study for his upcoming finals on Constitutional Law II, as his professor, Mr. Erwin Smith, was going to throw hands if one of his students score below average on the exam.

 “EREN MICK JAEGER! BROOOO!” Eren winces when he hears the shrieky and annoying voice of his flatmate Thomas Wagner, calling out to him. “Wanna go and party with us?” Eren smiles halfheartedly, shaking his head, “Ah, no thanks. I have a game tomorrow and finals coming up on Thursday.” Thomas smirked and wrapped his arm around Eren, “Oh fuck that, live the college life ya spoon.”

“No, really I have to study.”

Thomas frowned and groaned, “Oh god, you’re such a killjoy. Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t blame us if we tell you to buy some beer down the block.”

Eren cracked an obviously fake laugh and pushed Thomas away from him, “You’re an ass. That only happened once and that was when we first met. Don’t you even dare try to ask me to buy you shit again.”

“Woah. Woah. Woaaaaaah. That was a joke Eren. Loosen up will you?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the brunette’s sudden aggressiveness. He hums Moves like Jaeger by Maroon 5 as a way to spite Eren whilst passing by him down the staircase.

The brunette shook his head, tying his hair into a bun carelessly and sprinting into his room without uttering another word.

Eren just wanted to study. He really did.

Instead, his roommates, all of them, mind you, were all partying in the lounge and the music was too loud and Eren was too annoyed.

They did manage to bring him out and make him stay in the kitchen where he mindlessly glared at anyone who came in. He sighed and tapped his pen restlessly amongst the insane amount of books on the table.

There was a knock.

His roommate, Floch, came in the kitchen with his girlfriend who Eren couldn’t even name with all the women he has brought into the apartment. She was hanging onto his arm and giggling. Floch’s eyes were red and his speech very slow and lazy. "Eren!" he said with a sly grin.

Eren raised an eyebrow, shooting him an irritated look. "What now Floch? Are you here to tell me to take a shot again?" The ginger-haired’s girlfriend giggled once again and kissed Floch’s cheek. Floch laughed and swatted her away, though he missed by a long shot. "Someone's at the door," a thumb pointing to the den. "wouldchumind ge'in it?" another giggle. The girl nodded sloshily. "Yesss! Erenieee get 'em door, please. Be a dearrrrr."

Eren frowned and stared at them menacingly, earning no reaction from the two as they were mad drunk. "You were just in the den," Floch’s eyes widened. "My lovey wovey-we was in the den?" His girlfriend’s mouth went into an O. "Di'nt notice tha'!"

Eren sighed and stood up. He miraculously got through the throng of bodies and to the front door. "Yes?" he called out exasperated, not knowing who was outside.

"Do you want cookies?"

Eren turned and looked to see a little raven-haired girl, a girl scout no less, a blonde-haired boy pulling on a trolley who looked significantly shorter than him, wearing rimmed glasses, and an overall appearance whom his “friends” would immediately label as a nerd they had to be a few feet away from if they saw him and lastly, a girl who looked very tired and very done with life.

Beautiful (h/c)-colored hair, her eyes looked like the starry night sky, twinkling as he catches her gaze and a smile that looked forced, but warm all the same.  

A girl who was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Eren was captivated. His heart was beating like crazy and he could feel his ears turn red. He would make a fool of himself if he looked red as a tomato right now.

"Um," The girl peeked inside and grimaced, squeezing the hand that was her little sister's shoulder and catching Eren’s gaze. "Mikasa, I don't think these kinds of guys would want cookies."

“Unless they're pot cookies,” Eren almost said. Mikasa pouted and widened her eyes at Eren.

The older girl crouched down and frantically covered her little sister’s eyes. "Nopenopenope, Mi, don't pull that on him."

"But (Y/N)!"

(Y/N).

Her name was (Y/N).

Eren smiled sincerely (for the first time today) and leaned back inside to the drawer by the door to grab the extra cash he and his roommates put there for emergency pizza and stuff. "You know what? You're absolutely brilliant at selling cookies. I'll take one."

Mikasa smiled back at him cheekily and tugged her older sister’s hand. "See, (Y/N)?! He wants some! Go get 'em!”

The raven-haired girl then turned to the blonde teen, practically jumping up and down. “Armin look! We sold another one!"

“We did!” The boy who was apparently named Armin, clapped his hands together, then gave the little girl a high five. “You’re a natural at this Mikasa!”

(Y/N) looked at Eren, then Mikasa, and sighed. She grabbed a bag from the trolley Armin was dragging around and pulled out a box of cookies. Eren grabbed them slowly from her, their hands almost touching as he gave (Y/N) a small smile. The (h/c) girl blushed lightly, though not visible enough for the brunette to notice.

"Hope to see you again!" Eren called out when the siblings said their thank you's and bid farewell.

And, this time, even for the slightest moment, Eren’s serotonin levels were going straight through the roof. His heart was still beating loudly, almost in sync with the trash music his roommates were blaring on the speakers. and for a moment, even just for a moment. 

He felt genuine happiness that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

 The three of you continue to walk animatedly, now that the coast was clear and the guy from earlier wasn’t within earshot, your blonde friend just had to break the silence.

 Armin smiles, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his nose. “(Y/N), you did see how he looked at you right?” The blonde chuckles softly, catching his best friend off guard.

 You blinked. “Him?” You try to stop yourself from smiling, blushing profusely. “Geez Armin, I don’t even know his name yet.”

 “I’ll bet you 100 bucks that he goes to our Uni.”

 “Even if he does, it’s not like we’ll talk to him or anything. Judging from the place he lives in and the people he was hanging out with, we’re in two completely different worlds.” You shook your head in denial, holding Mikasa’s hand, your interlocked arms swinging playfully. Armin gives you a knowing look in response.

 Mikasa continued to wave back at the boy whom they had just sold cookies too. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Wasn’t he nice (Y/N)?” Mikasa asks her older sister. (Y/N) returned her sister a small smile, “He was.”

 "I hope we see him again!"

"I'm sure we will."

 The day of Eren’s dreaded finals finally arrive.

He has prepared tirelessly for this. Hours upon hours of hard work. But, before he finally gets his well-deserved sleep, he has a few more hours to cram and absorb more knowledge for his exams.

So, what better way to do so than head straight to the library as soon as it opens at 6 AM?

This time, no one was going to bother him. No annoying roommates and no distractions.

Eren heads over to a table near the coffee and snack machines. He puts down his bag on a seat next to him, and begins to study once again. Looking through the course materials and the lessons that he still didn’t quite understand. Eren was so absorbed with studying and relying on his gut feeling that no other student in this university would think of going to the library at 6 AM on the day of finals… then he’s wrong. Very wrong. 

 “Sasha, should you even be eating mashed potato this early in the morning?” Armin asks the brunette worriedly, a huge tone of concern in his voice.

“Armin! Don’t chu worry! I ate heavy breakfast! Bacon, Eggs, and Toast! Did you not see me in the kitchen!?” She reassures her blonde friend, continuing to scoop up the mashed potato on a reusable cup.

“Liar.” Connie hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I was awake since 4 AM. Not once did I see you sneak into the kitchen until (Y/N) woke you up.”

“Atatata. Can we… stop with the negative vibes for a second?” Jean tries to become the mediator by holding his hands up against his two friends who were about to start an argument. “It’s finals week. We have to keep a clear mind, body and soul-“

“Jean, you know that’s BS.” You yawn widely, still practically half-asleep.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just let me be positive just this once!? If we fail this exam I’m going to blame you!“

The five of you continue to talk mindlessly on the way to the library. Connie pushes the glass door open, very much excited to have this huge library all to yourselves.

Until…

There was someone already there.

Your eyes immediately come into contact with Eren’s. His radiant jade eyes staring into yours, mouth practically agape, his hands holding on to wooden chopsticks as the hot air of instant ramen breezes through his face.

“Oh?” Connie blinks. “Guess we aren’t the first ones here then.” He whistles.

“(Y/N)!” Armin nudges you in the arm in an attempt to tease you. “Guess your wish came true huh? We did see him again! By himself too!”

“W-what am I supposed to do exactly?” You turn to Armin, speaking in a hushed whisper.  

“Say thank you to him! Offer him to go on a boba date or something!”

“You got the Sasha seal of approval (Y/N)! He’s hot!” Sasha motions you a thumbs up and you can’t help but feel yourself already wanting to die of embarrassment.

The four of them slightly push you towards his table. With your friends cornering you like this, there was no way of escaping this.

All you had to do was talk to him and properly thank him for buying cookies from your little sister.

That was it.

No need for any extra ad-libs or poor and bad attempts of flirtation.

Just thank him (Y/N).

You can do this.

You breathe a hefty sigh then approach his table with confidence. The brunette continues to look up at you whilst turning the page of his reviewer that he wasn’t even looking at.

“Hi again! I just wanted to thank you properly for helping my sister and I, out the other day. Mikasa really appreciated the gesture you did for her, and she couldn’t stop talking about you to our parents since we saw you. You see, none of the other girl scouts want to be paired up with my sister because they think she’s an emotionless and monotonous freak. They’re really mean to her but she really wants to continue being a girl scout so my friend and I accompany her whenever she has to sell cookies!”

“It’s N-no problem!” Eren quickly replies, running a hand through his hair. “Why would they say such horrible things to your sister like that? Judging from the way she acted in front of me, she was quite the opposite. In a positive way of course! Those kids are just assholes who are intimidated because another girl their age is seemingly better than them.”

You giggle in response. “Thank you. I’ll tell Mikasa that you said that!” 

There was short silence for a few seconds until you realized that you forgot to say something. 

“Ah! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) by the way!”

“Eren.” He smiles, reaching his hand out to you for you to shake. You grip his strong and calloused hand firmly, and Eren could feel his ears turning red again while you were about to blush as red as a tomato.

You hear your friends snickering in the background and you took this as a sign to go back to your table. “I guess, I’ll see you around campus?” You ask, tilting your head. For, you actually really wanted to see him again after this.

“Yea! I’ll be seeing you!” He grins widely, watching you leave where he was seated. His smile then envelops into a frown as soon as you went away then he goes back to studying.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Connie whispers loudly, calling you over by waving his hand. Why was this dunce being so painfully obvious? “Ask him if he’s looking for an apartment or if he wants to live with us!”

“Already!?” You ask in disbelief, a bit shocked by what Connie had just said. He scoots to the left, as you take a seat between him and Sasha. “Guys, you’ve known him for like… 3 minutes. Only Armin and I actually interacted with him before this.”

“He has to pass the vibe check first.” Jean shrugs, sipping on an iced expresso. “But, yeah, he does seem alright from a few feet away.”

“Come on (Y/N)! Ask him!” Sasha nods approvingly. “It’s weird that he’s studying alone like this while we’re in another table trying to remain unaware that he looks lonely as hell.”

“UMmMM… maybe he wants to study alone because that’s the only way he can focus? That’s a thing that normal people do, Sasha.” You remark sarcastically, trying to think up of more reasons to not approach him again.

Armin clears his throat, “Look, (Y/N), it won’t hurt to try right? Besides, don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for him? He does seem lonely and you do have a crush on him so… more ways to interact with him right?”

Your shoulders slump and you breathe a defeated sigh. “Okay okay fine.” You make your way to Eren’s table again but before you do, you turn to your friends. “By the way, I don’t really have a crush on him just yet. I just find him cute okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” They say in unison as you continue to walk back to the brunette’s table.

“Hi again Eren!” You wave and try your best not to fumble or look painfully obvious that you were infatuated by him. He looks up and you try your best not to smile like a weirdo.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Would you like to come over to our table and study with us?”

To be continued.

[estudos-sociais]

How to Make Friends

A few weeks ago, I got a note from a reader named Amanda Schockling. She wrote, “I’ve been out of college for 3 years now and my question is this: How do you make meaningful friendships and connections as an adult?”

It’s a good question, but I didn’t know how to answer it. After I graduated, I moved to D.C. for a new job. It was a really tough year that turned into three tough years. I met friends through work, but never felt like I found my people. I discovered that I loved yoga, but never found a community there, probably because you don’t talk during yoga. Maybe if I’d read this, things would have turned out differently.

There’s no one way to make a friend, but there are definitely things you can do to try. I asked The Edit contributors and some co-workers from around The Times if they’d ever had trouble making friends and if they had any advice. Here’s what they said:

If you’re looking for a cheat sheet Jazmine Hughes, associate editor for The New York Times Magazine Making friends is actually quite simple; most people are flattered that someone cool (that would be you, taking my advice) wants to befriend them. If there is a person in your workplace, church group or running club that sets off Potential Friend sirens in your head, here’s what you do:

1) Become a person who is comfortable spouting non-sequiturs. Friendship starts by talking, which means that someone has to start talking! Comment on the weather, or the smell of the room, or something on TV last night … regularly. It’s pleasant to make conversation about something light. Just talk about Beyoncé!

2) Then, once you have built up a rapport with your Potential Friend, you have to DTT: Divulge To Them. Share a very tiny secret, like you have cramps or you’re hung over or you accidentally voted for Bush. This is step one to building trust.

3) The next step is crucial! After you DTT, wait a period of time, and then refer back to the thing you divulged to them! You are creating an inside joke. THE FOUNDATION OF FRIENDSHIP.

4) And finally, you have to ask them to hang out with you one on one. And then again, 2-6 weeks later. Then they should get the hint and ask you to hang out, too. Now you are friends. Congrats!

If you’re in college Kevin Liao, contributor to The Edit When I first got to college, I immediately felt an unshakable isolation. “I must be doing something wrong,” I thought. But I soon found comfort in my dorm’s RAs, who assured me this was a normal part of being at a new school. And while they didn’t magically cure my loneliness, they definitely helped me live with the feeling.

Lauretta Charlton, Race/Related editor I went the University of San Francisco, but my best friends from college went to other schools in the Bay Area. What brought us together was music. I went to shows every week — Bottom of the Hill, the Fillmore, Great American Music Hall — and that’s were I found my crew. There were times when I went to shows alone, and that was hard. But once the band started playing, I forgot about how embarrassed I was to show up solo. Music brings people together.

Hallie Reed, contributor to The Edit In high school I had a hard time making friends, so I tried to make it easier on myself in college. I chose a college with small classes. I pledged a sorority so I would have built-in social activities. I joined the crew team so that exercising would be social, too. It’s gone a lot better than high school so far, but there’s still moments of loneliness even in my sophomore year.

Claire Haug, contributor to The Edit What they don’t tell you when you’re filling out your college applications is that college is an inherently lonely experience. So much of your college life is spent alone, whether it’s studying or doing errands or just watching a movie by yourself on a Friday night because none of your friends’ schedules line up. One of the most valuable things I’ve learned in college so far is how to be alone without being lonely.

If you’re starting a new job Caity Weaver, writer for The New York Times Magazine and Styles The best way to make friends is to be curious about people. This doesn’t mean you should say “Tell me about yourself!” to everyone you meet — that’s disgusting. When you start a new job, transmit the message that you are friendly by peppering co-workers with bite-sized questions about their lives and jobs. Most people will think you have demonstrated good taste by being interested in them. If they give you one word answers, or avoid eye contact, they aren’t looking to make a friend right now. Move on.

John-Michael Murphy, software engineer I worked my first job in a small college town in North Carolina. While there were a lot of young college students around, there weren’t many young professionals in my same stage of life. Being gay in a conservative state added another wrinkle. I never found a group of friends like I had in college. Instead, I wove a fabric of unconventional friendships, many which I still maintain. I made friends with local musicians and scheduled coffee with professors on campus. I found these friends when I stopped looking for people who shared my age and interests and when I stopped letting fear of embarrassment or awkwardness get in the way. Scheduling phone calls with my long-distance friends helped. So did widening the radius on dating apps.

If you just moved Sopan Deb, culture reporter Shortly after I graduated from Boston University in 2010, I moved to New York and started working as an assistant producer at NBC’s “Rock Center with Brian Williams.” I wasn’t the happiest person in the world at the job, namely because the show’s low ratings meant it could get canceled at any second, which is, uh, what happened.

But leading up to the unceremonious axing, it was a stressful experience. Add in a painful break up with my college girlfriend, my head wasn’t in a good place. I needed to find something to help take the edge off.

I took an improv class.

There are two things I recommend to every 20-something year old. Take an improv class and see a therapist. Even if you feel like you’re very mentally in touch with yourself, it’s helpful to talk through things with someone.

And improv is an incredible experience. You get to create new worlds out of nothing. It’s such a social experience that you can’t help but make friends. And even if you don’t, you’re laughing the whole time. And when you are a recently-graduated young professional, experiencing being on your own in a brutal city like New York, you can’t ask for too much more.

Stine Dahlberg, managing director of brand marketing I have a habit of relocating, having done so nine times in 15 years. When I moved to New York a year ago I decided to see it as a catalyst for doing things I’ve never tried before. Continuing Education classes were a great way to meet new people and I got to try new things like graphic design or drawing. Many companies have HR budgets to fund that, use them! And if you can, find a co-working or community space with events and talks. I’ve met so many amazing women at The Wing.

Tim Hatton, contributor to The Edit After four years of living with roommates, I came into this summer terrified to have an apartment to myself and an internship in a cubicle. That’s not to say I don’t like being alone. I do, but I also know that means I’m always at risk of isolating myself. It’s been important to plan ahead and actively make time to spend with other people.

If you’re just getting older Robbie Harms, contributor to The Edit I teach fifth grade, and I often envy how easily friendships form among 10 year olds. Four square, Fortnite, food — all of these can spark conversation. Heck, the mere act of sitting next to the same person for five-plus hours a day is bound to produce at least a few friendships.

In the post-college years, I’ve learned that there is no secret formula, no three-step process that results in an impressive social circle. Instead, I’ve found it’s best to keep it simple: Be kind and approachable. At least, that’s what I’ve learned from my fifth graders.

Claire O’Neill, art director for NYT Climate In some ways, the older you get the harder it seems — when you’re way less physically capable of all-nighters and way too busy for the hours-on-end hangs like you had in college. Over the years, though, I’ve found that all it really takes is one good friend. Someone who you can be totally yourself around, riff and grow with. The click is fast and natural with a person who just gets you, and who you get in return. It’s also way more comforting and rewarding than a big circle of acquaintances who keep you busy, but maybe a little less grounded.

Ian Caveny, contributor to The Edit My wife and I have started a practice we call The Friendship Meal. What happens is something like this: we take a person or a couple and invite them to come have dinner with us. It’s almost always a disorienting thing to begin with — we don’t know them, they don’t know us, and everyone’s pretty shy. And sometimes the meals stay there: shyness and lack of connection, we eat and go separate ways. But sometimes that special spark happens, and, all-of-a-sudden, the conversations last for hours. And that makes the risk worth it!

Have you ever struggled to make friends? Do you have any advice for how to get through it? We want to hear from you. Email us at theedit@NYTimes.com with the subject line “Friends” and we’ll share some of your answers in the future. Please include your full name and location.

[blossomingimagines]

Icarus

Harley Quinn x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,703

Summary: Like Icarus she had flown too close to the sun and fell-- though you were certain the fall Icarus suffered from wasn't a descent into madness. It was unfortunate that she had always been your own sun. Always pulling you in no matter how far you may go to escape. You just hope you won't get too close this time. As you were sure this fall would be the greatest of all.

Notes: I saw this idea floating about and decided to give it a try. Hopefully it isn't too disappointing for you all. This is going to be left open-ended in case you all want more in this universe, which I don't know if you will. (You knew Harley Quinn before she was Harley Quinn. You were rivals, in whatever capacity, and she always beat you. Until suddenly you were her therapist at Arkham.)

I also got the idea from @kiraimagine. (Wanted to give credit where credit is due as this idea was a really good one and I enjoyed writing it.)

Warnings: Mental illnesses as depicted in Arkham.

The tale of Icarus was one that you were familiar with. How he had dreamed of something for his entire life and that had ended up being his downfall. Flying too close to the sun, despite the many warnings beforehand, and his plummet back to Earth. It was a tale that you associated with personally. For you were Icarus-- wanting something so bad that you would do anything to achieve it. No matter how far you would fall because of it.

Harleen Quinzel was your sun.

You had known her for most of your life. Meeting on the playground at the start of fifth grade-- you had tripped over something and ended up sprawled in front of her and her friends. Her golden-white locks pulled back into a loose ponytail as she stood above you. Her blue eyes mocking as she took in your expression. You had scrambled to your feet with fumbling apologies escaping your mouth. Your face became as red as the shirt she had been wearing. Despite your efforts, however pathetic they may have been, she had barely given you a second glance before walking away. Her ever-loyal posse following along like lap dogs. And, even as you turned to head back towards your friends, you couldn’t get her bright blue eyes out of your head. Making you feel like you were falling all over again. 

From then on a rivalry was born between the two of you-- whether you were aware of it or not. You were a person that wasn’t even in the same galaxy as her radar and suddenly you became the direct center of it. Whatever things you took interest in, Harleen always followed. Of course, it always looked like a complete coincidence that she ended up taking the same courses as you. Always excelling at everything she put her mind to-- you in a close second. 

Even as you aged, going from knobby-kneed kids to maturing teenagers, Harleen had made it her mission in life to always one-up you. To always make sure that she was around no matter what. The first day of your sophomore year had been a clear indicator of that fact.

The crowded hallways of Gotham High were roaring with life. From incoming freshmen that were trying to get their bearings to returning seniors that were establishing their claim as the rulers of the school. You just rolled your eyes at all the showboating that was going on as you made your way to your locker. A hand clutching on your bag as you were jostled for the millionth time by a football player. 

Finally catching sight of your locker was like a breath of fresh air. A small sliver of sanctuary that you needed within the bustling halls. However, as quickly as the happy feeling appeared it vanished without a trace at the sight of the woman leaning against the locker adjacent to yours. 

Harleen Quinzel-- in all her glory. 

Light blonde hair falling loosely past her shoulders. Painted lips pulled into a smirk as she listened to the jock standing before her. Though you could clearly tell she wasn’t actually listening. As her, normally sharp blue eyes were dull at the incessant rambling of the boy. 

Hoping that you could quickly open your locker and deposit everything before she noticed, you slowly made your way towards them. Seeing that she was still distracted by the jock, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. Glad that at least something was going your way today. 

You shouldn’t have celebrated so early. 

The moment you made contact with your lock a perfectly manicured hand appeared on top of yours. Your heart-stopping at the feeling of her smooth skin on yours. Your wide eyes meeting her devious blue as she smirked at you. Numbly you noted that they were once again the sparkling blue that you were so familiar with. Though you couldn’t find it within yourself to celebrate the fact. Not when she was leaning towards you ever-so-slightly. 

“Y/N,” she purrs. “I was wondering when you were going to show up. The school is not the same with my best girl gone.”

For a moment you actually think she cared for your wellbeing, but the glimmer in her eyes made you think otherwise. Your lips thin into a line as your annoyance grows. You didn’t think you had the patience to deal with her today. 

“What do you want, Harleen?” 

A faux look of hurt flashed across her face. “I’m wounded that you think I need something from you, Y/N.” Her other hand rubs your arm-- you try to desperately ignore the goosebumps that appeared because of the action. Though you were certain she was aware of it-- if the look on her face was anything to go by. “I was just wondering if you knew that we were both in the same AP classes?”

Your stomach drops at the news. Her devious smile only causes your nerves to fray even more. “How? I changed my schedule three times.” 

Harleen shrugs. “Looks like it was a match made in heaven.” 

You shake your head with a frown starting to furrow your brow. “No, I know you did something. There’s no way we accidentally ended up in the same classes again.” Your annoyed gaze meets her amused one. “Why? Why do you like doing this to me? Don’t you have better things to do?” 

At your questions, her smile falls from her lips. A sharp look flashing across her face as she leaned closer to you-- almost to the point of her nose brushing against yours. You wanted to take a step back but the hand on your bicep stopped you. You had never seen Harleen look so angry before. Even if she wasn’t completely showing you everything she was feeling. You could tell by the darkening of her eyes-- an almost desperate quality hiding underneath. 

“I think you know exactly why I do what I do,” she hisses. “You just refuse to see what’s standing right in front of you. You choose to be blind to everything.”

Her voice elevates slightly towards the end of her sentence. An almost shrill quality to her tone that you had never heard before. It causes a small wince to flash across your face. Your eyes glancing towards the other occupants of the hallway. You didn’t want anyone to be listening in on this… whatever this was.

Harleen, noticing where your attention had diverted to, seems to pull herself together as she takes a step back from you. Her hand finally releasing your bicep out of the death grip she had imprisoned it in. Though the same darkened expression in her eyes remained even as she smiled at you.

“But that’s no matter,” she continues in a calmer tone. As if her outburst had never happened. “Just know that until you realize what you’ve been blind to I’ll always be here.” Harleen inclines her head ever-so-slightly towards you, her voice dropping into a whisper. “Nothing will ever be better than that.”

Then she was gone. 

Only leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and the confused feeling in your very soul. 

Even now you still had no idea what she had meant. High school passed you by in the same manner as your other school years. In a standoff with Harleen Quinzel for the top student position, which she won by barely a point. Not that you were too surprised she beat you at that too. No matter how egotistical she may be, you could admit that she was highly intelligent. In another life, you could even see yourself being friends with her. If only life had turned out slightly differently for you both… 

College seemed to be the only reprieve you were ever going to get from her. So you were excited to apply to as many as you could. Wanting to have as many options to choose from as possible. Anything to minimize the chance of Harleen choosing the same one-- even if deep in your heart you wanted nothing more than for her to do just that. 

Learning at graduation that she was going to Metropolis for school had been a shock. As you had been deliberating going there as well. That was before your mother got sick and you decided to stay in Gotham, however. A fact that you didn’t think twice about sharing with Harleen. 

Sometimes you look back at the night and curse yourself for opening your mouth. 

The party was already in full swing as you stepped into the house. Loud music blaring through the speakers. The sound waves caused the very house to shake. It was lucky that the host of the party lived so far away from anyone else. It wouldn’t do to have the party shut down by what was left of Gotham’s police force. Moving deeper into the party, you bypass throngs of people dancing to the beat of the song and random couples that were lost in each other. Your eyes scan the room for a quieter place that you could just rest in until the rest of your friends arrived. 

Thankfully, the search didn’t take that long as you quickly found a relatively abandoned corner. You gratefully lean against a wall once you reach it. Thankful that you had been able to find a spot that you could hide away in. As the party scene had never been a place you thrived in. Rolling your neck, you try to get rid of some of the tension that had settled over your shoulders from the past few days. Things at home were only getting more complicated but you know you made the right decision in deciding to stay. Even if Metropolis would have been a hell of a lot nicer than Gotham. 

Movement from in front of you causes your eyes to widen as a solo cup is thrust into your hands. The flimsy plastic bending in your hands as you stared at the woman who had given it to you. Your mouth pressing into a thin line at the sight of her devious smirk. 

Harleen Quinzel, of course. 

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Harleen,” you sigh. “Why don’t you go hang out with your friends and leave me alone?”

Harleen pouts. “But you’re my best girl, Y/N. Why would I leave you all alone?”

“Because your friends are probably looking for you.” You try to offer in hopes that she would just leave you alone. You didn’t feel like hearing her gloat about getting the valedictorian spot. Her laughter was not the response you were expecting, however. 

“Oh, Y/N/N, what am I going to do with you?” She asks but you’re sure it was rhetorical. Though at your continued silence her eyes flash with annoyance. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

You sigh, Harleen and her mind games were not what you signed up for when you agreed to come to the party. “I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be getting, Harleen. Maybe if you actually told me then I might.”

She grins at you. “Now where’s the fun in that?” Her head tilts ever-so-slightly as she appraises you. As if she suddenly realized that you were wearing a low-cut dress-- courtesy of your best friend. Her blue eyes shone with varying emotions that you couldn’t even begin to decipher. Though they soon snapped back up to your face as if she suddenly realized something. “But that doesn’t matter really. I’m certain you’ll figure it out when we’re in college.”

Her words make your stomach drop. “What?” 

“When we’re in college, Y/N.” Harleen drawls. “You know the place where we’re going to be going for the next four years?”

“What do you mean we?” 

Her laughter, once again, catches you off guard. “Didn’t you know? We’re going to be going to the same college. I heard through the grapevine that we both got accepted to Metropolis University. Go Sharks.” 

You frown, your next words coming out before you could even think. “But I’m not going to Metropolis University.” 

Harleen completely freezes at that. Her eyes turn razor-sharp as the smile falls from her face. “What?”

You gulp. “I’m not going to Metropolis University, Harleen. I was but then some personal issues came up so I’ve decided to stay in Gotham.” You shrug with a rueful smile pulling at your lips. “I’m going to Gotham University. So it looks like I’m going to be a Nighthawk and you’re going to be a Shark.”

The smile falls from your face, however, at the look, Harleen gives you because of the joke. Her expression darkened even more as each second ticked by. Only the call of her name from her friends pulled her attention from you-- though she seemed more annoyed at the interruption. Thinking about the quickest escape routes you could take, to hell with your friends, you begin to shift away from the wall. Only to have Harleen suddenly grab both of your forearms and yank you towards her. Your face almost smashed against hers as she held you. Her voice coming out in a low whisper.

“We’ll see about that.” 

Before you could react, her lips pressed against yours in a brief kiss before she was gone. 

Only the scent of her perfume and the feel of her on your lips remaining. 

You hadn’t been surprised that come fall she had appeared in your lecture hall. Her ever-present smirk flashing towards you as she took her seat a few rows in front of you. You weren’t even surprised that she had taken the same major as you. After all, you both had always been eerily similar in your interests in that regard. 

Sometimes you wish you had chosen something else. 

Anything else. 

That’s all that could run through your mind as you made your way down darkened halls. Your heels clicking against the floor with a resounding presence that almost made you wince. The faint moans of the criminally insane echo from deeper recesses in the building. You try to not tense at the sounds. Your armed escort led you down various halls and security checkpoints before you finally reached your destination. 

A door, plain as all the others, stood between you and the reason you had returned to Gotham. You didn’t want to, God did you not want to, but getting a call from Mayor Hill had changed things. You had met the man on several occasions and you had never even considered the possibility of him begging anyone. Hearing the desperate plea within his words flashed you back to a time when your mother was still alive. When there wasn’t a giant bat protecting the streets of Gotham. You hadn’t had the heart to decline.

Even if you wish you had now. 

Turning to one of the guards stationed at the door, you nod. Steeling yourself for what you are about to witness. Your back straightened as your hands tightened on the various files you were holding. Your resolve only wavering as you stepped into the room. Your eyes take in the large abundance of space that surrounds the single cage in the direct center of the room. A single figure entwined with silk in the middle of it. 

Moving down the staircase, you try to ignore the way the figure's burning gaze followed you. The intensity behind it is both so familiar and completely foreign. Standing directly before the cage, you finally are close enough to the figure to see the way burning blue eyes took in every small aspect of you. A familiar smirk began to make its way onto her face when she finally met your gaze with hers. 

“There’s my best girl.” A grin takes the place of her smirk. A sight that causes your heart to lurch in your chest. Yet another reminder of why you didn’t want to come back to Gotham. Why you never wanted to return to the place that had taken everything from you. “I was wondering when you were going to visit me.”

“Hello, Harleen.”

[blueskrugs]

Tim McGraw | Brock Boeser

ahhhh! this is the first fic of the swift series! I can’t believe I am actually going to try and pull this off for the next five months. I hope you guys like it and big shoutout to @broadstbroskis for being my sounding board throughout all this fic planning and then beta-ing this!

length: 1.6k words

But when you think Tim McGraw,  I hope you think my favorite song

Falling in love with Brock was easy. 

It was the summer before your sophomore year of college, on the precipice of both your lives changing, though neither of you knew it at the time. 

Time seemed to move slower that summer, long sunny days blending into bonfire nights out by the lake, September nothing more than a distant day on the calendar. You watched as Brock’s hair turned more blond and his shoulders turned more tan, hours outside in the sun doing their job. 

You remembered the first time Brock kissed you; you weren’t sure it was something you’d ever forget. You’d spent weeks dancing around each other, learning each other, had spent an entire Fourth of July party practically glued to each other’s sides. It seemed more than inevitable by the time it finally happened.

He called you late one night, woke you up and begged you to meet him down at the lakefront. You went, because of course you did, met him down at the dock, where he was waiting with a pile of blankets in the speedboat his family used. He tossed you one of his UND hoodies with a grin before helping you onto the boat. You settled into the nest of blankets in the prow as Brock carefully steered the boat out from the dock and into the middle of the lake. 

It was a clear night, the stars and the full moon shining brightly against the still, dark lake, and a quiet one. The only sounds filling the air were the quiet hum of the boat’s motor and Brock’s country playlist playing quietly from his phone, neither quite loud enough to drown out the constant buzz of the cicadas. 

Brock cut the motor and came to sit behind you. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He was warm and solid behind you, and you were both quiet for a moment, just listening to the music.

“This is one of my favorite songs,” you murmured, as Tim McGraw’s “Humble and Kind” started filtering through the speakers.

“I know,” Brock said simply. You didn’t remember telling him that. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, steady and calm. 

You were caught up in trying to remember when you’d told Brock your favorite song when he shifted a little behind you. You twisted in his arms to see what was the matter, but then he was kissing you, softly in the moonlight, and you didn’t get the chance.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted after he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. His breath fanned across your face when he breathed out a sigh. Tim McGraw was still playing somewhere behind you.

“I would’ve let you,” you said back.

Brock breathed out a laugh and kissed you again, one hand tangled in your hair, the other still wrapped around your waist.

And I was right there beside him all summer long,  And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone

For all that that summer seemed endless while it was happening, it ended abruptly, shattering the peaceful love you and Brock had been building out on the lake. 

You snuck out one last time, both of you dressed in something other than a swimsuit for once, spent the night in each other’s arms with your bare feet dangling in the lake off the dock, the stars and the moon lighting your way once again.

You weren’t sure you’d ever look at the summer stars the same way when you were older.

Brock went back to UND. Your family moved away from Minnesota. Summer romances were never meant to last, you told yourself, as you left yours in the dust.

Brock promised he would keep in touch, pressed a green UND hoodie into your hands and a goodbye kiss to your lips. You smiled at him, because you knew it would never last, and it didn’t. Brock had other things to focus on, hockey and his future. It was only a matter of time until he forgot you. 

You spent a lot of time wearing that hoodie he gave you in the beginning, more time than you cared to admit. You spent more time crying than you cared to admit, too. You kept wearing it long after it stopped smelling like Brock and summer, until it was almost nothing to you and the comfort of it was gone. Almost.

Brock’s texts trickled to a stop before Christmas, but you couldn’t blame him. You’d always had a feeling that this– whatever this had been– had meant more to you than it had to him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop following him, though, not even when your friends and family gave you pitying looks, not when UND got booted out of the championship tournament. “He’s just a boy,” they’d say, but they also say you never forget your first love, don’t they? You watched his first NHL game, at home in Minnesota, his first NHL goal, too. And if you cried a little, well, at least there was no else around to see it. 

Years passed, and, slowly, you moved on. Brock’s sweatshirt made its way to the back of your closet. You fell in love again, fell out of love. Stopped loving Brock. You graduated college. You never did go back to the lake, wondered if Brock ever had. If he’d waited for you, or if he’d moved in and found another girl to spend the summer with. For the most part, you forgot about Brock. Forgot about his laugh, about the way he’d roll his eyes when you teased him. How he knew your favorite songs. You did your best to, at least. It was easier said than done for a long time.

But in a box beneath my bed, there’s a letter that you never read from three summers back It’s hard not to find it all a little bittersweet...

You were cleaning out your old bedroom at your parents’ house when you found it. It was a letter you’d written to Brock after that summer, when you were confused and lonely, filled with all the things that you didn’t have the courage to say to his face. It was in an envelope, addressed and stamped, but you’d never planned on sending it. In all the chaos of moving that fall, it had gotten thrown in a box and shoved under your bed to be forgotten. 

You remembered every word you’d written, but you carefully pulled it out anyway. You read that letter again and again over the next few days, always pausing on the last words you wrote before you signed your name: “I love you.”

It was another several days before you pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a pen, wrote a continuation to that letter. You’d loved Brock once, yes, but you didn’t anymore, not in the same way. There were no tears left in this story. He’d always be your first love, and you’d always want the best for him. You just no longer felt your heart break every time you thought of him, and you hadn’t for a long time. 

You hoped that he was happy out there in Vancouver, living his dream.

And there’s a letter left on your doorstep, And the first thing that you’ll read...

“Brock, there’s a letter for you!” his mom called through the house.

“Who sends letters anymore?” he asked, which earned him a smack with the envelope. He took it from his mom anyway. The return address was unfamiliar, out-of-state, and there was no name, but he felt like he’d seen the handwriting somewhere before. He took the envelope out on the back deck with Coolie, carefully slid his thumb under the flap and opened it.

A picture slid out from in-between two folded pieces of paper when he tugged them out. It took only a quick glance at it to tell him exactly who had sent him this letter. It was a picture of the two of you at that Fourth of July party you’d spent together all those summers ago. Brock had spent the entire day trying not to kiss you right there in front of everyone.

Brock smiled at the picture for a moment. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, your hands reaching up to grasp his. You were both laughing at some joke long forgotten. He didn’t even remember anyone taking the picture. He carefully set it aside to turn his attention to the letter. He read in silence as the afternoon sun slowly dipped lower in the sky. Coolie was off somewhere in the grass, having found a stick to chew on.

Brock read the letter, then again. He stared at your name on the bottom of each page for a minute before carefully refolding them. He whistled once for Coolie, who came running, still carrying the stick. 

“Where are you off to?” his mom asked as he made his way back into the house and grabbed his car keys.

“For a drive.”

When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think of me

The letter was tossed in his glovebox. Brock plugged in his aux, pulled up Spotify, and scrolled all the way down to his country playlist. There was a song on there he didn’t listen to very often, could never really explain why he always skipped it, but right now he clicked on it and turned the volume up.

“Always stay humble and kind,” sang Tim McGraw as he put his car and drive and allowed himself to remember, just this once.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

-------------------------------------------------

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

---------------------------------------

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

-------------------------------------------------

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[luxekook]

prologue.

⇥ pairing: taehyung x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 1.8k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, deception, taehyung with blue hair (aka LETHAL)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

PROLOGUE

Spring of Sophomore Year - 11:52pm

"If it gets any hotter in here, we'd need jackets to enter the fucking gates of Hades."

My stellar observation goes by unappreciated, but I'm not shocked. The music thumps heavily through the house at a deafening decibel and the only methods of communication are screaming or sign language - I had done neither.

Earlier, when my roommate Luna told me about this particular party, I had hesitations for several reasons:

This party is being held at the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) house - a house known for its wild parties, excessive drinking, and dangerously attractive brothers.

I am not a huge fan of the aforementioned features or the trouble that always seems to accompany them.

It's Harry Potter Weekend and I am going to miss the fucking Goblet of Fire for this.

Long story short, Luna convinced me to go with her with promises of pizza and our own Harry Potter marathon tomorrow. Her promises in mind, I square my shoulders and motion for Luna to follow me to the slightly quieter kitchen on the other side of the living room.

As we cross the crowded room, Luna tugs on my wrist and tilts her head subtly towards the corner where four very large, very attractive guys are playing a rowdy game of beer pong, while three (equally attractive) others lounge against the wall watching. Taking a closer look, I notice that the two at the far end of the table seem to be winning. The one with light pink hair takes his shot and curses loudly when he misses. Annoyed, the other shoves him out of the way, lines up to shoot, and pauses. Our eyes meet.

A shiver runs down my spine as his dark gaze rests on me. His jaw is clenched and chiseled, his lips are set firmly but wickedly full. His black t-shirt stretches over wide, solid shoulders and I can almost make out the muscles that ripple beneath. His right arm is still poised to take his shot, and I can't help but notice how his bicep strains the fabric of his sleeve and how his large, tanned hand completely dwarfs the pong ball.

I barely remember to breathe as I realize his gaze is making his own assessment of me. I can feel his dark eyes rake over me, and it makes my skin buzz. His eyes trail over my black crop top down to my ripped black jeans, and blatantly checks out my legs.

Suddenly, his pink-haired partner elbows him, shattering our little moment. Shakily taking a breath, I turn to Luna who has an eyebrow raised at me. She grabs my hand and practically drags me into the kitchen. I sip my drink and fight the urge to look back.

The minute we enter the mostly empty kitchen, Luna whips around to face me, "Were you just openly eye-fucking Kim Taehyung, (y/n)?" I choke on my beer.

"Who?" I croak, still coughing to clear my windpipe of what I'm certain is shitty Natty Light. Rolling her eyes, Luna shakes her head at me like a disappointed parent, "Kim Taehyung. You know, the pledge master for BTS? Was just with his frat brother Park Jimin?"

She pauses dramatically, seeming to be waiting for some kind of response. I stare at her blankly.

Scoffing, Luna continues, "They were the ones playing pong just now, dumbass. The blue-haired one is Taehyung. You know, the one you were mentally undressing-"

"Okay," I cut her off, "I'm sorry to say that I haven't paid much attention to the members of our 'legendary' fraternities."

Pretending like I never interrupted, she resumes, "-with your eyes. Everyone knows who they are. You just live under a rock that you call the library..."

I close my eyes and pray for deliverance as Luna trails off.

"Can I get you another drink?" A deep voice definitely not belonging to Luna breaks the short silence. Opening my eyes, my vision focuses on the voice's source – a cute BTS pledge. His eyes are focused entirely on Luna, who suddenly seems unnaturally shy. She sends me a searching look, and I nod in response. Smiling, she turns back to the boy, "Yeah, I'm Luna by the way, and this is (y/n)."

“Jaehyun," he answers, giving me a head tilt while placing a palm on Luna's back. He slowly guides her from the kitchen towards where the keg was in the living room. Sending a glance over her shoulder, Luna meets my eyes and I wave my phone at her as a silent reminder to update me. She winks and disappears into the living room.

Sighing, I lift myself onto the kitchen counter to give my feet some reprieve from these heeled boots and reapply my blood red lipstick using my phone camera. Satisfied, I check the time.

12:01am. Not nearly late enough for Luna to want to leave - especially now...

Suddenly, a now-familiar buzz sizzles across my skin. Drawing my gaze up from my phone, two unopened cans of beer held by long, strong fingers meet my vision. I drag my eyes up past thick wrists and corded arms. Up goes my gaze past flexed biceps, across a broad chest, and finally my eyes meet his.

He looms over me, all broad and imposing.

"Hey," his husky voice - just slightly deeper, raspier than Jaehyun's - murmurs, "I'm Taehyung. I brought this for you."

Taehyung's intimidating; his stare is direct and unwavering. Heat rolls off him in waves, and if this party was hotter than hell, that must make him the devil.

Our fingers brush as I accept his slightly outstretched offering, and I swear I would feel the reoccurring zings for the next week. "Hey, thank you. I'm, uh..." I trail off, Taehyung's dark eyes staring at me from this close make me seem to lose all power of speech. God, do eyes that color really exist? Apparently, they do – deep brown mixed with flecks of amber, hypnotizing.

I clear my throat and try to force my last two brain cells to work together, "I'm (y/n)."

He's smirking slightly now, the gesture pulling forth the cutest flush of pink in his cheeks, "Nice to meet you, (y/n)." And I swear he says my name like he's caressing it, tasting it for the first time.

Damn, he's unholy. Where is my snarky, inner bad bitch when I need her?

"Did you win your game? Seems like you might have been a little... distracted," I smirk, there she is. I crack open my beer and revel in the emitting hiss.

A flicker of heat bursts through those brown eyes as he leans closer still, enveloping me with his intoxicating cologne. He smells like autumn woods with a hint of fresh lemon; he smells like trouble.

Taehyung sets his beer down and places his arms on either side of me - caging me in. "Things were going just fine 'til this girl came strutting through the room in some tight fucking jeans," his tongue flicks over his lower lip, "So, yeah, you could say I got a little distracted."

"I do not strut," I object, narrowing my eyes at him - daring him to contradict me.

He's undeterred, "Yeah, you do, jagi." His eyes are full of mirth and he's clearly enjoying getting a reaction from me, "It's hot."

I bristle, unsure if I should accept that 'compliment' at face value, "Does this work on most girls? You know, the whole cornering her while you give her lame compliments thing?"

He looks surprised for a second, but then his head tilts back and he lets out one of the most endearing laughs I've ever heard - all unrestrained and unabashed pleasure.

Still chuckling, he tilts his head, eyes darting all over my face - lingering on my lips, "Where did you come from, (y/n)?"

Within seconds we're making out like unsupervised high school students, right in the middle of the damn kitchen. I let out an embarrassing moan when he bites my bottom lip then sucks on it. Expertly coaxing my lips apart, his tongue meets mine in a feverish tangle while his hands grip my waist - pulling me into him.

The way that Kim Taehyung kisses is unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's hot and demandingly deliberate with a possessiveness that sends a ripple of electricity through me. I'm playing with fire, making out with him, but at this moment I can't find it in me to give a single fuck.

Blazing lips suck and bite at the side of my neck and –

"(y/n)?"

The franticly questioning voice draws nearer as I open my eyes and tear myself away from Taehyung's wicked mouth. Luna's there, peering around Taehyung's shoulder, and I can immediately tell that something is seriously wrong.

Shoving Taehyung away from me, I jump down from the counter and stumble - completely forgetting I was in three-inch heeled boots. Taehyung’s hands shoot out around my waist to stabilize me, "Whoa, easy there, (y/n)."

"Get your lecherous paws off her, Kim," my eyes dart to Luna, shocked at her tone but proud of her vocabulary, "(y/n), we have to go."

"What's going on?" I'm at a loss, and I hate it, "Are you okay? Where's Jaehyun? Do I need to chop his dick off?"

Taehyung lets out a choking sound beside me, but I pay him no mind - chicks before dicks, hoes before bros, besties before testes, etc. etc.

"What I'm planning is much worse," Luna mutters with a strange glint in here eye as she pulls me away from Taehyung and levels him with an icy stare, "Listen, Kim, I know all about your little task for the pledges. Seriously, forcing them to get with as many girls as possible before they get their letters? Are you that much of a chauvinistic asshole?"

I whip around to face Taehyung, who seems to have become intensely interested in his beer, "Is this true?" He says nothing. I stalk up to him, shoving a finger in his chest, "Is. It. True."

His beautiful, guilty eyes flicker up to meet mine, and my heart sinks.

"Fuck. You." My words come out as a whisper but are still vicious enough to make Taehyung stagger back.

With that, Luna and I stalk out of the party - heads held high and arms linked.

Returning to our dorm, we make a pact to avoid all frat boys and christen it with pizza. She never tells me how she found out about the stupid pledge task; I'm smart enough to know that she must have had her reasons.

But I wasn't smart enough to stop thinking about Kim Taehyung.

I played with fire.

I should have known I'd get burned.