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gukyi · 4 years ago

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the art of the rom-com | jjk

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

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as you can pick your teammate.

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

Shit.

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

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

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

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

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

Right above is your response to his comment.

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

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

Your fists tighten by your side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

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

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

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

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

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

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

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

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

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

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

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

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

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

Jungkook: miss you already <3

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

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

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

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

In a way, you suppose it kind of is.

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

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

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

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

Well, she’s got you there.

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

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

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

To: [email protected] From: y/[email protected] Subject: what the freak

Dear Professor Pollack,

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

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I can’t change partners?”

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

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

“That’s life,” she corrects.

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

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

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

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

“You’ll find a way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

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

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

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

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

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

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

Yeah, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“We’ll be the stars.”

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Of what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you in?”

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

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

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

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

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

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

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

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

You smile up at him.

“I guess we will.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say that about everything.”

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

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

And you?

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

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

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

“No reason,” you say, looking away.

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes.

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

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

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

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

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

Hopefully not.

“Sort of?”

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

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

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

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you?”

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

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

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

Can’t you?

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

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

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great,” you deadpan.

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

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

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

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

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says.

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

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

You don’t like the sound of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you explain what you mean by that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.”

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

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

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

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

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

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

You shake your head back at him.

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

It’s strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? About what?”

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

“Us?”

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

If he says so.

“Hey! Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments.

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

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

“Do you really need to do that here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talki—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” Jungkook says.

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

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

“I appreciate it,” you say.

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

Like you even have a choice.

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

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

It smells like him.

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

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

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?” You prompt.

“Promise.”

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

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

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

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

“So,” Jungkook echoes.

Silence.

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

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

“We already know each other.” You frown.

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

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

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

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

“Red,” Jungkook responds.

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

“What about you?”

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

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

“This project is different,” you insist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And let me love you, baby…”

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

“Let me love you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was that, Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re alright.”

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

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn.

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

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

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

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

Then, you take a seat right next to him.

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

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

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

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

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

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

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

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

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

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

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

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

“Thank God,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook clearly does not believe you. “Really? You still hate me? I’m sure you do.”

“Okay, I don’t hate you. But still,” you relent again. Perhaps you’re just being oddly soft today. Too lenient for your own good.

Jungkook grins, cheeks little round circles as his lips curve up. “I know you like me. You just can’t admit it to yourself, can you? Can’t take that blow to your dignity.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you chide.

“Who knows?” Jungkook tacks on, just to be extra annoying. “Maybe you’re actually starting to fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

Jungkook doesn’t ask the question the same way he’s asked all of the other ones. Doesn’t say it with a shit-eating grin on his face or that glint in his eyes. He’s asking because he’s curious. Curious if what he’s been doing has been working. Curious if this project is really accomplishing anything at all.

Funnily enough, you find yourself wondering the exact same thing.

Silent, you pausing for a moment to think, chewing on the inside of your lip. Jungkook’s looking back at you, lips curled upwards as he waits for a response. Ugh, you’ll just have to give it up. What else can you say? “I guess…” you begin, hesitating.

You aren’t sure why you’re so scared to respond. Maybe you’re just worried that things will change if you say something. If you tell him the truth.

But it’s just Jungkook. He’s sitting in front of you patiently, waiting for your answer. What could happen?

You confess. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

Even though this is not the first time you’ve ever been out on a “date” (you’re using that word tentatively), picking out what to wear isn’t any easier than the last time.

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

Ruby shrugs on the other end of the video call. Her phone is propped up on her desk as she works on something on her laptop, glancing over every now and then whenever you prompt her to respond. “Well, that depends. Do you wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“Then it might be too sexy,” Ruby says easily. “What are you even doing? I thought you didn’t go out on dates.”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, although you’re not exactly sure which of the two of you you’re trying to convince.

“You’re asking me what kind of sexy dress to wear for a night out with a guy. It’s a date,” Ruby reminds you, economical as always. “Who are you even going out with, anyway? You just called and asked me to pick between two dresses I have literally never seen you wear before.”

“That’s because I don’t go out on dates, which this is not,” you tell her, even expending the energy to stare into the camera to hammer your point home. “And it’s with Jungkook.”

Ruby shuts her laptop at that. You can hear the sound of her keyboard clacking as the lid hits them. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do I need to remind you that this is not a date and therefore, you don’t need to be acting like I just told you I’m getting married.” You frown at her. “It’s just for our movie. Jungkook wants me to dress nicely, though.”

“Wear that nice summer dress you have,” Ruby instructs instead, shooing away the two much sexier options you’re currently holding in your hands. “Just put tights on underneath if you’re cold.”

“This one?” You ask, shuffling through your closet until you produce the gingham dress, plaid a pale yellow that matches gold jewelry rather well.

“Yes, that one. I like that one,” Ruby says with a nod. “You look good in it.”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not appropriate.” You hesitate. It’s a cute dress, sure, but it seems too… casual. Too everyday. Jungkook’s taking you out to dinner, and no doubt he’s got something else planned for the rest of the evening.

“I mean, you did say you had no plans on fucking him tonight,” Ruby reminds you coarsely.

“I have no plans on fucking him at all,” you reiterate. “This is not a date. It is for our movie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby brushes you off with a wave of her hand. “Wear whatever you want, but I like your yellow dress the most. It looks really nice on you. And if it’s not a date, then neither you nor Jungkook should care.”

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up.

You end up wearing the yellow dress. Jungkook knocks on your apartment door just as you’re closing the clasp to your necklace, a gold choker your mother had gifted you for a birthday a couple of years ago. It’s nothing much. You grab a jacket on your way to answer the door, wrapping it around your figure as you twist the knob.

On the other side is Jungkook, all decked out in black jeans and a clean-cut leather jacket, the black ensemble striking against his warm-toned skin and bleached, blonde hair. You hate to admit it, but he actually does look rather good. For Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi—whoa,” Jungkook says, doing a little whistle when he sees you, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

“You, uh…” Jungkook stammers slightly, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. The movement lifts his arm up just enough for you to see the line of his waist, the seamlessness of his body. He’s always been rather fit. “You look nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you chide, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins.

You press a hand to your heart dramatically. “I’m touched.” You begin walking down the hallway of your small apartment building, feeling your hands brushing by your sides due to how skinny the corridor is. At least, that’s what you assume.

“Where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook opens the door to the passenger side of his car for you.

He winks, that same gleam in his eye. He grins something wicked. “Don’t you remember?” He asks. “It’s a secret.”

The secret turns out to be a small Italian restaurant on an off-road in the center of town, a family joint with those plaid red tablecloths and dark wooden chairs. You’d never heard of the place before tonight, but Jungkook insists that it’s delicious and says it has a four-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, which is obviously gospel when it comes to restaurants. It’s so empty that he even has room to prop up the camera a couple of tables away to get that wide-angle shot of the both of you, two souls in a tiny little restaurant, enjoying a night out on the town. You’re sure that by the time production and post-production rolls around you’ll edit out most of your dialogue, but you like the idea of keeping in snippets of the audio, overlaying the scene with a soft instrumental.

From a director’s point of view, of course. No other reason to romanticize your night with him.

It’s nice. Objectively, it’s definitely one of the more exciting things you’ve done in a while, even if it’s just a dinner out in town, away from campus. It’s new. Adventurous. Jungkook convinces you to try his vodka shrimp linguine and you offer up some of your truffle-flavored gnocchi, which he devours happily. One thing you do learn is that no matter how much time passes, no matter how much food is on his plate, Jungkook eats and eats and eats. He never seems to fill up. This is one of those restaurants that pile your bowls high with pasta, give you at least three servings, send you home with to-go packages that will last you for days, and he still somehow manages to eat every last bite. He even has some of your leftovers.

Jungkook pays because he insists and says that you shouldn’t fight on camera, which you have no choice but to agree to. However, you do look him up on Venmo and send him twenty dollars to cover your half of the bill, because the idea of him paying for you doesn’t sit right with you. It was fine with the coffee, a small token of repayment after spilling it all over you, but dinner just feels like too much. Like he’s carrying most of the weight and you aren’t shouldering enough. Like he’s putting in all of the effort and you are just bandwagoning off of him.

And partnerships aren’t supposed to be like that. Jungkook isn’t supposed to do all of the work. You aren’t supposed to do nothing. You and Jungkook may not agree on much but you both know that you are equals. That what you put in is what you get out.

It’s a lesson you think you learned too late, but you won’t make those mistakes again. You’ll get it right this time.

“That was nice,” Jungkook says after the dinner. You’re walking through the park just across the street now, the sun having set and the streetlamps illuminating your path. The city has strung up lights along the trees, draped them over the branches like stars, like snowflakes. It’s picturesque.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for taking me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“How did you discover that place?” You ask, just out of curiosity. It’s not exactly the kind of restaurant that would be front and center on Google.

“I went out on a date in freshman year there,” Jungkook admits, lips pursed awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Did it at least go well?” You ask, trying to be hopeful.

“If it did, do you think I’d still be here doing this with you?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised.

You chuckle to yourself. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ll find your person.”

“You actually believe in that stuff now?” Jungkook asks you, skeptical.

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You do. I don’t wanna ruin it for you. Your person’s out there somewhere.”

“How do you know I haven’t already found my person?”

You stop in the middle of the path, feet coming to a halt on the pavement. Jungkook looks at you and you look back at him, letting his question sink into your skin, etch itself into your thoughts. He’s asking you because he wants to know. He looks so genuine, so patient, like he’s trying to find an answer somewhere in your eyes but you can’t give him one.

“Wouldn��t you be able to tell when you did?”

Jungkook sighs. “I don’t know if it always works like that.”

You smile, soft and small. Musing, you say, “well, when you figure it out, let me know.”

“Do you think you’ve found your person?” Jungkook asks you.

“You know I don’t think about love like that,” you remind him.

“Well, how do you think about it?”

You gaze up at him once more, that same soft smile playing on your lips. Who is he to be asking you these questions, you wonder to yourself. What would the point be in answering him? It’s better if you just both moved on. Especially since stuff like this has no relevance to your project.

“I don’t really think about love at all,” you say curtly.

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook.

The look in your eyes is distant. “Yeah.” You wish you did, too.

“How about we do a couple of quick shots, right here?” Jungkook suggests, pulling out the camera. “Just here, the lighting’s nice.” He jogs back a couple of feet, lining himself up with where you stand, kneeling on the pavement with the camera held up to his eye.

“What do you want me to do?” You call to him, feeling like a fish out of water in front of the lens, thumbs twiddling.

“Just smile,” Jungkook requests simply. “Say hi to me.”

Sounds easy enough. Under the twinkling lights of the trees, in the haze of their warm yellow glow, you wave to Jungkook, smiling happily. You aren’t exactly sure what the purpose of these shots are, but you suppose you could always use some artistic frames in your movie. Grinning, you keep your eyes trained on him, on the way you can see him smiling back at you even from behind the camera. His eyes are covered, you can’t see those, but you hope they’re smiling too.

“Okay, my turn,” you say when a little too much time has passed, when it’s just past the point of filming for the sake of a movie and more for the sake of something else. “Get over here.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You scurry over to Jungkook, taking the camera from his hands and pushing in in the general direction of where you were just standing. Situating yourself, you kneel right where Jungkook was, bringing the camera to your eyes.

Through the lens, you can see the entire width of the pathway, the grass that borders it, the lights decorating the branches of the trees, and Jungkook, front and center. He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing there, waiting awkwardly as he gazes around, eyes drifting everywhere but exactly where you need them: you. He looks good like this, looks much taller, much more romantic. Like a real movie star. Like a model. His clothes make him blend in with the darkness of the night but his eyes are still shimmering, golden flecks twinkling, even from all the way over here.

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film.

Jungkook grins your way.

Afterwards, you give him his camera back and continue walking, turning the corner as you reach the edge of the park, ready to circle around the perimeter.

“How about we hold hands, too?”

“Excuse you?” You say, an eyebrow raised.

“Come on, just for a second,” Jungkook pleads. “For the artistry. I’ll film us holding hands like all those Los Angeles boys do in YouTube vlogs.”

You look at him suspiciously. Is he sure it’s just for the artistry? “What a great example.”

“Please? Promise I always put hand cream on,” Jungkook asks, bottom lip turned outwards.

It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him.

“Fine,” you cave rather easily this time around. “Just for a minute.”

“Excellent.”

Jungkook lifts the camera up to his eye with his right hand as he holds out his left, palm facing the sky as he waits for you to rest your own in his. You narrow your eyes to the camera before your gaze drifts downwards to his open hand, almost like you’re afraid it’s going to jump out and bite at you if you get any closer. But it won’t, because it’s a hand. And it won’t, because it’s just Jungkook.

The first thing you realize when your fingers intertwine with his is how big his hands are. They are massive. His left one dwarfs your own, wrapping around it securely, enveloping it like a king-sized comforter. The second thing you realize is how soft they are (he must not have been lying about the hand cream). The third thing you realize is the way they send sparks up and down your body, send tingles through your skin, shocks through your veins. You seize up a little bit at the feeling before your body finds it in itself to relax, letting the sensation wash over you like a wave from the ocean.

It’s new.

It’s strange.

You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Felt those sparks, those jolts of energy. Like lightning has struck.

Jungkook moves so that your hands are held out in front of you, making sure to adjust the lens just so he can get the exact right angle, but all you can focus on is the way your fingers interlock, the way your hand settles into his.

You wonder what that means.

The moment Jungkook lowers the camera you pull your hand away, overwhelmed and scared and shocked all at once. Like you’re afraid that if you reach out to him again, your whole body will freeze in place, shake like the wind.

Jungkook looks at you, concern lacing his features. “You alright?” He asks, genuine and worried.

You shake your head, willing those thoughts away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You get the shot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says.

“And how do they look?” You ask because you can’t help yourself. Because you just have to know.

Jungkook pauses, not sure how to respond. He chews on his lips like he’s running through all the possible answers, trying to figure out which one is right. You almost think he’s not going to reply at all, but then he smiles, and he says this:

“Magical.”

It feels weird for you to be arriving at Kim Taehyung’s door without Jungkook by your side. Doesn’t sit right in your stomach.

Of course, Taehyung is as hospitable as always, welcoming you inside with his signature warm grin as he sets up the bar stools by the bedsheet, which you assume he will just not take down until your project’s over. Hopefully he’s getting use out of it otherwise, shooting nudes or whatever it is he said he would do.

“Thanks for having me,” you say, resting your backpack against the foot of his couch as you set up the tripod, arranging it in just the right spot. It’s not Jungkook’s fancy camera that you’ve got with you, just your own from a couple years ago, but it’ll get the job done. You couldn’t ask Jungkook to borrow his, anyway. You’d pass away before he found out you did this.

“We might not use this footage,” you warn in advance. “I just figured it’s safer to film everything just in case.”

“Why wouldn’t you use it?” Taehyung asks, genuinely curious.

“Because I don’t know if this conversation will really have a point,” you say nervously, fingers fidgeting with the settings until everything’s just right.

“I’m sure it’ll be important,” Taehyung assures you. You’re not so confident. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes, everything’s all set up,” you say, concentrating on your breathing as you make your way to the stool. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Why are you so worried?

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling right now?” Taehyung begins.

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

“I… I don’t really know what direction I’m going in anymore for this project,” you say, letting yourself be candid and honest because it’s just Taehyung, and because you may not even use this footage, and because Jungkook’s not here. He doesn’t know you’ve asked Taehyung to do this for you. He doesn’t need to.

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer.

“How are you feeling about him?”

“I’m…” you don’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure. I just know that something’s changed.”

“Your feelings have changed?” Taehyung isn’t reacting, just asking questions in response to your answers and pretending that everything is normal, that this is just another interview.

“I guess they have,” you admit. Even just saying that feels like a weight off your chest. A small one, five pounds out of a thousand. But it’s a difference. “I… don’t really know how I feel about him anymore.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Taehyung told you he would ask tough questions, but you don’t know if you can answer these anymore.

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling yourself growing desperate with impatience. “I don’t feel the same things about him that I used to. He’s different to me now.”

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe you’ve changed, too?”

You frown, caught off-guard by his question. No, you haven’t. You haven’t thought about that at all. Why would you? Your stance is the same. Your opinions on love haven’t changed. And neither have your convictions about this project, about the way it will end.

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up.

“Well, I’m no expert, but I think there might be something between the two of you that wasn’t there before,” Taehyung says, nodding. “I think that the ways the two of you have changed have brought you together.”

“I don’t know about that…” You trail off. You can feel yourself growing hesitant again, pulling back from saying too much because you’ve never been a very good speaker. Because you’ve always preferred being behind the camera to being in front of it.

“Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?”

You scoff. At least that’s got an easy answer. A no-brainer. “No,” you say matter-of-factly, obvious because it is, stern because telling him was never an option anyway. Why else does Taehyung think you’re here without him? “Jungkook said he would get me to fall in love with him and I told him I would never. How could I ever let him think he was actually winning?”

Taehyung sighs.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since your class on Wednesday. Granted, it’s only Saturday, but it feels like it’s been a weirdly long time. Like you’re so used to him barging into your life on the daily that there’s something off about even going three days without seeing him. Maybe it’s just because you’re nearing the beginning of April and your project is finally picking up steam. Between the two of you, you almost definitely have more than two hour’s worth of footage, but the hard part will be paring it down and turning it into a forty-five minute documentary. No doubt you and Jungkook will be spending a lot of time together the week before it’s due.

Just out of curiosity, you text him. Because you have no idea what he’s been getting up to.

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

You: Hey, do you think we need to get together sometime this weekend?

Jungkook: i don’t think i can Jungkook: it’s my dance group’s show this weekend

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

You: I want to You: I’ll see you there!

That night, you drop by the grocery store beforehand to pick up a bouquet of flowers. You haven’t been a performing arts show for years now, especially not one where you actually know the people performing, but flowers are customary. Or so you’ve heard.

You don’t know a single soul who has plans on seeing Jungkook’s dance group either, but the theater is a ten-minute walk away from campus and you’re happy to make the trek alone, especially because you know you’ll find someone you know soon enough. Sometimes it’s nice to walk by yourself, letting the streetlamps above your head illuminate your path, a faceless figure passing by others. It brings peace. And it gives you time to sift through your thoughts, organize them into neat little piles and brush away all of the dust.

Admittedly, you are not much of a connoisseur of the performing arts. You aren’t even much of a consumer. In another universe, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t blink twice if you heard that one of the dance groups on campus was having their show. But this is not another universe, and these are not different circumstances.

Jungkook will be there. He is taking something he’s worked tirelessly on and presenting it to the world. Now that you think about it, it’s actually a lot like film. And if Jungkook has devoted so much time, put so much energy into this performance, what kind of person would you be if you didn’t go and watch his creation?

You pick a seat in the far back corner, the venue so cozy that even despite being the furthest away you’ve still got an excellent view, sit down, and wait for it to begin.

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

You: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?

Jungkook: always such a tease

You roll your eyes at that, turning your phone off and stowing it away in your pocket. Two minutes later, the lights dim.

The moment Jungkook steps out onto the stage, you recognize him instantly. He’s wearing all black again, but it’s not the same skinny jeans and leather jacket he had on when he took you out to dinner. It’s a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, highlighting the blondeness of his hair, the red in his lips. He’s one of at least a dozen people on stage but he’s the only one you focus on, the only one who your eyes follow. Booming throughout the theater is a Drake song, the beat thick and low, but it’s background noise when compared to the way he moves, the way he twists and turns his body on stage, angles sharp and crisp.

The whole song goes by so quickly that by the time you find it in yourself to blink the stage is already darkening as they move onto the next song, switching out the performers and changing the spotlight colors to a sultry red. Jungkook disappears for this one, vanishing behind the curtains and forcing you to pay attention to the performance as a whole instead of just him. But you have to hand it to his group: they’re excellent. You’ve been missing out.

Jungkook returns with the next song, having had just enough time to change into an all-white ensemble. He’s easy to spot even with that ridiculous bucket hat on, blonde hair bouncing with every step he takes, every jerk of his body. You can see it all the way from where you sit, see the way he loses himself in the music, lets the rhythm radiate through his blood, lets his heart match the beat that booms through the speakers. This, all of it, the music, the dancing, the energy—it’s all his. It belongs to him. Jungkook may love film but he is passionate about this. It is something that must bring him all the joy in the world.

The next hour and a half goes by quickly, the songs jumping from one to another to another, Jungkook dashing on and off stage, each time returning in a different getup than the one prior. Makes you wonder just how many clothes he has. But before you know it the final song is playing and every one, every single member is on stage, jumping and cheering and celebrating a job well done. And they should, because they deserve to.

When the lights in the theater come on, nobody leaves. Instead, everyone rushes towards the stage to say hello to everybody, congratulate them on their performance and take pictures with their friends. That’s why everyone else is here, isn’t it? Because the people they care about performed tonight.

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

Jungkook has plenty of other friends already wrapping their arms around him, giving him high-fives and pats on the back, but you’ve got a bouquet of assorted flowers in your hands and you have no plans on bringing them home. So you squeeze your way through the crowd, push yourself in between bodies, and you shout,

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks up instantly at the call of his name, the round shape of his lips curving upwards into a smile when he sees you.

“Hey, you made it!” He exclaims happily. He’s so pumped on the adrenaline that he pulls you into a hug without either of you even realizing it, wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing you tight for a few moments before the two of you remember just exactly who you both are. Quickly, you pull away, chuckling awkwardly. Jungkook scratches at the back of his head. “Thanks for, uh—thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you say happily. “You were amazing.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” Jungkook schmoozes, annoying as always.

You scoff slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here, I brought this for you. It’s traditional, right?” You hold out the bouquet in front of you, pink plastic wrapping crunched up from where your fingers gripped the stems.

“Wow, thank you,” Jungkook says, in awe as he takes the flowers from you, pressing his face into the petals instinctively. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Really?” You say, genuinely surprised at his admission. He’s never been given flowers before? Not even for a performance? You didn’t know that, either. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Jungkook says, though he looks grateful nonetheless.

You shrug, acting casual. “Aren’t we supposed to be falling in love, or something?”

He grins.

“Did you guys film this? Maybe we could incorporate it into the movie,” you suggest, thinking it might be interesting to add in glimpses into your normal lives, into the things you do when you aren’t trying to one-up each other.

Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but I don’t think we need to add it in.”

“Why not?” It seems like a perfect addition.

Jungkook pulls out a single flower from the bouquet, a pale yellow daisy, and hands it to you. You smile your thanks, twirling the stem in between your fingers.

“I don’t know,” he says, looking oddly soft, cheeks turning cherry red. He looks at you and it makes your heart flutter, quickens the drum of your chest. “I just think I’d like to keep this moment to ourselves.”

You suppose he’s got a point. You don’t think you’ll forget this night, either.

The bouquet you gave him sits on Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom windowsill, bathing in the afternoon sun. Taehyung gave him some plant food the morning after you came to his performance, a little bottle that he can spritz into the water whenever the flowers look a little droopy. Jungkook adds some every day, determined to keep them alive for as long as possible. He also makes sure he’s got a rather heavy book or two, something he can use to press one of them when they’ve all shriveled up.

It was really nice of you to come to his show, he thinks to himself. Jungkook can’t remember the last time someone outside of his group of close friends went to see him perform, not any of his past dates or even that one girl he was seeing semi-seriously for a couple months last year until she told him she wasn’t interested in him anymore. You’re the first one who’s made the effort, who’s told him that you would come and kept that promise. The flowers are just a happy reminder.

As a celebration for completing their last show, Jungkook and some of the other juniors in his dance crew decide to go out the following weekend, determined to waste away their Saturday nights at a bar just off of campus where they can take as many shots of as many different types of alcohols as they want. The place even has soju, which makes Jungkook’s heart happy.

Despite the temptation to drink until his brain is empty, however, Jungkook holds off. He’s got a lot of work tomorrow, most of it consisting of editing the footage you have for the project, and doesn’t really feel like staring at a computer for eight hours straight with a headache. So he limits himself. For the most part.

“Who was that girl that came to the show?” One of his friends, Andrew, asks as he downs another shot of what is undoubtedly vodka, if the smell is anything to go by. “With the flowers?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jesse pipes up, red in the face from the alcohol in his system. He’s always been one to turn into a tomato after drinking.

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head when the bartender offers him another shot glass full of soju. “No,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Just a friend.”

“I don’t know, you guys looked pretty close to me,” Andrew points out, like it wasn’t already obvious enough that Jungkook is head over heels for you.

“She and I are working on a film project together,” Jungkook explains, though that does absolutely nothing to convince his friends of your completely platonic relationship.

“Sounds fun,” Jesse says, swallowing another shot and wincing. “It was nice of her to bring you flowers. My girlfriend didn’t do that.”

“Shut up, your girlfriend is studying abroad in Paris right now,” Andrew says, giving Jesse a good-natured shove. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“What, please don’t—”

“She’s not my girlfriend, guys,” Jungkook repeats himself, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer the conversation drags on. He chalks it up to the soju in his system and the fact that it feels like a sauna in here. “Seriously, we’re just friends. People can be friends and bring each other flowers.”

Jesse pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” He rounds on Andrew. “Where are my flowers, hey Andrew?”

The two of them start bickering as Jungkook laughs, shaking his head fondly. At least he’s not drunk, so he can remember nights like these, ones where he’s drinking with his stupid idiot friends, celebrating a show well done.

Jungkook stays at the bar until eleven that night before he makes the executive decision to go home and sleep, because as much as he would like to party until three in the morning, he’s got a pile of work that’s telling him to be a real adult. So he bids his friends goodbye and begins to make the trek back to his apartment, passing by the row of frat houses on his way.

Even though he’s out on the sidewalk, Jungkook can feel the ground rumble from the music, every frat on the block joining together to make some booming, bass monster. From here he can see the flashing blue and purple lights in the windows, see the brothers standing on the steps of each house and turning away whoever they deem unfit to enter.

In a weird way, it makes Jungkook nostalgic. Reminiscent of when he was a freshman, when he would group up with all of the people in his hall and parade around the frat row on Saturday nights like they owned the place, getting drunk on shitty tequila and jumping until they sweat out their body fluids. He remembers those nights in flashes, bits and pieces that make up his memory of freshman year as a whole. Remembers kissing other girls, other girls kissing him. Remembers the way he would lock lips with them for a second and then forget about it by the next day.

Jungkook wonders why he ever thought he would meet his soulmate at a frat party.

He’s just passing the last frat house now, nodding to the guy on the step when they accidentally meet eyes, when he hears you call his name.

“Jungkook!”

He whips around to see you on the other side of the road, waving at him excitedly while your friends all laugh, sending smiles Jungkook’s way.

Jungkook isn’t exactly sure what the protocol is for a scenario like this, so he does what he thinks is right and waves back.

“Come over here!” You shout at him, loosely gesturing for him to join your group. Jungkook is hesitant, not sure if that’s necessarily the best course of action because even from here he can tell that you’re drunk, leaning over to one side and giggling at nothing. But even if he isn’t sure what will happen he can’t help but fall into the way you’re beaming at him, waving excitedly because you saw him on the street and you wanted to say hello.

He’s never been able to resist you.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He says as he jogs over, greeting the rest of your friends with a patient smile.

“Went out with my friends,” you say. Jungkook can smell the alcohol on your lips. “And then I saw you, which made me happy!”

You stumble over nothing, shoes skipping as they drag along the pavement, and before any of your friends can react Jungkook is reaching his arms out, catching you before you fall flat on your face. Your hands press against his torso as he lifts you back to your feet, and all Jungkook can do is pray that you can’t hear the way his heart races, beat drumming in his ears. You giggle in his hold, disoriented but not at all uneasy, looking up at him as your eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlamps.

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out.

“Sure,” Jungkook says, breathless. He stands you up and tries to let you go, but you keep your hands tight around his wrists. “I think we need to get you home.”

“Can you come with me?” You ask innocently, eyes wide.

“Y/N…” One of your friends says, voice hesitant. She places a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned. Jungkook doesn’t take any offense to it, he doesn’t know your friends well and imagines that they would much prefer being the ones to drop you back at your place.

You shrug her off. “No, it’s okay, Ruby,” you assure your friend, hand inching down Jungkook’s wrist until it rests firmly within his palm. “I’ll go with him.”

Ruby eyes Jungkook suspiciously and her gaze is so intense that it actually makes him doubt his ability to walk you home for a moment. But you seem intent on walking with him, and the sooner you go home the better, so Ruby relents and lifts her hand from your shoulder. “Alright, if you want to.” She keeps her eyes trained on Jungkook. “Text me when you’re back.”

“I will, I will,” you say, brushing her off and waving her away. “Let’s go, Jungkook. I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, come on,” he says. You smile happily at your friends as you say goodbye, cheerful and drunk and tired, all at once, and you begin to walk towards your apartment.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, positively filter-less.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Jungkook assures you. “What did you have to drink tonight?”

“Not sure,” you admit happily. “Just a lot.”

“I can tell.” Jungkook nods. “Were you at a frat party?”

“Several,” you correct him. “They weren’t that fun but at least the drinks were free.”

“Why were you at a frat party if you don’t like them?” Jungkook asks you, nose scrunched up. You certainly aren’t the kind of person to hide your distaste for things. That is something that Jungkook is intimately familiar with.

You shrug. “It’s the cheapest place to get drunk.”

“Why did you want to get drunk?” This is seeming more and more out-of-character for you. Going to a place you despise, taking shots until you can’t walk straight, meandering around campus with Jungkook. All of these are things Jungkook could never in a million years picture you doing out of free will.

Well, all of them except maybe the last one. You did come to his dance show, after all.

You sigh. It’s thick and heavy and Jungkook has a feeling you won’t want to divulge any more. “I just wanted to forget.”

But the curiosity is eating at him.

“Forget what?”

Your grip on his hand tightens. Jungkook fully expects you to dodge the question like you’ve dodged all of the ones prior, say something else to change the topic so you can sweep this discussion under the rug like all of the other ones you’ve had. But you don’t.

Instead, you say, “You wanna know why I don’t love love the way you do?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jungkook quickly assures you.

“I had better options than this place,” you say, voice hollow and empty. “There were better universities that accepted me. Ones with higher-ranked film programs and bigger scholarships. I could have gone to any one of them and been just as happy. Maybe more.”

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies.

“My ex-boyfriend goes to school ten minutes away from here,” you say, words that are most certainly news to Jungkook. You had a boyfriend? “He and I dated all throughout high school. I thought I was gonna marry him.”

The words sound so sad. It sounds like they don’t even belong to you. Like you’re recalling the memories of a different person, someone you’ve killed and buried, someone you were certain you would never have to face again. Yourself. Your past self.

“And then he broke up with me at the beginning of last year and it was too late to transfer out.” Your words are slurred and garbled, like all you want is to get over with saying them in the first place. It’s not a dramatic revelation. It’s not something you’re crying about, sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as you remember, miserable, a time where you were once happy. You just sound lifeless.

Jungkook blinks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. It doesn’t feel right for him to speak up. Not when you’ve just revealed to him something so personal, so drunk that you probably won’t even remember saying anything when you wake up tomorrow morning.

What is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to say? To do? It’s not like Jungkook can change your past. It’s not even as if he can change the near future. Your project is almost finished—the semester is almost over. And then you will return to the time where you never even knew each other.

“You can say something,” you tell him.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook says.

“Something to make me feel better, because now I’m sad,” you request simply. “Seeing you made me happy.”

“Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and smile, then,” he muses to himself.

“No, please keep talking,” you plead, leaning into his body with your bottom lip puffed out, eyes big and round and desperate. “Listening to you gets me to stop thinking about this stuff.”

Hearing that, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to mind. And that is, “You don’t have to think about that stuff anymore at all.”

“Hmm?” You murmur into his chest. Jungkook sees your apartment building up ahead. Just another block or so.

“Well, that was your old love story,” he begins tentatively. Jungkook’s almost fully sober by now but he feels like he won’t ever get another opportunity to say this, and maybe whatever soju is left in his system is enough to get him through this conversation. Enough for him to muster up the confidence to tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while now.

Even if you forget it by tomorrow. He knows this is his only chance.

“And it didn’t have a happy ending, but that’s okay. Because ours will.”

You’re just coming up to your apartment complex, the rusted gold doors of the entrance sticking out against the beige of the building and the sidewalk, shimmering in the light of the streetlamps. You pause right outside, taking cover underneath the red awning above your heads. Looking up at him, you blink expectantly.

“How do I know you mean that?” You ask.

He almost does it.

Jungkook doesn’t really know what washes over him in that moment, what takes his heart and mind prisoner for a split second, grip tight and unforgiving. But he’s staring straight into your watery eyes, glossy and glimmery and glowing, lost in the way you press your lips together, the way you gaze up at him and wait for him to tell you what he’s always wanted to say, and he almost does it. His hands press at your sides, holding you close, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go you’ll vanish without another trace and this night will all have been for naught.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t for a lot of reasons. You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, you will not remember this conversation. But Jungkook will. And if he does it, if he kisses you, if he presses his lips to yours it will be burned into his thoughts, carved into his heart, and you will be none the wiser. Jungkook can’t do that to himself. And he can’t do that to you, either. He will never take advantage of your company. He never has.

“Because,” Jungkook says instead, having hesitated for far too long. “I promise you.”

It’s good enough for him.

He tucks you into bed at 12:17AM that night, feet padding along your hardwood floor so he doesn’t wake up your neighbors, guiding you to your bedroom and reminding you to text Ruby that you made it home safely. Jungkook’s never gotten a very good look at your place, and even now it’s hard to make out most things without the main ceiling lights on, but he doesn’t really want to snoop. Even though you invited him in, he still feels like he’s intruding. You’ve always been so private. There were a lot of things said tonight that Jungkook is going to have to reckon with.

Once you’re curled up beneath your sheets, eyes drooping, Jungkooks turns off the light on your nightstand and nearly, just about nearly, presses his lips to your forehead. He manages to avoid doing that, too.

Instead, he pulls up your duvet and heads towards the main room, making a beeline for your front door. But before he can leave the room, he hears you mumble out his name.

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy.

“Yeah?” He looks back at you from where he stands in your door frame, one hand on the knob, ready to pull it closed.

You smile, eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” you say.

Jungkook grins.

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Ruby, which undoubtedly means that something positively terrible happened last night. Unfortunately, you have no idea what happened at all last night, good or terrible, so whatever Ruby has to say will be news to you.

Rubbing your eyes as you wrack your brain in the hopes of figuring out how you even ended up back at your apartment (when you swear you told Ruby you would stay at hers), you press on Ruby’s contact and call her.

“Y/N? Hello? Are you there?” Ruby answers on the first ring.

“I’m here,” you mumble out, words jumped and barely intelligible. You wince as your eyes adjust to the harsh blue light of your phone screen, squinting as you look at the time.

Shit, it’s 11:43AM and you’re meeting Jungkook for coffee at noon.

“Good, I called you three times last night after you texted,” Ruby wastes no time diving into her interrogation.

“Why?” You ask, scrambling out of bed with your phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your head throbs so you quickly take some Ibuprofen, splash your face with water, and start looking for something clean you can put on.

“Because texting me ‘home’ is not enough!” Ruby exclaims. “Jungkook walked you home last night, I wanted to make sure you were tucked in bed and feeling alright.”

You frown. You don’t remember that. Granted, you don’t remember a lot of things, but you can’t recall Jungkook walking you back. You saw him last night? You didn’t even know. Scratching your head, a part of you vaguely pictures him standing in your apartment in the dark, resting against the door frame to your bedroom in the warm yellow light of the lamp on your nightstand. Can just barely see him tucking you into bed, placing the sheets over your figure and making you text Ruby that you’re home. You thought you were just imagining it at the time, but it must have happened anyway.

“Jungkook walked me home?”

“Yeah, you insisted,” Ruby says. “You probably don’t remember, though.”

“No,” you say dumbly.

“Well, I appreciate you texting me that you were home but I would have preferred something more explanatory,” scolds Ruby. “I thought maybe Jungkook was gonna do something.”

“Oh my goodness, no,” you immediately interject, pulling on your shoes and stuffing your laptop into your backpack. Just the thought of Jungkook doing something like that sends your stomach for a whirl. “He would never do that. I trust him.”

“I mean, I see that now,” Ruby points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Everything’s good.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ruby says, still sounding a bit like an overprotective mother. You love her, though. You know she just wants the best for you. “Take it easy today, okay? You had a lot to drink last night.”

“I will,” you assure her. “I’m just on my way to meet up with Jungkook now. Getting coffee.”

“Make sure to eat, too,” Ruby reminds you. “And tell Jungkook that I said thanks for walking you home.”

“Anything else, Mom?”

You can practically see Ruby frowning on the other end. “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you, okay?”

She bids you goodbye just as you’re dashing out the door, your usual stride quickening so you make it to the cafe in time, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting. You make it there in a record five minutes, pulling open the door frantically just as the clock strikes noon.

Jungkook’s already there, of course, sitting by a little round table in the corner of the room with two americanos on the table. He waves when he sees you standing by the entrance, and the mere sight of him makes you smile, shoulders relaxing.

“Hey,” you greet, a little out of breath as you settle into the chair across from him.

“Hey,” Jungkook says back. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is killing me, but other than that I’m alright,” you admit, taking a sip of the drink. It’s piping hot but just the right amount of scalding, warming your insides after a night of filling them with pure poison.

“Good.” He grins. “It’s nice to see your face.”

“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” you say while still on the topic, “did you walk me home last night? I can’t remember.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I bumped into you and your friends while I was on my way back from a bar.”

You wince. The fact that you don’t even remember that happening tells you enough. “I was super drunk, wasn’t I?”

Jungkook, nice as always, says, “I’ve seen worse.” It only makes you feel the slightest bit better.

“Hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you say, knowing you have a tendency to lose your filter almost entirely when you get wasted, letting any sort of mental reasoning fly out the door the moment you down another shot. And the thought of having told Jungkook something deeply humiliating or personal, or even him witnessing something stupid, makes you feel weirdly exposed.

Jungkook freezes for a split second, almost like he’s buffering, like he’s about to say something but it’s just taking him an extra step to get the words out of his mouth. Then he takes a quick sip of his americano and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. You were just very drunk. And clingy.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you apologize. You can’t imagine the hell you must have put Jungkook through last night.

Jungkook laughs. “It’s okay. I’m glad we got you home safe.”

“Me, too.” You nod. You send a grateful smile his way. “Thanks for walking me, by the way. I really appreciate it. Ruby says thanks, too.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says. It doesn’t sound like something that people say just to say it. The way that people say ‘anytime’ just so they can be friendly and amicable. He says it and he means it, says it genuinely and honestly, like it’s a real promise that he’s making. That he would be happy to walk you home again. No matter the hour. No matter how drunk you are. No matter what he’s doing.

And that means a lot to you.

“We should probably wrap up filming soon, huh?” You say, getting onto the topic at hand. Of course, the project is the whole reason you’re even talking to each other in the first place. “It’s due in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of another outing? And maybe one more thing with Taehyung?” Jungkook suggests.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “‘Another outing’, Jungkook? What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins.

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers.

When you open your front door they’re the first thing you see, an enormous bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers in a variety of colors—pinks and purples and oranges and yellows—gripped neatly in Jungkook’s hand. They stick out against his otherwise rather formal attire, a simple black dress shirt and jeans, nice shoes that compliment his figure. Black truly is the world’s most slimming color, and Jungkook is no exception. He looks good.

“For you, m’lady,” Jungkook says dramatically as he holds out the bouquet in front of him.

“How thoughtful of you,” you muse to yourself, grinning. You take the flowers and press your whole face into them, breathing in the fresh scent. “The one I gave you wasn’t nearly this big.”

“Go big or go home,” Jungkook teases. “You look nice, by the way.”

“You always sound so surprised when you say that,” you comment snidely, shaking your head as you grab your bag from the shelf next to your door. “What are we doing tonight, Jeon? Gonna keep it a secret from me like last time?”

“That depends,” Jungkook says knowingly. “Do you like secrets?”

“You should know what I like by now,” you remark.

“Then prepare to be wowed.” He grins, taking your hand in his as he pulls you out the door.

The restaurant you go to this time does not require a ten minute drive to the center of town. Instead, it’s a five minute walk from campus and actually happens to be a place you’ve been to before. It’s a busy little thing on a Friday night, waiters bustling about with trays in their hands, people laughing and smiling under the dim light of the chandeliers. You’ve only been here once, long ago, for a club dinner paid for by the finance chair, and for good reason. It’s not the kind of place cheap college students looking to get the most food for the least amount of money go to.

“Isn’t this a bit out of budget for our rom-com?” You ask as the host seats you at your table, a little booth in the middle of the restaurant, lanterns resting on the corners of the seats.

“I thought this was a mockumentary,” Jungkook jokes.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, resisting the smile that fights its way across your face. Trust you to make that sort of blunder in front of him. “I mean it, though. This place is expensive.”

“It’s manageable,” Jungkook promises. “I’ve been saving up. Plus, I thought you deserved a nice night out.”

“How generous of you.”

“Oh, come on, I know you’re excited,” he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t have to act like a stone-cold robot anymore.”

“Well…” you suppose enough is enough. Jungkook can see right through you anyway, so there’s no point in keeping up this indifferent facade of yours. “Only because you’re treating me so nicely.”

“Just please don’t order the steak,” he requests simply.

You laugh. “No problem. Maybe we could just share a couple of appetizers?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that.

Luckily, this is not one of those restaurants where the appetizers cost an arm and a leg and are the size of your pinky finger. You and Jungkook split three different ones, happy to scoop out portions for each of you and indulge in them together.

Dinner dates—of which this is only sort of one—are always awkward because you spend half of the time shoving food into your mouth, but you and Jungkook don’t seem to mind the silence at all. Only, Jungkook does look sort of like he’s holding back.

“Is this enough food for you?” You ask him halfway through, distantly remembering how he absolutely devoured a whole plate of pasta last time and still having enough room in his stomach to finish yours.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of vegetables.

“You ate so much at the Italian place, I just want to make sure you aren’t still hungry,” you point out.

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, swallowing down the bite in his mouth. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else. But what the hell, right? It’s Jungkook. It’s Jungkook and he walked you home when you were drunk, he gave you flowers, he let you borrow his jacket. And you feel as though you must return the favor. “Anytime.”

He smiles.

Despite the pure ecstasy you both experience when eating delicious food, Jungkook makes sure not to waste this time and grabs a few frames of you eating with his camera. He always seems to have that with him whenever he’s with you, hanging around his neck or stuffed into his backpack or crammed into his pants pocket. Sort of makes you wonder just how much footage the two of you have of each other.

He insists on paying but you send him some money anyway, just because letting him shoulder the burden of a place as expensive (for college students, at least) as this just doesn’t sit right with you. Whenever he receives the Venmo notification on his phone, Jungkook frowns and says that he’ll send that money back to you, but he never does and you can tell that he really does appreciate it.

You don’t think you have any plans on stopping that for a while.

The only downside of going to this restaurant is that there is no gorgeous, light-strung park in the vicinity the two of you can wander around. Just your campus, which you have no doubt walked a thousand times over, and the streets surrounding it, which you have memorized like the back of your hand.

It almost makes you think that Jungkook is just going to drop you back off at your place and the night will end there, but you know better than to expect something like that from Jungkook. Instead, as you’re walking, you point out the cafe that you and Ruby always go to, see that it’s closing in half-an-hour, and Jungkook decides then and there that it’s your next destination.

“You’ve never been here before?” You ask when you walk inside, eyes immediately drifting to the display of pastries beside the register.

“I’m not normally on this side of campus,” Jungkook admits. “You’re the only reason I’m ever here.”

“Then hopefully after finding this place, you’ll have two reasons,” you say cheerfully. The baristas behind the counter know you on a first-name basis, are happy to help you out even though they’ve no doubt been working long hours and are ready to close up shop and go home.

You split a tiramisu and sit at that same corner table you and Ruby always pick, empty now that it’s so late at night. Other than the employees, you and Jungkook are the only ones in here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, filled to the brim with people, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air.

The tiramisu isn't as fresh as it would be bright and early in the morning, but you suppose that that just means you and Jungkook will have to come back. Besides, Jungkook obviously does not seem to mind, scarfing it down ruthlessly. You’re in and out just as they close up shop, the employees bidding you goodbye like old friends, sending you on your way. There’s not really much else either of you have planned for tonight, and Jungkook isn’t coming up with any new ideas as he checks his phone. Instead, you just begin to head back to your apartment, all wrapped up in each other. You place your hand in his own and feel yourself relax when he squeezes, a silent little reminder that he’s still here, and that so are you.

Funnily enough, holding hands feels natural to you at this point.

“Tonight was fun,” you comment, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, glad we could do this,” Jungkook agrees. “Makes me kind of sad to know that this thing is almost over.”

“What, the project?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. And the class. And the semester. It’s kind of scary. We’ll be seniors next year.”

You chuckle. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have no idea what I’m going to do after we graduate.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” Jungkook reassures you. “As long as you’re happy with what you have now.”

“Are you?” You inquire, looking up to meet his eyes.

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

The walk from the cafe to your apartment is short, just under five minutes, but it feels like it takes you an hour, footsteps slow and languid, like neither of you want the night to end. You hit every red light, round every corner, drawing out the evening for as long as you can. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do on a five-minute walk, and before you know it, you’re home.

“This is me,” you say, stopping outside the gold doors of your apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says, a common thread in your conversations.

“Really?” You ask, skeptical. “Our project’s almost over.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to stop doing this,” Jungkook says.

You narrow your eyes. “What are you implying, huh, Jungkook?”

“This.”

Before you know it, he’s wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you in close to him, your palms splayed out against his broad, toned chest, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp a little into the feeling, somewhat shocked he would dare be so bold even after all this time, but find yourself sinking into the touch. He tastes like coffee and cream, like peppermint from his chapstick, like the wine you shared tonight. You cave into the way he holds you, hands wrapped around your body, palms pressed firmly against your figure. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real and here and that you are kissing him back, like he’ll forget once the moment ends.

But he need not worry about that.

When you part, you don’t even bother wiping off the stupid smile on your face, kiss-drunk and filled with glee. It’s been a long time since you felt this way. And Jungkook makes you feel things you don’t even think you can explain.

“How bold of you,” you comment, noses touching, barely an inch away from each other.

“I figured I’d shoot my shot,” Jungkook says. He shrugs, pretending to be casual, but you can see the way he’s grinning, beaming, down at you.

“You scored,” you remind him.

“How observant of you,” teases Jungkook in return. You pout a little at his playful mockery, heart fond. “Think we can do it again?”

“Hmm, I would tone down the ego first,” you say, already leaning back in to press your lips against his.

“Never.” He smiles wickedly.

It’s a quicker kiss this time, a short peck against his cherry red mouth, but it still makes your heart beat something terribly fierce.

“See you soon?” You ask when you finally pull away, knowing that as much as you’d like to, you can’t just stand out here kissing each other forever.

Jungkook nods, cheeks pink and warm to the touch. He looks so sleek in his formal black outfit, crisp button-down and slacks, hair all styled, but the way he’s grinning at you makes him look so young, so sublimely happy. It’s nice.

“Anytime.”

“There’s my favorite couple!” Taehyung greets excitedly when he swings open the door to his apartment to reveal you and Jungkook standing on the other side.

“What’s it to you?” You comment snidely as he lets you inside, the black sheet still taped up along his wall. It looks a little more wrinkled than when you last saw it.

“Oh, nothing,” Taehyung singsongs. He definitely knows a lot more than he cares to tell either you or Jungkook, but whatever. The project’s almost over and he’s almost finished with university entirely. “You guys are just cute together, that’s all.”

“Like you even know the half of it.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes.

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, do tell.” He grins that greasy, comic-book-villain grin of his as he starts moving his bar stools back to where the sheet lines his cream-colored wall.

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” Jungkook poses, making you laugh from where you’re seated on the couch, watching Jungkook set up his tripod in exactly the place he wants it. You smile at him as you recline against Taehyung’s poor old leather couch, so worn-down from use that the back cushions fold in when you press against them, and Jungkook peers out from behind the camera to blow you a kiss.

You send him one back without even needing to think.

Taehyung misses the whole scene, but no doubt he’ll be putting two and two together pretty soon. You and Jungkook agreed that for the last interview you would be questioned together, long before Jungkook actually managed to romance you off your feet, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that the two of you being interviewed side-by-side will make things much more interesting.

Nevertheless, Jungkook sets up the camera and sends a thumbs-up your way when he’s ready, Taehyung sitting on the bar stool just outside of the frame with a couple of index cards in his hand.

“Let’s do this,” you say, hauling yourself onto the seat. Jungkook does the same shortly after, scooching onto the one next to you as you stare at Taehyung, waiting for him to start.

“Looking forward to this one?” Taehyung asks knowingly.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod.

“Alright. Well, this is presumably the last thing the two of you will be filming for your project. How are you feeling about it?”

“It turned out better than I thought it would,” you admit. It will come as a shock to no one that you did not have very high hopes for this project when it was first assigned.

“Of course it did, I’m your partner,” Jungkook teases, poking you in your side. “Would you ever doubt me?”

“Always,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles. “Sounds like it’s been good so far. Did you enjoy filming it?”

You nod. “Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. Except for when Jungkook spilled coffee all over me, that was not cool.” You turn to face Jungkook directly, and all he does when you say his name is wink and point at you.

“It was for the rom-com, I don’t know what you expected,” Jungkook said. “I gave you my jacket, too.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Taehyung chuckles, warm and low. “I’m sure Jungkook learned his lesson,” he muses. “What was your favorite thing to film?”

Not when I randomly texted you five minutes before I showed up at your door to make you ask me questions about how I feel, you think to yourself. Jungkook still doesn’t know, but you think you’ll put it into the movie just for the hell of it, so he’ll find out then. Find out that you were grappling with your feelings for him long before you ever let on.

“The serenade was a blast, a special shoutout to the Eighth Notes for doing that for me,” Jungkook says immediately. Obviously that is at the top of his list. “Plus, I just like seeing Y/N all flustered.”

“Shut up, you’re so annoying,” you chide. “I guess the serenade was kind of cute. I liked going out together, though. On our not-date.”

Jungkook objects to that instantly. “It was a date, Y/N!”

You look back at him, equally as scandalized as he. “Whose turn is it to talk?”

“Mine, actually,” Taehyung interjects. “Did you like going out together?”

You sigh a little, wondering if you’re really about to turn into a softie in front of a camera for a movie to be shown to your twenty classmates and professor. “Yeah,” you say, real and true because that’s what you agreed on, you and Jungkook. To be candid. To be honest. To say how you felt. Really. “It was really nice. I hadn’t gone out with someone like that in a long time.”

“And were you happy because of the project, or because of Jungkook?”

“Well,” you begin, not exactly sure where to start. “I guess, it’s like… you know, I didn’t even know Jungkook before this project. I mean, I knew who he was, he would always respond to my discussion board posts and object to everything I said in class. But I didn’t know him as a person. But as we worked on this project together, planning and filming and editing, I started to. And we did so many things together. And I guess I just really enjoyed the time we did spend as a pair.”

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says easily. “That’s what I wanted. To get to know Y/N, to spend time with her. I was glad we had this project. Otherwise, we might never have done something like this.”

“You both seem very happy.”

“I think we are. This project was actually sort of a blessing in disguise. I know him a lot better, now,” you say. “I’m glad that I do. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I always feel happy when he’s around. I don’t know. He did it, somehow.”

“Jungkook?”

“It wasn’t just me. Y/N and I did this together. We made this. This project. Us. It wasn’t just her, or just me. It’s ours.” Jungkook grins.

“Are you glad you did this project?”

Of course. It was fun, and I liked filming it, and I feel like I got something really important out of it. I know it’s just a short rom-com mockumentary, but it really feels like there was a happy ending, you know? A happily ever after.”

“You seem really certain about that.”

“Well,” Jungkook says with a little scoff, “what else would you call it?”

“As you can see, obviously Y/N fell head over heels in love with me thanks to this wonderful project—”

“Why are you always so full of yourself—?”

“Hey, you’re ruining the voiceover! As I said, as you can see, Y/N fell head over heels in love with me, but that wasn’t just because of my dashing good looks and amazing singing skills.”

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

“It was because we were honest with each other, and because we spent meaningful moments together, and because we kept our hearts open. And I guess that’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? Love, romance, relationships? If you close yourself off, you’ll never get to experience them. But if you take every opportunity with an open mind, then you never know what might happen. Like falling in love with your discussion board nemesis.”

“Who, me?”

“Just let me finish, come on. There’s like one paragraph left. I know this was a mockumentary, not a scripted rom-com with professional actors and screenwriters and a whole team of editors. But that was the whole point. To make it real. And to make it between two people who aren’t just characters on a screen. We’re real people, and this happened to us. And it makes us happy. And it can happen to you, too. I think we all learn something every time we watch a new movie. Whether it be about loss, or promises, or other people. This time, we learned about love. Real love. How it can be rocky and strange and come straight out of left field. But also how happy endings aren’t just for movies and fairytales. We all deserve them. And Y/N and I found our own.”

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

You look up at the screen, expecting to see the credits roll, but instead it’s a shot of the two of you kissing outside of your apartment building, a shot of you wrapping your arms around him as you press your lips to his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but you find yourself entranced in the moment, shocked that Jungkook somehow managed to capture it on film. He didn’t even have his camera with him that night.

Pollack turns on the lights in your classroom as your fellow classmates applaud, all of them looking genuinely pleased that your rom-com had such a wonderful ending. Pollack herself looks rather proud, nodding to herself as she smiles at the two of you.

“You filmed us kissing?” You hiss to Jungkook as your classmates clap, hoping the sound of it will drown out your conversation.

“I got Taehyung to,” Jungkook whispers back. “Why?”

“I just… I thought that night was just for us.”

“The rest of it is. But I thought the kiss would be a cute way to end it. You know, happy ending and everything.”

Alright, if Jungkook insists. You nod, tensing up slightly. You hadn’t even noticed Taehyung down the street, standing behind some utility pole with the camera raised to his eye. Had Jungkook texted him in secret? Asked him to meet you outside of your apartment? Was he planning on kissing you from the very beginning?

You shake your head, willing away the thoughts as Pollack commends the two of you for a job well done. Jungkook and you stand at the front of the room for a few more seconds, getting stared down by your fellow classmates while Pollack speaks. The period ends just as she finishes up, the minutes changing the moment she closes her mouth. Within a minute or so, the whole class has emptied out, some of them congratulating you and Jungkook on the way out.

“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Jungkook says, eyes bright and filled with that same wonder he’s always got.

“Yeah,” you say distantly, nodding to him as he disappears out the door.

“You did an excellent job, Y/N,” Pollack praises, and it goes right to your head, if you’re being honest. “It was brilliant.”

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly rather shy. “That means a lot.”

“Don’t tell anyone else this,” she says, voice quiet, “but I was secretly hoping the two of you would fall in love.”

“Pollack!”

She laughs. “What? I thought you’d make a cute couple. And you do, so clearly it all worked out anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the code of conduct,” you say, even though you know you can’t be too mad at her. After all, you wouldn’t have Jungkook if it weren’t for her.

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

“Wait…” you pause, eyes narrowing, “how many of your students have you set up with each other?”

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open.

She chuckles, shooing you out the door. “Go on, go be with your boyfriend. You can tell him you both get A pluses for your project. It was excellent. One of the best I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Thanks, Pollack,” you say, smiling gratefully. “You’re the best.”

She points at you proudly as you head out the door. “So are you.”

Jungkook is waiting by the tables where you always sit, half a flight down from your classroom. He’s leaning against the edge of them as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone, so engrossed in the Instagram explore page that he doesn’t see you walk up.

“Guess what,” you say, getting all up in his face, just because you can.

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised.

“We got an A plus on our project!” You exclaim happily, cheering. Jungkook laughs at your exuberant reaction, watches as you jump around, clapping loudly.

“Hell yeah, we did that!” Jungkook holds his hand up for a high five, one you gladly take. Your palms smack together and the sound reverberates around the hallway.

“You know, you and I—” you begin, placing your palms on his cheeks as you pull yourself in for a kiss, “we make a pretty good team.”

“Only because you’re so good at editing,” Jungkook says. You’re both not too bad, if you do say so yourself, but since Jungkook did so much of the filming you thought it would be better if you carried more of the weight when it came to post-production.

“Says you,” you tease, pressing your lips to his button nose. “The happy ending thing was a nice touch, I liked it. Makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“I’m glad,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, admiring the way you beam at him. “You know, I was really worried that you might think we didn’t have a happy ending after all, especially after everything.”

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously.

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out.

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand.

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you.

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix.

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit.

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night.

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons.

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers.

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play.

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself.

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right.

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him.

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice.

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you.

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real.

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place.

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either.

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over.

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat.

The truth is, you were always a goner for him.

And look how well that played out.

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight.

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table.

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop.

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur.

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good.

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy.

Hope.

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve.

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much.

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you.

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end.

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside.

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side.

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it?

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door.

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him.

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

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

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

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

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

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you.

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you.

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful.

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought.

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby.

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now.

A brand new frame.

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now.

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie.

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back.

“Yes,” you declare proudly.

And so, they lived happily ever after.

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook college au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the art of the rom com #dudes this fic is so long my keyboard is lagging HAHAHA

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pastxlscorp · 4 years ago

Text

Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.1)

Chapter I: Inception

✿ Word Count: 2.1k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Y/N POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, minor manga spoilers, Bully! Mitsuya headcanons from last post

He lifted his large palm, coated in silver and black rings to match his attire. He was wearing a black mock turtleneck that matched his jet black hair. In his youth, he had lilac-colored hair that was either in a buzz-cut or grown out to a mullet. Now, he sported his black hair in his college-years. He was studying to become a fashion designer, a dream he had since his youth after his love blossomed for sewing. It had begun as a chore in order to keep his sisters satisfied and happy, saving money from buying toys by simply creating them himself. As he practiced it more and more, he began to realize how intricate fabrics were. How beautiful colors could come together and form the prettiest structures and designs -- how even the ugliest colors would look elegant if you paired them properly with the right colors, or carefully took apart the threads to create something new. You on the other hand were not studying to become a fashion designer, but rather a photographer. In your youth, you were a free-lancer in art and a quiet overachiever. You had many different career options open to you, but nothing really opened you up in the way art did. You participated in many different types of art, you loved painting, sewing, embroidery, name it, you’ve probably dabbled in it. One day, your class was introduced to your photography unit and all the puzzle pieces fell into the designated places, the pieces being lost and untouched for years. Nothing brought you more joy than snapping someone’s photo on the street to surprise them with the way the sunlight beautifully encapsulated their figure. Nothing brought you more joy than taking an eerily aesthetic photo of the rain pouring on the people below your building as a lady frolocked in the rain below, eager to rejoice in mother nature’s beauty.

Truthfully, your relationship had not started out the way it was now. With his palm ever so elegantly shoving you to the floor, your photographs spilling out of your portfolio as you hit the cold tile floor, protecting your chest by landing on your elbow and knee. Snickers, chuckles, giggles-- they all filled the hallway after seeing you collapse. Only a select few actually took pity on you, including one of his loyal followers, Hakkai Shiba. Mitsuya was usually followed around by two close-friends, Yasuda-san and Hakkai. Yasuda-san was also a fashion major, while Hakkai was planning to become a model. Mitsuya was very well respected amongst the campus for many different reasons. Firstly, he was gifted with the intellect of sewing intrigue designs that made everyone sigh in awe. Secondly, pretty-privilege. You hated to admit it but Mitsuya was a very attractive-looking man, his hair was always fluffed to the right extent, he was well-dressed, and leading into the third reason, he was smart. Despite being a part of the Tokyo Manji Gang, otherwise known as Toman, as one of the second division captains, he was able to manage schoolwork as an overachiever and was known for his intellect. Not to mention, keeping his division in check along with his two younger sisters AND the sewing club that he managed at his school? It was no wonder he was seen as the perfect boyfriend, he had all of his together. This was the reason why his disregard of you was seen as acceptable, everyone assumed you must have done something wrong for him to treat you this way, right?

Incorrect assumption. You have never done anything wrong to Mitsuya-- in fact… you don’t really remember doing anything to him, period. You both met by chance in his home-economics club, which he decided to suggest to the college board upon seeing there was not a club that actively encouraged sewing. At the time, most participants on campus were graphic designers, artists, not really looking to take the fashion industry by storm as Mitsuya was. However, he was able to persuade the board and even got petition signatures to seal it all off. He was the president of the club and upon seeing the posters taped in the hallways, you instantly took the opportunity to get any extracurricular activities on your transcript. He welcomed you into the club but it wasn’t like you got that much of his attention-- after all, the club filled up quickly with Mitsuya’s admirers. Although, shortly before he began his cruel treatment and behavior towards you, it actually seemed like you two were becoming friends. He would begin to check on you a little more frequently than the rest, tapping your shoulder with a warm smile, asking you how your project was going. You would show him your small projects, nothing too big as it had nothing to do with your major, but projects that you enjoyed and had fun doing nonetheless. He seemed most amused by the sweater you created for your dog by letting out a soft chuckle. In return, he showed you the sweaters he made for his sisters, who were now teenagers. It became a routine for him to walk over to you after checking up on everyone else and talk until club hours were over. He’d find anything to talk about and it made your heart swell with how he actually took the time out of his day to make sure you didn’t feel alone. You were sure he had picked up on how you lacked friends in his club, he was clearly trying to make you feel welcome and you couldn’t help but begin to admire him even more than you once had.

One day, however, it suddenly changed. His demeanor was suddenly cold and unwelcoming to you. You noticed when you walked into his club as you normally did, taking your seat. He did not visit you within the 10 minutes it usually took him to check upon everyone else. It took much, much longer, so you simply assumed everyone needed more help than usual. However, when he came over to your table, his words startled you so much that you pricked yourself with your needle, rushing your eyes to meet his own at his sudden harshness.

┃ “Looks like someone isn’t paying attention.”

The venom in his words made your cheeks flush with a tint of red, noticing some of the club members staring at you, also in surprise of his harsh tone. You open your mouth, quickly questioning his behavior, all of your words coming out panicked, in fear you’ve done something wrong-- something to disappoint, or upset him.

┃ “What do you mean, Pres? My projects have never been an issue before.”

┃ “Nicknames are a privilege. Call me by my proper title.” He snapped, your peers widening their eyes, for he never required anyone to call him by his last name.

┃ “...President Mitsuya, I apologize. However, you can’t just--”

┃ “Look around,” he motions his arm towards the surrounding students working at their tables, sewing much larger projects and others measuring their models for their designs. Your right eyebrow began to raise in confusion, he had never minded your small projects. Yet, here he was, embarrassing, no-- humiliating you in front of your peers about how minuscule your projects were in comparison.

┃ “Your peers all have their mind set on a big project or several larger projects. Yet, here you are with your small little trinkets. They’re working hard, and you’re doing the bare minimum to have your work completed for this club.”

Tears began to prick your eyes, questioning what his true motive was here. Surely, the projects weren’t the issue. This… this was too strong of a switch-up. Something had triggered this outburst of his, but you weren’t sure what. He was always stressed, all the time actually-- had he perhaps overwhelmed himself and he was taking it out on you?

┃ “(Y/N).” Your name so violently came out of his mouth, as if it had just crashed on cement. It wasn’t the silky and softer voice you were accustomed to hearing when speaking with him. “Get your head out of the clouds. Are you listening?”

┃ “Sir… I mean, President Mitsuya, with all due respect, you seem to be… unfairly targeting me. Some of these students are creating something as simple as a sweater for their friends, why is something for my dog any different?”

The rest of the club began planning your funeral. While never seeing him this upset on school grounds, they have heard about how foul he could get with his division members. Questioning him was bound to make him explode. They all froze, eyes drifting to Mitsuya for an incoming scolding.

┃ With a harsh grab, his fingers glide under your chin as he lifts it up to meet his face directly. “'You questioning me?”

┃ “N-no sir! I mean no disrespect, I just-”

┃ “You’ll be staying after club hours.”

┃ “B-but sir I have-”

┃ “I was NOT asking.” He half-shouts, dropping your chin from his harsh grip as he makes it back to the front of the classroom where he continues to work on his own projects. Your fellow club members pitied you at first, but after seeing how harsh he got later on with you as the bullying continued, they assumed this was the result of an external conflict.

You don’t remember what he told you after club hours. He was yelling something about how you were stupid, a dumbass, and well, you get the rest. Cruel words were thrown at you as if the day before he wasn’t so fondly helping you with the sweater for your dog-- helping you perfect the stitch of his name. Any time you questioned him or flat-out denied his accusations and heinous words, he would yank your chain and pull you so you were right in front of him as he stared down at you. It was enough to scare you out of ever providing a rebuttal, and you soon learned that as the bullying continued.

Now, here you are, on the floor, calmly collecting your portfolio photographs, not even phased by his now-normal harassment. Usually, a shove would be enough to appease him, but today it seemed like one of those days where he wanted more. He walked over to your kneeling figure as you collected your portfolio, your head turned away from him to avoid giving him any form of satisfaction.

┃ “What do you say after you bump into someone?”

┃ “I didn’t bump into you, dickhead.”

With a swift motion, he forcefully grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, his lavender eyes piercing straight through you. He was clearly unsatisfied with your response.

┃ “What do you say after you bump into someone, skank?”

Every time you questioned him or talked back, you knew it simply made him angrier. You quickly learned that him acting out was his way of earning your attention, but for whatever reason it was, you couldn’t figure out why. What you did learn, however, from your many other incidents with him, is that he would praise you when you were obedient. Eager to get this over with and save yourself any more humiliation, you replied:

┃ “I’m sorry.”

┃ “I’m sorry…?”

┃ With a sigh, you continue, “I’m sorry, President Mitsuya.”

He smirks, now satisfied with your answer. He taps your cheek with his right index finger and replies:

┃ “Good girl.”

You swipe your face away from his grasp and continue collecting your photographs, along with your notebooks and planner that had slipped out. Mitsuya scoffs as you once more retract your attention away from him and walks away with Yasuda-sun snickering. Hakkai, however, stays behind and examines you for a few brief moments. He walks over to you and begins helping you organize your bookbag. You look up and smile-- despite his silence, his eyes offered every form of apology he could give you. You had learned Hakkai was afraid to speak up to Mitsuya because he was his best friend and was afraid any talkback from him would only result in a deeper hatred for you. You didn’t mind, however, you just appreciated how Hakkai kept you grounded. He helped you remember you didn’t do anything wrong, this was Mitsuya’s doing and his alone. Hakkai was always well-dressed as well, you noticed. He was wearing an incredibly long trench coat with beautiful shades of baby blue, ocean blues and a bright orange that made everything pop. It covered a black mock turtleneck that seemed to be matching the one Mitsuya was wearing and in fact, Hakkai also seemed to have an earring on one ear, similar to Mitsuya. It appeared that he deeply respected Mitsuya, his outfit seemed to be heavily inspired by his own. With everything settled in your bookbag once more, he offered you a pat on the head with a smile as you nodded and thanked him before running off to your first class of the day.

✿ a.n. // I finished this chapter while finishing my AP Psychology hw. I had started writing it and then idk why but I was re-reading the manga and went “wait, now what if we have Hakkai and Yasuda-san…” and ta-da, take my 2.1k words of pure a$$. If this chapter does well, I’ll be sure to upload it on my ao3, too. special tags for @the2ndl and @bren-heron because they both really wanted a fic out of this concept. I hope you enjoy loves <3

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not-ur-normie · 4 years ago

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Cristal witches, aka Sasha making headcanons for the world of Eldarya

I have this idea since forever at this point, so I figured it wouldn't hurt a fly to talk about it a little. It comes from years before when I wanted my OC to not be human but some kind of magic creature, so here we go.

English is not my first languange, so I am apologizing in advance.

Note: Throughout the post, the timespan is after the Blue Sacrifice, but I will talk about that too later on.

Who are cristal witches?

Cristal witches are witches who hold power connected to maana.

The bigger maana surronds them, the bigger their powers get

The reason they are called cristal witches is because they can form a connection with the Crystal

They are creatures with big potencial to play big roles in Eldarya, but that is exactly the point where things go wrong

More about witches

Most cristal witches are women, it's really rare when a male is born and inherits magical power, but there are cases when it happens

There were never any worry about them dying out, since the genes are VERY strong

When a male and female cristal witch have a child who is also one, they turn out way stronger then the others who only have one parent being one

Don't get me wrong, one parent makes the kid already strong as it is, but two parents are just a whole new level

Cristal witches all have tattoos, all in different colors. Most of the time the colors don't have anything to do with the powers they can hold, but lighter colors indicate lighter powers, meaning: lighter colors can't use magic that requires bigger maana usage, like black magic, or healing magic

(If you play the game, you sure know the voodoo outfit, I based the tattoos on those tattoos, so you can see the colors if you google it)

Since cristal witches are a heavily mixed community thanks to the overload of women, there are times where kids inherit both of their parents specific genetics

It's rare tho, because of the witch genes mixing up with other races' is not that common

But when it happens, it always gains attention

Cristal witches are not just cristal witches because they are connected to the Crystal, but because they literally have crystals all over their body

These crystals are mostly small ones and has the color of the tattoos

They are really human-like, so if they can hide their tattos and crystals they can perfectly blend in, which did come handy at some point

Their lifespan is about 150-200 years

They are able to open the portal to the human world

(here you can see the children of my OC [Chrystal] and Ezarel, who were lucky enough to inherit both of their parents genes, so they are witches with elf ears.)

How did they live?

Back then cristal witches lived in small communities, mostly small villages, but there where some communities living a full nomad life

Since they live so long, there were not many of them to begin with

These smaller communities lived close to each other way back then, but the nomad communities started to move around after a while

These are highly spiritual communities, especially that they are fully able to communicate with the Oracle if they wish so

They had special type of education, where witches were learning to use basic magic, while non-witches who lived with them learned alchemy

They had strict rules, that everybody needed to follow, they weren't allowed to use their power randomly

They needed to get an approval to use magic that requires more manna than your basic magic, and also to use dangerous or risky magic

If somebody went against this rule more than 5 times, they got their magic taken away

They choose new leader every year, although if a leader was good, they sticked with them and kept on picking them

The leader was not leading alone, although they made the final decisions

There were many smaller position available next to the leader, which are also chosen by the other witches

Overally they are really pieceful, so the conflicts are not that common

Cristal witches are able to do many things with magic, but it takes a lifetime to gain a really controlled power, so older, well-educated witches are highly respected and the leader was chosen from them most of the times

Some really strong witches are even able to bring back people from the death, but only if they're right there when the death happens

The Blue Sacrifice

The reason that Cristal witches were never part of the council that planned out the Sacrifice was that the races forming the council agreed that Eldarya could need them in the future (and they were damned right)

Before the Sacrifice taken place, witches were not that strong than after it happend

I imagine it the way, that once the sacrifice was made, Eldarya alone had more maana than when the two worlds were one and since witches' powers are mostly maana based, it made their powers grow way stronger than before

(I hope this makes sense lol)

Where things went wrong

As I mentioned before, they are creatures with big potential

When the Blue Sacrifice went wrong, the races in Eldarya needed the witches help the most

Almost every community, town, villige, whatever had at least one witch living with them to help out whenever there were high need

The problem is, that there was always high need; as we know Eldarya was in trouble

With the help of the witches it was easier to go for supplies to the human world, although only those communities could do this who had stronger, more experienced witches

There were even witches who were able to cast spells and make the field able to grow some edible plants

And this is exactly where things went terribly wrong

Since cristal witches have a high value, there were many who hunted them or tortured them for their powers

Why? Well, I know all the above reasons would be enough, but there are more to it

Cristal witches' blood is able to make the lifespan of whoever drinks it longer

And not just that, but it can completely function as food, it stops hunger for longer periods of time (weeks, sometimes months, depending on power) and makes the immune system 100% healthy

It was also used for really expensive medication

You know what else is really valuable? The tears of witches.

It can fasten healing and was used for many medication as well as their blood

But only tears that hold heavy emotions count, since the tear drops turn into little crystals

These informations spread real fast after a while and witch hunts became so serious that at one point several communities started to think that it would be better to sacrifice them as well so maybe Eldarya could gain its full balance [the Guard of El also wanted this, just in case you were curious]

Witches would've 100% sacrificed themselfs if they got asked by the time the Blue Sacrfice happend

But after all the terror they went through, their trust was completely broken

They did not want to die for all these selfish folks wanting to murder them, not thinking about their race for a single second

So one day they completely vanished

Nobody knows how exactly, the common guess was that they opened the portal and moved to the human world, giving up on their magic

I mean everything was better than dying for your murderers

After the vanish

Of course, not all of the witches vanished, but the witch communities that lived together

Those who lived in certain places helping out stayed there

Back then the Guard of El had a witch with them too

Sadly, they got scared of her possibly gaining control over the guard, since she was very much loved... So they decided to kill her [yes, they wanted to sacrifice her, and then killed her, way to go]

The last known cristal witch was a male, living with the Fenghuangs, but he died just before The Origins' story starts

But... Are they really all gone?

Okaaaay soooo I bet there are stuff in this which doesn't exactly fit the story and/or I remember incorrectly, but it is what it is.

On the very first art you can see my OC named Chrystal. Well, she arrives to Eldarya the same way Erika did in the original story, the main difference is that she turnes out to be a cristal witch and this fact leaves the guard in a numb shock. Suddenly the only living cristal witch is with them and that is changing their situation entirely.

I am sure I will write down Chrystals story with illustratons and whatnot, but currently I am working on my Moonligh Lovers' OC's illus, so that will take some time.

Anyway, this will have another part, I wanna at least introduce Chrystal so you can see a cristal witch in action, hurray.

Ah, yeah, if there are facts from the game messed up, feel free to tell me, I am not biting. You can also use this idea for your ocs, I don't mind. Hugs<3

#eldarya #eldarya new era #eldarya the origins #eldarya headcanons

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gamergirl929 · 5 years ago

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You Never Lost Me (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Can you do a sonnett imagine where she is the love of the readers life and they are dating but sonnett isnt as in love as the reader and they break up because the reader doesnt want to hold her back but then sonnett realizes what shes missing

This is a pretty long one folks, but pleaseeee enjoyyyy!

"I mean, we’re seeing where it’s going.”

The words sent a spear through your heart, the thing that skipped a beat when you saw her hazel orbs had been torn in two by the very owner of those hazel orbs.

It was after that day that you started to realize maybe Emily wasn’t as in love with you as you were in love with her.

It became PAINFULLY aware when the two of you had made plans to go out to dinner and Emily had flaked, deciding to go out on the town with your teammates instead of spending time with you, something that tore your heart into absolute shreds.

And when she posted photos on her Instagram of her and the teammates out, all smiling happily you didn’t think your heart could take much more.

“Whoa, where are you going?” Christen asks as you slip from your hotel room, your head down.

“Out.”

Christen’s brows furrowed as she watched you go, Tobin making her way towards her.

“What’s going on?”

Christen shakes her head.

“I don’t know.”

***

Later that night they find you at the hotel bar, passed out on its surface, a number of shot glasses gathered around you.

Tobin carries you upstairs, shaking her head.

“Where the hell is Em?”

Christen frowns.

“Out with the others...”

Tobin sighs.

“She can stay with us tonight then...”

***

Emily hadn’t even realized you were gone, not even taking the time to send a text to you, to try to find out where you were.

“Did you even care that I was gone?” You asked, tears in your eyes and Emily sighs.

“I just forgot to text you, that’s all.”

The blonde had left after that, leaving you alone in your hotel room, throwing an “I’m heading to the mall with Linds and the others” over her shoulder before the door clicks shut.

Your head hangs in sadness, tears slipping down your cheeks.

***

“Wait, where’s Y/N?” Mallory asks, confused and Emily shrugs.

“She’s at the hotel.”

Lindsey’s eyes narrow, her blue orbs darting from Mallory, to Rose, and to Sam, the three looking as equally confused as her.

“Em...” Mallory swallows hard, the blonde stopping in her tracks.

“Yeah?”

“You do realize Y/N is your GIRLFRIEND, right?” Lindsey asks, and Emily shrugs.

“I mean... I-I know.”

Rose shakes her head,

“You’re not acting like it.”

Emily scoffs.

“I mean of course, I like her.”

Sam’s eyes widen.

“Like?” She asks, Emily’s eyes widening as she stares at the sidewalk.

“Shouldn’t it be love?” Mallory asks, the corner of Emily’s mouth drooping down.

“It should be... I mean it is for Y/N...” Emily mumbles, Mallory, Rose, Sam and Lindsey looking at her in shock.

“It’s not for you?” Rose asks, a simple shake of Emily’s head making them all frown.

“Maybe you should tell Y/N...” Lindsey places a hand on Emily’s shoulder, the blonde shaking her head.

“I don’t want to hurt her, I like her...” She frowns, Lindsey shakes her head again.

“You’re actively hurting her, by stringing her along Em.”

Emily sighs, head hung in shame.

“You’re right...”

Emily leans against a nearby wall with a frown.

“She loves me so much and I want to love her just as much but...”

“But you can’t?” Mallory asks, earning a simple head shake.

“I want to... I care about her we’re just, not on the same level...”

Lindsey cups her cheeks, holding her face so she can look into her hazel orbs.

“You need to tell Y/N that, before it’s too late, before you break her heart even more.”

Emily nods.

“I will.”

***

The second Emily steps into your joined hotel room, she realizes it’s devoid of any and all of your belongings.

“Wh-What?” She stammers when she sees you holding your suitcase, your eyes bloodshot from not only lack of sleep, but from the many tears you shed that day, pouring your heart out to Tobin and Christen, the two veterans listening intently as you spilled your guts out.

“What are you doing?” Emily asks, a lump forming in her throat at the sight of your sad Y/E/C eyes.

“I’m going to stay with Tobin and Christen...” You sniffle, shuffling from foot to foot, your eyes on the carpet beneath your feet.

“But why?” Emily asks, taking a step towards you, her hands trembling when you take a step back.

“You don’t feel the same way for me as I do for you...” You mumble, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I can’t put my all into something and only get back half... Well, not even half.” You shake your head, tear filled hazel orbs locking with your Y/E/C ones.

“Y/N, listen...”

You shake your head.

“I’ve been listening to you, listening to you telling reporters you were, ‘just seeing where this went.’” You motion between the two of you.

“Ple-

“Listening to you tell me we’d go to dinner, and then going out with the others instead...”

Emily’s bottom lip trembles, replaying each and every scenario in her head, imagining how you must felt every time you watched her walk away from you.

“Just tell me...” You take a deep breath, a pit forming in your stomach.

“Do you love me...?” You ask, tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes dart around Emily’s red face, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Emily’s mouth opens and closes a few times before her head hangs, the woman shaking her head.

You nod, making your way towards the door.

“That’s all I needed to know.”

The door slams shut behind you and Emily shakes her head, slowly walking over to sit down on the end of the bed, burying her face in her hands.

Emily knew she had to let you go, she knew, but that didn’t make her feel any better, the heartbroken look in your eyes tearing her heart in two.

In all honesty, she felt as if she deserved it, knowing that she must’ve tore your heart into shreds every time she walked away.

Every time she told reporters the two of you were simply seeing where it was going

She had to let you go.

You deserved to find someone who would reciprocate those feelings, and that wasn’t Emily.

***

Tobin and Christen welcomed you with open arms, the women holding you as you sobbed into their chests, each and every night, lulled to sleep by their kind words and gentle ministrations, the two doing their best to keep you away from alcohol which had become your best friend after the break up.

The two had been your saving grace when the season had ended, the two offering you a place to stay with them, considering Emily had to move to Florida anyway.

You didn’t see her the day she left, you didn’t want to, knowing that if you did, you’d turn back to the bottle again something Christen and Tobin were keeping you FAR away from.

Hiking and meditating with Christen became a must, one of your favorite past times along with painting with Tobin, something you found you were really good at.

Soon, Emily Sonnett was the furthest thing from your mind, still, she wormed her way in, pictures of her face on Instagram making your heart crack all over again.

But each and every time Tobin and Christen were there to pick up the pieces.

Each and every time, they made you whole again.

***

In Florida, Emily couldn’t say the same thing.

The woman’s new found home wasn’t exactly homey, Alex, and Krashlyn had of course been welcoming, but still, something was missing.

The blonde thought MAYBE that something was a love life, but each and every date she found her tolerance for each and every man and woman dwindling.

Each and every date Emily couldn’t help but say to herself; well if it was Y/N, she would’ve gone out of her way to make me laugh, or if it was Y/N, she would’ve pulled the chair out for me and held the door open for me, or at least offered to pay for dinner.

Soon dates were utterly intolerable and Emily couldn’t bear to go on another.

The blonde couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting to you, wanting to know how you were doing, what you were doing, even surfing Instagram in search of posts you’ve made.

Alex, Ashlyn and Ali couldn’t pull her out of her funk, the three Orlando Pride players deciding to call in reinforcements in the form of Lindsey Horan and Kelley O’Hara.

“Alright, where is she?”

Emily’s ears perk up at the sound of a familiar voice, the woman briefly hoping, foolishly, that you would be with her, but of course, there was no way that was in the realm of possibility.

The blonde couldn’t help but jump to her feet when not only the usual Orlando Pride players made their way inside, but Lindsey and Kelley as well.

One look at the group and her bottom lip started to tremble, the woman throwing herself into Kelley and Lindsey’s embrace.

“I miss her. I miss her so much.” She sobs, Lindsey and Kelley’s hold on her tightening.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Maybe you should give her a call?” Kelley asks, and Emily shakes her head.

“She won’t talk to me...” She swallows hard and Lindsey hums.

“She and Christen are on a hike today, maybe Tobin will?”

Emily shrugs.

“Maybe.”

***

“Hey.” Tobin answers the FaceTime call, even through the tiny screen noticing the bags under Emily’s eyes.

“H-How are you doing?” She asks, and Tobin smiles.

“Pretty good, I never knew I could enjoy art so much...” She grins and Emily smiles softly, a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes.

“How’s Christen...?” She asks and Tobin hums, taking a swig of something Emily can’t see.

“Chris is great, she’s out with Y/N right now, we just got the rest of her stuff in her studio down the hall, she’s really happy to have her own place, but you know Chris and I liked to have her close so we can make sure she doesn’t start drinking again.” Tobin shrugs, Emily’s eyes widening.

“What do you mean drinking?”

Tobin’s eyes widen, as she glances away.

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” Tobin winces. “Look, I can’t tell you, that’s Y/N’s business, but she’s better now, Chris and I have been helping her through it.”

Emily nods, swiping at something on her face, something Tobin can’t see is a tear.

“Can you just... Keep an eye on her for me? Please?” She asks and Tobin nods.

“Of course.”

***

It’s weeks later when Emily sees your face, though not in the way she wants to see you, it’s through her phone’s screen.

“What does this one mean?” Tobin asks, the woman throwing an arm around your shoulder, the two of you staring at the painting hanging on the wall in front of you.

Emily watches as you study the painting, the woman smiling at the thoughtful look on your face.

“Forgiveness.” You state simply, Emily’s eyes widening, hazel orbs filling with tears.

“Moving on.” You nod, turning to Tobin in the video, the woman ruffling your hair before she throws her arms around you, Christen joining in on the hug before the video ends.

Emily is in literal tears.

She knew what moving on went.

You’d moved on from her.

And that was her own fault.

***

Emily woke with a groan, an annoying knocking at her apartment door making her snarl.

The glare she sends the apartment manager is deadly the woman clearing her throat when she realizes who it is.

“Rough night?” He asks and she nods.

“Rough week.”

“Package was too big for your box.” He holds the large box up and Emily’s brows furrow.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it.” She shrugs and the man nods.

“It’s alright.”

Emily doesn’t even realize the man’s gone, her eyes zeroed in on the package’s sender.

“Y/N...” She whispers, kicking the apartment door shut behind her, and sprinting to the table, tearing the box open as she goes.

Emily’s eyes widen the second she sees the box’s contents, her hands trembling as she holds the painting she’d seen days ago.

“What does this one mean?”

“Forgiveness. Moving on.”

Tears stream down Emily’s cheeks as she stares at the painting, her hands shaking as she holds the canvas, staring at what looks like a bright landscape, the sun rising over a darkened meadow.

“Moving on...” She whispers, fingers running across the painting, imagining you taking your time, panting it with her in mind.

It’s then she sees the envelope out of the corner of her eye, sitting neatly in the bottom of the box. She takes it in her hand, smiling when she realizes you didn’t lick the envelope shut, the woman grinning when she sees what you’d written on the underside of the envelope’s flap.

I didn’t shut the envelope; I know how much you hate tearing envelopes open :P

Emily shakes her head, tears slipping down her cheek as she opens the letter.

***

You stretch, staring down at the busy city below a cup of something Christen had INSISTED on you drinking, something that rejuvenated you AND in Christen words...

Gave you nutrients that you were lacking in your diet.

Tobin, of course, had been quick to agree.

A sudden crack of thunder makes you jump, and seconds later it’s as if a bucket of water is dumped on Portland, a bucket that is never ending.

You stand there, watching the rain fall, hoping it’ll taper off soon.

“Looks like we aren’t hiking today...” You mumble under your breath, a knock on your apartment door sounding the second after the words leave your mouth.

You sigh, making your way towards the door, tugging in open.

“Yeah, I know hiking is-

You stop mid-sentence, your eyes widening when you see that it’s not Christen standing behind the door, but Emily Sonnett.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, your eyes darting around her face, purple bags prominent beneath her eyes, the woman soaked from head to toe.

One look into your Y/E/C orbs and Emily bursts into tears, the woman throwing her arms around you, your arms slipping around hers.

Emily buries her nose in your neck, her hold on you tightening.

“I missed you so much…” She whispers and you sigh, letting the words you’d been holding back since you last parted spill out.

“I missed you too.”

***

“You forgive me...?” Emily whispers as you hand her a mug of cocoa, something Christen didn’t know you had, but if it was up to you, she wouldn’t ever find out.

You take a seat on the opposite couch, taking a deep breath, your eyes locking with Emily tired hazel orbs.

You nod.

“Look... I can’t fault you for...” You stiffen, your eyes fluttering shut as you steel your nerves.

“For not loving me like I loved you back then... You can’t make someone love you.” You shrug, missing the way Emily’s hazel orbs fill with tears.

The blonde takes a deep breath before moving to her feet, your eyes wide as you watch her take a seat beside you.

“I miss you Y/N... As... As my best friend.” Emily glances away, her heart aching in her chest as the words leave her mouth.

You smile softly, eyeing Emily’s profile, the woman fidgeting nervously.

“I want that back Y/N...” She turns towards you with tears in her eyes, tears that are reflected in your own.

You nod.

“I do too.”

A sudden knock sounds on your apartment door and you stand.

“Probably Christen telling me that our hike is cancelled.” You smirk, shaking your head, Emily’s hazel orbs on your back as you head towards the door.

The blonde smiles softly, her fingers drumming on the mug in her hands.

She was ready to see what being back in your life entailed for the two of you.

***

It’s shocking how easily you and Emily fell back into place, like two puzzle pieces slotting back together.

Emily had even been staying with you for a while, the two of you catching up with each and every aspect of one another’s life.

Except, there was one topic the two of you had noticeably avoided.

And that was the topic of relationships.

“So uhhh...” Emily clears her throat and your brows knit in confusion.

“Hmmm?”

“Have anyone special in your life?” Emily mumbles and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Honestly, no, I’ve been too busy with Chris and Tobin, I haven’t really had time to get out there.” You shrug.

“What about you?” You ask as you sip another drink Christen had, YET AGAIN, insisted you’d drink.

Emily scoffs.

“All the dates I went on were literally, so painful I mean nothing like-

Emily stops mid-sentence, her eyes wide.

“Nothing like, a real date should be.” She rushes out, cheeks flushed and you hum.

“Just didn’t click?” You ask, sipping your drink, your brows furrowing when something, you don’t know what, slips down your throat, your face scrunching up.

Emily grins, the beaming smile making her hazel orbs shine, her heart skipping a beat in her chest.

“Yeah, we just didn’t click.”

***

The two of you were inseparable, Emily taking part in the things you’d been doing with Christen, the defender QUICKLY realizing that meditating wasn’t her thing. When it came to doing things with Tobin, IE, painting, she preferred to just watch you and Tobin work, the blonde grinning at the look of pure concentration on your face.

“They could stand there for hours.” Christen flops down beside Emily on the couch, the two watching you and Tobin with a smile.

“I wouldn’t have the patience for it.” Emily shrugs, sipping her mug of coffee.

“Yeah, I mean you nearly die when we go hiking.” You smirk, Tobin letting out a lengthy snort.

Emily spits and sputters, rolling her eyes.

“I do not.”

“You nearly fell down the cliff we were on.”

Emily’s eyes narrow.

“I slipped! Sue me!”

Emily’s eyes widen when you walk over, literally slapping a bit of white paint on her face with a toothy grin.

“You did not just do that...” She wipes the paint off her face with her palm, staring at you with wide eyes.

Within a millisecond Emily is on you, the white paint you’d put on her face, now on YOUR face.

Tobin and Christen flop down on the couch, watching as the two of you have a proverbial, ‘paint war’ though you’re sure to keep the floors clean.

It’s when paint splatters on your painting that you both freeze, Tobin and Christen’s eyes wide as you turn to your painting.

“Y/N...” Emily starts, brows knitted in confusion when you grin.

“THAT’S IT.”

Emily’s eyes widen when you give her cheek a kiss and slide up to the wall, Tobin leaping over the coffee table to stand beside you.

Hazel orbs widen as they watch you work, a smile stretching across their owner's face as she watches you lips split into a massive grin.

Emily’s eyes widen when she feels the flapping of butterfly wings in her stomach, her face paling.

“Uh-oh.”

***

Emily had tried to deny what she’d begun to feel for you, but she couldn’t when the butterflies which had lay dormant in the pit of her stomach began flapping their wings at the mere sight of you.

“What’s eating you?”

Emily jumps at the sound of Lindsey’s voice, she, Emily, you, Tobin and Christen deciding it was perfect weather to take a hike to a nearby cliff that overlooked a body of water.

“N-Nothing.”

Tobin lets out a scoff from where she’s walking ahead of the two of them, the brunette glancing over her shoulder.

“Sonn, that was the least convincing thing I’ve EVER heard...”

Emily blows a raspberry at her, grumbling.

“Shouldn’t you be with Christen?”

Tobin turns around with a pout, best puppy dog eyes on display.

“She and Y/N left me...”

Emily pouts.

“It’s okay Toby, you can join us.”

Before she can join the two though, they hear a shout.

“Tobin where are you!?”

Tobin sends them a grin, shrugging before she races off, following Christen’s voice.

“COMING!”

***

Eventually they reach the top of the cliffs, the two blondes panting heavily, you, Christen and Tobin eyeing them with massive grins.

“How are your cheeks not even red?” Emily asks, her cheeks blood red as she pants.

You hand her your cold thermos of water, the woman eagerly, and greedily swallowing a few mouthfuls before she hands it back, at least tries to before Lindsey’s bottom lip juts out.

“Take it.” You nod to the thermos, Lindsey grinning as she downs the rest of the thermos’s contents.

You make your way to the edge of the cliff, taking in the beautiful landscape before you, the water shimmering beneath the suns glow.

Soon, Emily joins you standing at your side as the two of you looking over the horizon, unaware that your three teammates are smiling, their eyes on your back as Lindsey takes a stealthy photo of the two of you.

Tobin’s eyes widen when she sees the two of you turn towards one another, smiling softly at each other, smiling at one another in a way she hadn’t seen before.

She, Christen and Lindsey all share a glance, the three coming to the realization of what the look in not only Emily’s eyes, but your eyes must mean.

***

You kick your feet up, yawning as you throw back whatever it was Christen had handed you, letting out a lengthy sigh.

“Good?” She asks and you nod, humming.

“Good.”

“Do you just drink whatever she hands you?” Emily asks as she sips her juice and you shrug.

“I trust her.”

Emily leans towards you, your brows furrowed as she sniffs your cup, her face scrunching up, nose crinkled.

“It reeks...” She mumbles, a pillow appearing from out of nowhere and smacking her in the face.

“It’s healthy.” Christen chastises as she falls onto the other couch, beside Tobin.

“Be careful, she’ll have you drinking it too.” Tobin shrugs and Emily grimaces.

Lindsey flops down on the other side of the couch beside you.

“What? Her drinks are good, and they give me so much energy.” She shrugs, Emily gasping.

“She’s gotten you too...” She whispers, moving towards the door, her eyes wide and you snort.

“If you leave now, you’ll miss dinner.” You shrug, the defender humming before she moves to sit back down beside you.

“You have my attention.”

***

Dinner meant you, Tobin, Christen, Lindsey and Emily going into a nice restaurant, which meant, not dressing like a bunch of sewer rats.

Emily hums, peeking over your shoulder, her stomach rumbling.

“Please tell me you still eat like a bear.” She whispers, glaring at Christen. “Or has she been starving you?” She whispers and you snort.

“She doesn't know I have a stash of Oreos at home.” You whisper behind your menu and Emily grins.

“Now THAT’S what I’m talking about.”

The waitress gives you all a kind smile, taking your dinner and drink orders before she leaves the table.

Emily turns to you, a brow arched.

“Again, color me surprised.” Emily hums and your brows furrow.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t get any alcohol.”

Your eyes widen, as do Tobin’s and Christen’s, the two knowing full well why you hadn’t ordered a glass of your usual jack and coke.

You clear your throat, sipping your water.

“Just wasn’t feeling it today.” You shrug, Emily hums, her hazel orbs narrowed.

“Ye-Yeah, sure.”

You take a swig of your water, taking a deep breath.

You knew you’d have to tell her the truth, to tell her what happened after the two of you had parted. You jump at the feel of Emily’s arm slipping around your middle.

Hazel orbs lock with Y/E/C orbs and Emily smiles.

“Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” She grins, a grin that makes your heart skip a beat in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach flapping their wings.

“Thanks, Em, I appreciate it.”

***

The second you return to your studio apartment you kick the door shut behind you, turning on your heels to find Emily standing behind you a worried frown on her face.

“Before I tell you, I want you to promise me that you won’t blame yourself...” You mumble, Emily’s hazel orbs widening.

“Wha-

“Promise me Em.” You whisper, the blonde blinking rapidly before she nods.

“I-I promise.”

You take a deep breath, pulling her towards your balcony, the two of you leaning on the rail, overlooking the city.

You’re unable to look at Emily as you begin to speak.

“After we broke up, I uhhh, I wasn’t doing well...” You mumble, glancing down at your shuffling feet.

Emily can feel a lump growing in the back of her throat as she watches you fidget.

You inhale sharply when she scoots closer, her hand resting on top of yours that’s resting on the balcony’s railing.

“Tell me Y/N, I want to know.” She whispers and you nod, swallowing hard.

You take a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I started drinking... Even before the season ended...”

Emily’s eyes slam shut, images of you staggering on field, Tobin and Christen at your side to steady you standing out prominent in her mind.

“Chris and Tobe were there for me the entire time, I was spiraling...” You stare at your feet, unable to look at the woman who still has a hold of your hand.

“When we came back to Portland I... As you know I went to live with them...” You turn towards Emily, eyes glassy with tears.

“That’s why I didn’t see you when I left... I didn’t want to relapse, I’m sor-

Emily shakes her head, cupping your cheeks, ridding them of tears you hadn’t realized had started to fall.

“Don’t be sorry.” She shakes her head, gently caressing your cheek. “Please.”

You sigh, leaning into her touch.

“Okay...”

Emily’s hands slip from your cheeks, the woman scooting closer until her head meets your shoulder, you lean over, your head resting on hers.

“Tobin and Christen kept me in line, it wasn’t always easy, but when I started spending more time with them, hiking, painting, I felt more like myself, soon alcohol was the last thing on my mind.”

Emily nods, her heart aching in her chest.

She’d done that to you.

She put you in a place you almost never came back from.

“Listen, Em.” You slip an arm around her, pulling her close. “Don’t blame yourself...” You whisper, the blonde shaking her head.

“How can I not?”

You take a deep breath.

“You weren’t in love with me...” You shrug. “You couldn’t help it, and I understood...”

Emily turns her head, her forehead resting against your cheek.

“I never stopped caring about you.” She whispers, her lips brushing cheek making your heart stutter in your chest.

“I never stopped caring for you either Em... We just...” You swallow hard, the words crawling up your throat leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“We just weren’t meant to be together in that way.”

At the confession, the first of Emily’s tears streak down her cheeks, the woman sniffling as she closes her eyes.

The words feel like venom in her mouth, the taste of bile on her tongue.

She nods.

“You’re right.”

You turn towards Emily, wrapping your arms tightly around her, pulling her close.

Emily’s nails scrape against the back of your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you hum, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering their wings.

You did your best to ignore them.

***

“Em, wait... Please...” You shake your head, watching as tears steam down the blonde’s face. She shakes her head.

“I can’t Y/N, I think it’s best if we just stay away from each other... I’ll see you at camp.” She says solemnly, slipping out of your apartment, and out of your life.

***

“Y/N! WAKE UP!”

You sit up with a gasp, head on a swivel as you take in your darkened apartment.

“E-Em?” You rasp, the blonde taking a deep breath.

“Jesus. Finally, I couldn’t wake you up you’re a-

Suddenly, you lunge at her, wrapping your arms tightly around her, the blonde’s arms slipping around you.

“Hey, it’s okay...” She whispers and you shake your head.

“No, no, you left, and you didn’t want anything to do with me and I just-

Emily shushes you softly, her hazel orbs fluttering shut as her hands run gently down your back.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’m here...” She whispers, tears streaming down your cheeks as you bury yourself in her embrace, hiding your face in her neck.

Emily sighs, tightening her hold on you.

“I’m here Y/N, I’m not going anywhere...” She whispers and you sniffle, pulling back to look in her tear-filled hazel orbs.

“Promise?” You whisper and Emily smiles softly, cupping your cheeks, gently swiping each and every one of your tears away.

“I promise.”

***

The season’s start was drawing nearer and nearer, which meant soon, Emily would be heading back to Orlando to practice with the Pride, where as you were staying in Portland to practice with the Thorns.

The closer the time came, the more your heart ached, the more you yearned for the blonde, yearned to tell her the true extent of your feelings, yearned to tell her that you wanted more, but you couldn’t.

You couldn’t be rejected again; you couldn’t again be rejected by the woman you loved.

Lindsey huffs loudly when you leave the table, launching a crouton across the table at Emily who squeaks.

“What!?” She asks, hazel orbs wide as she wipes the crumbs off her shirt.

“Tell her how you feel idiot.” She sends the defender a glare, the woman’s cheeks flushed pink.

“I-I don’t-

Lindsey goes to launch another crouton across the table but Tobin stops her, grabbing her hand.

“Sonn...” She whispers, taking a deep breath.

Emily glances down at her lap, swallowing hard.

“I can’t... I don’t deserve her after what I did.” Emily shrugs. “I broke her heart and-

Christen slips an arm around the blonde, sending her a small smile.

“And you’ve mended it.”

Emily hazel orbs fill with tears, a smile stretching across her face, a smile that’s wiped away within a few seconds.

“That’s why I can’t break it again.”

The blonde remains silent as you drop down in your seat beside her, a frown on your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You ask, covering her hand with your own and Emily sniffles, swiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

“N-Nothing, just allergies.”

Your eyes narrow.

Emily was one of the WORST liars in the world, the woman unable to look at you as the words left her mouth.

You intertwine your fingers with Emily’s, giving her a soft smile.

“Whatever it is Em...”

You give her hand a squeeze.

“I’m here for you...”

Emily smiles, squeezing your hand back.

“I know Y/N.” She whispers, smiling softly at you, her eyes still teeming with tears.

“I know.”

***

The day Emily Sonnett leaves, a piece of your heart goes with her.

You didn’t want her to go.

She didn’t want to go.

But she had to, she had to because her team was in Orlando, and yours was here.

“Call me every day?” You ask, bottom lip trembling at Emily sniffles, throwing her arms around your neck.

“Every day.” Emily buries her face in your neck.

“Answer every day?” She asks and you snort, squeezing her tightly.

You wanted nothing more than to keep her in your arms, keep her here with you, but you couldn’t, you couldn’t because she was needed elsewhere, and you couldn’t because if you loved her, you’d do what was best and let her go, even if it meant she wouldn’t be yours.

Emily pulls back, cupping your cheeks, ridding them of tears with the pads of her thumbs.

“We’ll see each other again.” She whispers, resting her forehead against yours. “I mean, I have to show you up when the Thorns face the Pride, don’t I?” She grins, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips split into a grin.

“In your dreams Sonnett.”

Your eyes flutter open, Y/E/C orbs locking with her hazel orbs.

“I’m gonna miss you.” She whispers and you sniffle.

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

***

Watching Emily Sonnett walk away was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, watching as half of your heart walked away, half of your heart within Emily’s hands.

Again, you’d wanted to turn towards the bottle to prevent your loneliness, to numb the pain, but thanks to Tobin and Christen, you didn’t, instead hiking, and jogging with the two, preparing for the season with the Thorns.

Ultimately, Christen had to head back to Utah, but you were far from alone, though this time instead of it being Christen, Tobin and Lindsey it was Tobin, Lindsey and Becky,

It was after practice one day that Lindsey took a deep breath, glancing at you, watching as you sadly stared at your cleated feet.

“How’s Em?” She asks, watching as your ears perk up.

“She’s good, apparently the three A’s are taking good care of her.” You smile, referring to Ali, Ashlyn and Alex.

You were thankful for the three of them, Emily had made her home with the Thorns, and leaving them behind was like leaving her family behind, so to have Ali, Ashlyn and Alex made it easier for her to transition.

***

Across the world, Emily was in a similar situation, walking side by side with Ali, Ashlyn and Alex, her eyes on her feet.

“How’s Y/N doing?” Ashlyn asks, noting the way Emily’s eyes light up, a smile stretching across her face.

“She’s doing good, Tobin and Becky are keeping her out of trouble.”

What she hadn’t told them though was that the Pride would NEVER be the same as the Thorns, because you weren’t on the team.

Alex, Ali and Ashlyn had somewhat dulled the ache in her heart, but only YOU were truly the one who could dull the ache in her heart entirely, considering half of her heart stayed in Portland with you.

Ashlyn slips an arm around Emily, the goalie sending her a soft smile.

“You’ll see her soon, I mean, the Pride HAS to square off against the Thorns eventually, right?” She nudges her and Emily smiles.

Across the country Lindsey is doing the same, nudging you with a grin.

Unbeknownst to you and Emily you utter the same words at the same time.

“You’re right and I can’t wait.”

***

You were in love with Emily Ann Sonnett, that was an undeniable truth, but what was also an undeniable truth was that you were absolutely terrified. Terrified that you’d again be rejected by the blonde, something you knew you wouldn’t be able to take again.

You couldn’t hold back how you felt anymore. Unlike before, when you’d put as much distance between you and Emily as you could, this time, you’d craved to see her, longed to hear her laugh, and see her smile, indeed her absence HAD made your heart grow fonder and fonder of her, so much so that when you saw her again, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

“Hey, where’s your head at?” Lindsey gives you a nudge from her seat on the bus and you smile.

“N-Nothing...”

“Em?” She asks and your smile widens.

“Maybe.”

Lindsey snorts.

“Maybe.” She mocks, earning a swat from Becky.

“Ready to see her?” Tobin asks and you lick your lips, shrugging.

“Ye-Yeah, but...”

You take a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest.

“I...” You close your eyes, swallowing hard.

“What is it?” Becky asks and you take a deep breath.

“I’m worried I won’t be able to stop myself from telling her I love her.”

Your eyes widen, as do Lindsey’s, Tobin’s and Becky’s.

Tears well up in your eyes as you turn towards them.

“I-

Lindsey cups your cheeks, smiling.

“Maybe you shouldn’t stop yourself?” She shrugs and you scoff.

“I can’t get my heartbroken again... I can’t...” You mumble, your bottom lip jutted out and Lindsey smiles.

“I don’t think it will happen again...”

Your eyes narrow, brows knitted in confusion.

“How can you be so sure?”

Tobin and Becky share a glance, both smiling as you turn to them.

“We just know.”

You swallow hard, eyes again dropping to your lap.

“I don’t know guys...” You whisper, turning away from the three of them.

“I don’t know.”

***

“Excited?” Ashlyn asks as she and the rest of her USWNT and Orlando Pride teammates wait for the Thorns to arrive, Emily absolutely giddy at the prospect of seeing you again.

“Yeah, I am. Can’t wait to see Y/N...” She smiles, eyes narrowing when she sees Ashlyn, Ali and Alex, all looking at her in a peculiar way.

“What?” She asks, earning a snort from Alex.

“You forgot Tobin, Lindsey and Becky.” She winks, the blonde’s eyes widening.

“Oh...”

Ashlyn grins, clapping her shoulder.

“Em, when are you going to tell her?” She asks, Emily’s hazel orbs widening.

“Tell her what?” She asks dumbly, eyes widening when Ali cups her cheeks.

“That you love her.”

Emily’s eyes widen further, her mouth opening and closing as her hazel orbs dart between the three women.

“I...” She starts, unable to find the words she’s looking for, her mouth snapping shut seconds later, the woman unable to continue the lie.

“What if she doesn’t love me back...?” Emily whispers, a tear streaking down her cheek, the blonde and her Orlando Pride teammates unaware that their fellow USWNT teammates from the Portland Thorns are making their way towards them.

“Hey.” Ali grins when she sees you, Tobin, Lindsey and Becky.

Emily’s eyes widen as she turns around, a grin stretching across her face when your eyes lock.

In a split second she’s in your arms, her arms wrapped around your neck, yours slipping around her middle.

Emily nuzzles into your neck, the woman sighing at the feel of being in your arms again.

Your USWNT teammates are all smiles as they watch the two of you reunite.

“I’ve missed you.” Emily whispers in your ear, the woman’s heart whole again as the two of you embrace.

Not only is her heart whole, but yours is as well, the woman’s chest against yours bringing your heart together as well.

“I missed you too Em, so much.”

***

“You can’t take your eyes off of her.” Carson Pickett nudges Emily with a grin, the blonde’s bottom lip jutted outward.

Again though, hazel orbs drift to the field where you’re playing, immediately locking onto your running form, the black and white ball at your feet.

“Have you told her how you feel?” Carson asks, the blonde shrugging.

“We were together before and it didn’t work out...” She mumbles, her gaze falling to her cleated feet. “I broke her heart back then.”

Carson smiles when she sees you glance across field, smiling at the oblivious defender beside her.

“It looks to me like you put it together again.”

Emily picks her head up, hazel orbs locking with your Y/E/C orbs across field, a smile stretching across your face.

Emily smiles.

“Maybe you’re right.”

***

“YES!” Emily throws a fist in the air as you jump into her arms, hugging her tightly.

Everyone on the field freeze your USWNT teammates slapping their foreheads with their palms.

“Did they forget they're on different teams?” Tobin shakes her head as Alex snorts.

“Yeah, I think they did.”

You slip out of Emily’s hold, your eyes wide and face red when you look down at her jersey.

“Ummm...” You blush, Emily following your gaze, her eyes widening.

“Oh...”

You both clear your throat, glancing away, your teammates all smiling as Emily punches you in the shoulder.

“Lucky assist.” She scoffs and you hum.

“Lucky had nothing to do with it Em.” You wink, the blonde huffing as she shoves you.

“Sure, it didn’t.”

You stick your tongue out at her as the two of you part, Emily unable to bite back her smile.

“Forget you were on the opposite team?” Tobin asks as you pass and you huff.

“No...”

“Sure, you didn’t.”

***

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, too bad.” Emily sticks her tongue out at you, as she helps you to your feet, blades of grass sticking to your face thanks to the currently soaked field.

Moments before the second half it started to rain, and not just a little, small puddle forming on the field beneath your cleats.

Emily wipes your face off with her sleeve.

“Stupid grass.” She mumbles, and you smile, cheeks flushed.

“Thanks, Em.”

“Can’t have grass on that pretty face, can we?” She teases, her eyes widening for a split second before she makes a run for it.

You bite your bottom lip, running down field, by passing Becky.

“She said my face was pretty.” You grin, the defender shaking her head with a laugh.

“OH GOD I SAID HER FACE WAS PRETTY.” Emily squeaks as she runs past Alex, the forward shaking her head.

She and Becky both mumble under their breaths at the same time.

“Hopeless.”

***

You’d missed her.

Missed the dynamic between the two of you as teammates, but now, now you were opponents, and still in a way, things hadn’t changed.

The final whistle blows and the first one to get to you is Emily, the blonde throwing her arms around you, the two of you crashing to the ground.

Emily straddles your middle, pushing herself up on her palms as she hovers over you, blinking rapidly.

“I-I’m sorry...” Emily stutters, moving to get off of you, but when you cup her cheeks, she stills.

Uncaring that you’re entirely soaked, you stroke a droplet of water off her face, the blonde’s hazel orbs fluttering shut.

Emily’s tongue swipes at her lips.

“I missed you.” She whispers, leaning into your touch. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Your fingers tangle in the back of Emily’s hair, the blonde’s eyes flashing open when you pull her down, your lips meeting for the first time in so long.

Emily’s lips move against yours in a way that’s familiar but also entirely new, the spark of something you hadn’t felt before stimulating each and every one of your nerve endings.

The two of you reluctantly part, eyes fluttering open at nearly the same time, Y/E/C orbs searching her face for any signs of reluctance, any sign of regret, something you’re relieved to say you find none of.

Emily smiles softly, neither caring that you’re on a soaked field, in the pouring rain with thousands of eyes on you, all you can see is one another, all you can see is Emily’s soft smile as she stares down at you.

A lone tear runs down Emily’s face, the single droplet dripping down onto your shirt as you cup her cheeks.

“I never stopped loving you...” You whisper, Emily’s hazel orbs wide as your confession pierces her ears.

She smiles, leaning back in, her lips once again, tenderly meeting yours.

The two of you part, Emily’s nose brushing yours.

“I love you... I always have, I just didn’t realize it until I lost you...” She whispers, the woman nuzzling into your palm, her hazel orbs hidden behind her closed eyelids.

You stare lovingly up at the woman, your heart racing in your chest, your eyes sparkling with nothing but love.

“You never lost me.”

#uswnt x reader #emily sonnett #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnet imagine

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princecharmingmendes · 5 years ago

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His Hoodie | Raul Mendes

"Raul is still insecure when it comes to asking his girlfriend about some stuff, like cuddles and wearing his clothes, and he's pretty sure he's sneaky about it, until he isn't”

Hello my loves, this was supposed to be a blurb or something like it, but I can't seem to be able to write something short and I accidentally turned this into a one shot. This is just me being 100% sure Raul's baby and shy about relationships, with the push from one and only @sinceweremutual, who's just as obsessed with Raul as me. Hope you like it!

*Word Count: 4.5k+.

*Warnings: maybe a few curse words, and I guess that's it. Just overwhelmingly fluff.

*Posted: July 13th, 2020.

-*-

Raul Mendes is a very busy guy. Even though Shawn’s the rockstar that’s constantly traveling around the world and stuff, he still manages to get involved in a serious relationship. Raul’s never been the type to be open about his feelings, so in his entire life he’s had one girlfriend that he took home to meet his parents. And with work things only got worse. Being a pediatric surgeon meant waking up in unholy hours to go to shifts or because he’s being called in on an emergency. So to say relationships were not his forte or priority was the most accurate thing ever. Sure, he had his flings here and there, always a very attentive person, but still was a bit afraid of having someone and not being present enough or having to put his job first. So when he told his parents he was going out with someone was a big thing.

First of all, Raul’s really private about his love life, even with his parents, just opens up with his brothers, specially Peter who’s a very great listener and great with advice. And the second reason everyone was a bit surprised is that since he always claimed he didn’t have time to be with someone, suddenly he was going out on dates a few times a week and even took her dog to the doctor when she was busy with work. And obviously, everyone was over the moon when he decided to bring her home for dinner, and it was pretty clear why he was so fond of her. And to say everyone adored Y/N was and understatement. They both had met in a art supply store a few months ago. And even though it was a bit cliche, every time someone asked both of them how you two met, a grin threatened to show on his face and his arm skipped a beat.

He was in a rush, just trying to find the color he needed to finish a painting, which was his favorite hobby to slow down from his intense work, and she was completely lost looking around like she had no idea where she was. Normally he wouldn’t even notice, but something about her in a pretty sunflower printed summer dress, jean jacket and white converse caught his attention. He felt almost itchy to offer you some help, but he didn’t work here and he didn’t want to come out as a creep, so he ignored his need to talk to her and went on through the walls of paint to find the perfect blue shade, until he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around only to face her heavenly features and a blush raising in her cheeks.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but I can’t seem to find someone to help and I just wanted to know where can I find watercolor brushes, do you happen to know where they are?” The girl in the pretty dress offered him a sweet smile.

“Oh, it’s okay, you’re not a bother, what kind of watercolor brushes you’re looking for?”

“Oh God, there are types of those?!” she sounded pretty much defeated, letting out a sigh and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“What do you have in mind to paint with those?”

“It’s not even for me! I can’t draw a basic heart shape for dear life, I’m here to buy the supplies for someone, but he forgot to mention the details about it and I don’t know anything about art rather than history and which work I find pretty or not”

“It’s all about practice, honey” the pet name slipped of his tongue before he could hold back but she didn’t seem alarmed or weirded out by it, just blushed a bit harder and shook her head.

“I can guarantee you I’m a lost cause”

“I doubt that, but about the supplies, did he give you a list or something?”

“Oh, yeah!” she replied reaching into the inner pocket of her jacket for a little piece of paper with a delicate handwriting on it “I wrote it down in here”

“I think I might be able to help if you want” Raul offered doing a once over the little list.

“Oh please, this would be perfect”

“Okay, so what did your pick up already?”

“Hm, a few types of paper and some pencils” she gave him her little basket “Here!”

“Oh, okay, so we have to find the brushes and the paint” he said and she nodded, following him around the store like a lost puppy “here are the paints he requested, we just have to find the shades”

And with that they started going through the little numbers on the little containers and talk about random stuff. Raul never had so much fun looking through shades of paint with anyone before. She was just funny and pleasant to talk with, not to mention effortlessly beautiful.

“Now the brushes?”

“Yeah, they’re over here, I’d recommend this ones here for the sort of thing you told he’s trying to do, maybe from this sizes” Raul said picking them up.

“Oh, fine”

“Anything else?”

“I guess this is it! Thank you so much, I’d probably have spent the whole day trying to figure this whole thing out alone”

“It’s my pleasure to help, no need to thank me, next time you know where the stuff are”

“Trust me, there won’t be next time, Nick can come here by himself, if it weren’t for you I’d be screwed”

“Well, at least your boyfriend won’t be needing to come back so soon with everything you’re taking”

“Nick’s not my boyfriend” she said chuckling “he’s just a lazy ass friend and I needed to come here to pick up some stuff for work”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”

“No, you didn’t do it at all, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name”

“Raul”

“Oh, well, thank you, Raul, I’m Y/N”

“It’s a beautiful name” Raul said and she smiled at him, blushing lightly.

“Thank you, I’m sorry for bothering you, do you need any help?”

“It’s okay, and you don’t need to help me, only if you want to”

“I do! What do you need?” she offered as he picked up her basket from the floor and guided her to where he was previously.

“I was looking for a particular shade of blue but I can’t seem to find, and I tried mixing some shades to get to them but I can’t”

“Oh, do you have a picture of it?” she asked looking at the huge wall of oil paint.

He unlocked his phone and offered to her “This one”

“I think I saw it earlier, it caught my eye as soon as I walked in here” she said walking in the opposite direction and crouching down “here”

As Raul got a bit closer he noticed it was the perfect shade and he couldn’t hold back a smile “It’s exactly it! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome” she grabbed her stuff with a smile “it was nice meeting you, Raul”

“It was nice meeting you too, Y/N” he said and she waved at him, turning around to pay for her stuff as he stood there contemplating on asking her out, but before he could think about it better.

“Hey, Raul?” she called from where she stood at the cashier counter and he turned to face her “are you busy right now? There’s a new coffee shop down the block and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me”

Right now it didn’t matter the painting he was eager to go home to finish, all he wanted to do was sit down with her at a table and drink coffee until he couldn’t take it anymore.

So he just smiled at her and said “Sure”

And since then they’ve been inseparable.

So it’s no surprise when called her on a Friday to invite her to come over, they had plans to go out and catch a movie but he was too tired and she was thankful, her day at work was insane and all she needed was to relax a bit. And even though she hadn’t spent the night at his place many times before and she’d probably get all jittery about it, she was too tired to care. So when she arrived with a bottle of whine to the smell of homemade pasta mixed with Raul’s signature cologne, she was almost certain she was in heaven. He told her to just walk in and lock the door behind her, so she did, placing her stuff neatly near the door alongside with his and her boots.

She knew the place well enough to find him in the kitchen, listening to a random song as he hummed along facing the stove where he was preparing something. Staring was bad, but she couldn’t help it when he was looking all soft. It was the first time she’s ever seen him wearing a hoodie and she was so grateful it was starting to get a bit colder, specially during the night, so she would have such a blessed vision. Y/N placed the bottle on the counter, clearing her throat softly to let him know she was already there, which made him look over his shoulder with a soft smile playing on his gorgeous lips.

“Hey, pretty girl” he greeted turning off the stove and turning to face her, opening his arms for her, to which she gladly walked into.

She buried her face on the soft material of his hoodie as she mumbled a soft “hi” in response.

“Tired?” he asked and Y/N just nodded, so he placed a kiss to her hair and hummed “food’s almost ready, want to wait for it on the living room? You can pick the movie” and with that she nodded, reluctantly unwrapping herself from him and basically dragging herself to his fluffy rug.

Raul only chuckled in response.

“There’s a bottle of whine somewhere in the kitchen I just brought” she told him from where she was sitting on the floor by his coffee table.

“Thanks, babe” was his only response as he couldn’t hold back his smile.

Raul could get used to this whole kinda domestic atmosphere. Y/N coming home from work a bit later than him, tired and stressed, so he would cook her dinner and cuddle on his living room while watching a movie and drinking some whine or whatever. And maybe, they could switch places and when he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed and stressed, she could run him a bath and rub his back. But he couldn’t think about it now. It was too soon and he didn’t know if she would want that. This was the first time they would actually spend some time at home together that wasn’t between his sheets (or hers), and breakfast in the morning. He’s not allowing himself to get all fucked up for someone and having his heart broken, he’s seen this movie before and he didn’t like it.

But all his insecurities died when he found her sitting on the floor by his coffee table, her legs close to her chest and she was staring at the screen, waiting patiently for him to start the movie, knowing he’s seen it a billion times and wouldn’t mind sitting down in the middle of it. He just felt like wrapping her in his arms and tucking her into his chest, but he didn’t, instead he set the plates and glasses down as he plopped down beside her. She then leaned forward and pressed play, and as the screen started to gain some life, she turned to him and pressed and soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, this is just what I needed”

“Yeah, I needed this too” he said trying to fight his smile.

“Tough day?”

“A bit, but now it’s okay” he said and she just nodded, quickly changing the subject, and he was happy she just got him and that sometimes he didn’t need or want to talk about it, and respected it.

“This is amazing! Is it your mom’s recipe?”

“Nonna’s actually” he replied and she smiled at him.

“Well, it’s fantastic”

And from that, they just fell into easy conversation. They both could feel the stress literally lifting off their bones and melting away in each other’s presence. And it was always like this, simple and easy, they could read each other like a book and always fulfill their needs easily. So when they’re done with dinner, she picked up their stuff, under his protest and took to the kitchen, putting it on his dishwasher, claiming he did all the work cooking it was the least she could do. And when she was back, the sat back down on the floor since they were too comfortable before to move to the couch.

Raul’s always been a fan of cuddling, one of his “biggest” secret. He’d never initiate it, afraid the other person would reject it or him and Y/N never showed any signs she was a cuddle bug either, which is way they never really cuddled. So when she was slowly inching closer to him and leaning on his side, he was surprised, but in a good way. Raul let his arm casually drop on her shoulder and she leaned in further into his chest, until she was basically almost on top of him, with their limbs tangled under the coffee table and he wasn’t upset with it at all. He started drawing little patterns on her back and in return she placed a kiss on his chest, nuzzling her face there a bit.

So when he felt she was falling asleep towards the end of the movie, he decided to coax her to bed, and it wasn’t as easy as he thought. She whined a bit whenever he attempted to move, only calming down when he told her he was taking them to bed so they could lay down together. After that she seemed to be more aware and a bit embarrassed by her previous clingy state, so she just nodded and got up, getting her stuff by the door and following him to his bed. They both followed their nightly routine normally and laid down. He tempted reaching a hand to hold hers, and she turned on her side to face him as he did the same, lacing their pinkies together over the duvet.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, afraid to disturb their peaceful bubble.

“About what?”

“Leaning so much into you, never asked you if you minded, I guess I was just tired and didn’t really think about invading your personal space”

“Hey, hey, hey” he said gently squeezing their laced fingers “I didn’t mind at all, I actually liked it, I like being close, I just thought you didn’t so I never tried it”

“Oh really? I’m sorry, I actually really like cuddling, it’s just I was afraid it would upset you so I never did, it’s just that today you were looking extra soft and cute, I guess my exhausted brain didn’t care and just went for it”

“Well- I’m glad it did” Raul said placing a kiss on the back of her hand and she automatically shuffled closer to him, which made him place a hand on her waist, pulling her a bit closer to him.

“I think it was the hoodie”

“The hoodie did it for you?” Raul asked with a smirk and she giggled, her eyes looking a lot smaller from exhaustion.

“Oh, shut up” she said with a roll of the eyes as she reached to play of the curls at the back of his head, something she found out he liked very much “but yeah, it’s just- you’re always looking like a runaway model or an actor from a movie, so seeing you so cozy and soft just-“

“Did it for you?” he offered with a boyish glint on his honey orbes.

“Yes, Raul, it did it for me” she said holding back a giggle as she rolled her eyes “Happy?”

“Very much” he said rolling over her making her squeal “you’re cute”

“You’re cuter” she said with a lazy grin on her lips and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to it.

“You need to rest” he said after pulling away, but before he could lay back, she wrapped her arms around his neck keeping him in place.

“Can we-?”

“Cuddle?” he finished her sentence and she nodded sheepishly “of course we can, baby”

“Thank you” she mumbled as he laid back and pulled her to his chest.

“No need to thank me, you’re doing me a favor”

“Trust me, I’m not” she said with a yawn.

“Time to go to sleep, Y/N, doctor’s order”

“You’re way too bossy, Doc” she said nuzzling her face on his chest “but I’m to tired to argue back, so goodnight, Raul”

“Goodnight, pretty girl”

-*-

Since the first time she saw him in a hoodie and actually made her cuddle him for the first time as well, she noticed he were it a lot more often. Sure, it was getting colder, but he wasn’t being discreet about it. And since that day he couldn’t stop himself from picturing Y/N in his hoodie on a lazy Friday night, a face mask, some movie playing on the background as she painted both of their nails. But he just didn’t know how to bring it up and not make a fool of himself. She never made a move about asking to use his clothes or whatever. Sure, she always complimented him on his style and he knew a few particular pieces that got certain reactions from her, but she never told him she’d like to wear them.

So he was having a bit of a dilemma. Should he ask her to use his hoodie or just get over it?

He decided for the later, just pretend he didn’t want to come home to find her laying on his couch drowning on his clothes and blankets. But after a few days he gave up, he had what he thought to be a brilliant idea. Raul was going to put one of his hoodies on her wardrobe without her knowing, and if she found it and decided to wear, it was a sign she would be okay with it, and since she wasn’t going to know he was the one who placed it there, he wouldn’t be feeling like he was being pushy. And that’s what he did.

He went to her house on a Tuesday to watch their show and was discreet enough to just throw it on her top drawer and come back to the living room as if nothing happened while she was cooking them something. And since she didn’t say anything about it or tried to return it he felt a bit better, so that could mean two things -she didn’t find it or she didn’t mind. And they’re both kinda great and he was a bit relieved. That until he was heading home Saturday evening for their lazy night date or whatever Y/N called it. So when his phone rang and her name appeared on the screen he didn’t think much of it.

“Hi, pretty girl, are you there already? I’m sorry if I’m a bit late, there was this kid that really needed help”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you”

“No, I’m already done, I’m leaving now”

“Oh, okay, I still at home, just got here, I’m picking up some stuff, what do you want me to bring?”

“You don’t need to bring anything, baby, we can order something or I can go grab whatever you want”

“Okay, so I’m just going to pack my stuff and I’ll meet you there, is that alright?”

“That’s perfect” Raul said already smiling like the love sick puppy he’s becoming, climbing on his car.

“Oh, by the way, you’re a sneaky little thing, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” he let out a nervous chuckle to mask the high pitched voice he almost let out.

“I’ll talk to you at your place, drive safely, Sherlock, bye now!”

“Wait, Y/N!” he tried but she already hung up and he could literally feel his face burning.

-*-

Raul’s never felt so nervous about Y/N before. The drive to his place was relatively short and he spent the whole ride chewing on his lower lip, tapping the steering wheel and regretting every life decision he’s ever made. He knew there was no need to feel like this, she clearly wasn’t upset and sounded playful on the phone, but he was really embarrassed. He should have just asked her, he knew she wouldn’t find it weird, but he was too insecure to do so and now he has to deal with this. He got up to his apartment and did his routine to take a quick shower and change into something comfy completely robotically, mind still a hundred miles per second. And when he heard his doorbell he basically ran to the door, tripping at everything on his way there.

He opened the door ready to apologize and completely breathless, but when his eyes met her frame adorned on his hoodie he swear his heart just stopped. She giggled at his reaction and stood on her tippy toes to press a single kiss to his lips. He stepped back to let her in still in shock as she walked into his apartment. He could clearly hear her voice cheerfully telling about something, but he didn’t register a single word, mind still racing but this time he didn’t even know what to say or do. She must have noticed him standing awkwardly beside the still opened door, so she walked back to him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Are you okay, Raul?” her voice sounder a bit more worried and her brows were turned into a frown “what’s wrong?”

“I’m- I’m sorry” was all he could mumble out and the frown on her face o my deepened.

“About what, baby?”

“The hoodie, I- I shouldn’t have tried to give it to you without asking if you minded, and I’m sorry I suck at communicating, and I-“ he started and he felt the blush raising on his cheeks.

“Hey, stop it” she said letting her stuff fall on the floor trying to cup his cheeks in both of her hands “Baby, stop apologizing, I’m not mad at you at all, I found it really sweet actually”

“You did?”

“Of course, Raul! You told me you were not the best with relationships when we first started dating and Peter told me sometimes you get really insecure and I know what I was getting myself into from the beginning and turned out you’re not bad at it at all!”

“No?”

“No, honey, the fact that you care enough about how I’d feel if you asked me to wear this is the sweetest thing, it means you don’t want to push anything on me and that you care, and that’s great”

“It is?”

“Mhmm” Y/N hummed starting to caress his cheek “just so you know, this feels very comfortable and I wouldn’t mind wearing at all, I actually like it”

“Good to know” he said wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“That is my boy” she said and he laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead “I’m sorry if I scared you or anything, didn’t mean to frighten you”

“It’s okay, I should’ve known you’d be okay with this”

“Next time just tell me, okay? I don’t bite”

“I can prove the opposite”

“Oh shut up for a sec, will you?” she tried to sound mad, but the smile on her voice told otherwise “but I’m serious when I tell you to just talk to me”

“I know, I’ll try, I guess I’m just scared to lose you or be an idiot”

“You won’t, I really really care about you”

“And I’m in love with you”

“What?!”

“Yeah” he said smiling sheepishly with a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I kinda am in love with you too” she replied as he pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss.

And with that, he was sure everything fell into place and his heart calmed down a bit. He had his girlfriend on his arms and that was an angel for understanding him like she does. But before he could deepen the kiss she pulled back.

“Okay, now that we’re fine, can you please shut the door? Don’t want your neighbors knowing everything about us just yet” she said giggling and Raul laughed, closing the door with a click, still holding her close like she could just disappear.

“Sorry, thought Mr. Jones had the right to know the ins and outs of our relationship”

“Hmm... maybe other day, we should ask him for dinner first” Y/N said winking at him playfully and leaning down to grab her bad “now, how about we order a pizza and try the new face mask I bought, I could even paint our nails, I’ll let you apply the glittery nail polish on mine if you want”

“Oh, that’d be nice, I-“ he started out completely in shock she knew what he’d like to do.

“Peter told me” she informed him with a sheepish smile and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“I’m so going to murder him, you two have to stop talking about me” Raul didn’t mean it at all, he couldn’t be happier that she got along so well with his family “I don’t want him telling you all my secrets”

“Oh, so I wasn’t supposed to see all your baby pics and first photoshoot as a teen looking all cute with braces? I mean, Peter gave me the album, I thought we could look through it tonight together”

“You have to be kidding me, give me it”

“No! You’re not going to let me see it!”

“Of course! Why would I let you see any of those horrid pictures?!”

“Well” Y/N said holding her bad closer to her chest “you’d have to catch me first” and with that she bolted towards his room as he followed her quickly, only to pick her up and toss her on the bed, climbing on top of her in a matter of seconds, her stuff long forgotten on the floor somewhere in the apartment.

“How old are you? Five?” he chuckled a little out of breath

“You chased after me, you’re not much better, sir”

“I was trying to protect my dignity”

“What dignity?”

“Shut up” he said laughing.

“Make me”

“Don’t tease me”

“I’d never do th-“ she was cut off by his lips meeting hers a bit more urgently than before, their tongues soon meeting, only to caress each other as her hands took purchase of his curls. And Raul’s never been more thankful for sneaking his hoodie in her closet.

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

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moon-spirit-yue · 4 years ago

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Alright time for what Charanya was up to during the Druun apocalypse! There will be a couple more posts about Charanya because there is just so much I have to say about her. Since she cuts her hair after the Druun hit I think it’s a good idea to show what young teen Charanya looked like. The art is @baydews and the link is here: https://href.li/?https://picrew.me/image_maker/415524.

• The months following the Druun apocalypse, Raya and Charanya were a wreck

• To make matters worse, people from other lands were trying to steal the resources Heart has

• Charanya and Raya were NOT about to let that slide. They agreed that the rest of the world hurt Heart enough

• Basically, the first few months of the apocalypse was Raya and Charanya stopping people from getting to Heart’s supplies with traps, scaring them with old legends, and so much more

• Think home alone but ratld edition

• They also went to other lands and spread rumors that bandits and Druun were overtaking Heart

• People stopped trying to take things from Heart after about five months

• When they were sure no one was going to try and take Heart’s resources, Raya set out on her quest to find Sisu

• Charanya had a different plan. She knew that while the majority of Heart’s citizens got turned to stone, there were many of their people that escaped on their own or another land’s boat

• This made her determined to help the remaining Heart citizens in any way she can. She planned to track them down and drop off extra jade, food and water on a regular basis until Raya could find Sisu and fix this mess

• Besides, someone needed watch after Heart and take care of the land so that it would stay a beautiful and prosperous place

• The girls dragged out an abandoned boat to a big lake in the middle of Heart, anchored it right in the center so that they could have a safe place to sleep even without the gem piece

• They used a small row boat to go to and from land and the boat

• Charanya realized that with her grandma gone there would be no one to take care of her hair. She figured it would be best to just let the bangs grow out. She also wanted to cut her hair so that the bangs would be as close to her real hair length as possible

• She got Raya to tie a ribbon around her hair at about shoulder length and sliced it off with her Ba’s sword. She wore a headband to keep her growing bangs out of her face

• Both girls were crushed when Raya first left to search for Sisu, but they knew they had two different missions that they had to complete

• With Raya taking the gem piece, Charanya is way less protected from the Druun than Raya. Thankfully, Heart has plenty of bodies of water

• Whenever Charanya saw the Druun she would sprint and fling herself in the nearest body of water

• This caused her habit of constantly wearing revealing clothes and bathing suits

• She figured it would be best not to ruin her clothes that covered up more. Plus she didn’t want to deal with the extra weight when she was swimming

• Since she only ever saw Raya in Heart anyways she wasn’t worried about people judging her clothing style

• I also think that Heart has very moderate temperatures so there’s never any snow and storms are a rare occasion so Charanya never had any problems with being too cold either

• She spent over a year tracking down every remaining Heart citizen, but she finally found them all shortly after her fourteenth birthday

• As she was tracking down former Heart citizens that had to move after the Druun, she was also taking care of the land itself. Maintaining crops, cleaning up places so that they didn’t look like a huge wreck, that sort of thing

• Obviously considering the fact that she’s only one person her efforts weren’t perfect but she did the best she could

• She also hid all the jade in various locations on the off chance that someone did come to Heart to steal more resources

• Since Charanya’s mom taught her about money at a young age, she knew how much the people would need

• Her plan is that once she tracked everyone down, every three months she would go to each land to drop off supplies to those citizens. She would go at the start of every new season

• Raya would also pop back in Heart every few months to get more supplies and jade so when she learned of Charanya’s plan Raya told her about the safest and fastest ways to get to each land

• The times that Raya came to restock on supplies was also when the two girls girl caught up on what the other was doing. They would also arrange to meet at random locations through out the lands to talk

• The girls thought it would be best not to exchange letters because they didn’t want anyone to find out that Heart was a relatively safe place

• The first time Charanya went out to deliver supplies she was jumpy and terrified of anyone that looked her way. Raya’s stories of her time out did NOT help either

• It was the first time she had left Heart in about a year. Not to mention was by herself this time

• She wrote a note to each family explaining the extra supplies and that she would continue doing this every three months for as long as the family needed

• She was beaming with pride seeing the happy and relived faces of her people when they saw the extra supplies. It made her all the more determined to see it through

• Her route was Tail, Fang, Spine, then Talon

• Though she didn’t have to go to Tail for very long. Within the first six months of her little Charanya delivery service pretty much everyone had been turned to stone in Tail since it’s. Ya know. A desert

• Only one Heart citizen was left there and Charanya helped him to move Fang

• Spine also didn’t last the entire apocalypse either. Though it was definitely longer than Tail, everyone turned to stone there by the time Charanya was sixteen

• The last two years of the apocalypse just going to Fang then. Talon

• She ran into some trouble in Fang when she was fifteen and hid in an abandoned tent. However, the tent was not, in fact, abandoned. There sat the most beautiful Fang warrior Charanya had ever seen

• But that story is coming later!

• Anyways, when she wasn’t taking care of Heart or dropping off supplies, Charanya would read to entertain herself

• With little to no human interaction, she had to do something to keep herself occupied

• She was already a book nerd before the Druun hit, it just became 10x worse after the fact

• When Charanya got wind of someone going around stealing gem pieces, she was ecstatic! She knew damn well it was Raya who was taking them which must have meant that finding Sisu worked!

• She raced back to Heart as soon as she heard and tried her best to not have a panic attack about whether Raya was okay

• The day the apocalypse ended, Charanya was taking a nap

• She has been swimming in the lake where her boat is because it was the only thing that would get her tired enough to sleep in the middle of the day. She couldn’t stand not knowing how Raya was doing

• She woke up to cheers, screams, and a lot of sobs

• At first she thought one of the other lands had invaded Heart, but then she saw swarms of people wearing the colors of Heart

• Raya had done it! The Druun were gone for good

• She swam out of her boat and ran as fast as she could to find her mom and grandma

• They were already calling her name and searching for her by the time she got to the place where they had become stone

• Charanya was afraid her family wouldn’t recognize her, but she was suffocated in their hug the second she made eye contact with them

• She sobbed in her mom and grandmas arms for what felt like hours

• Then she remembered Benja and went out to the bridge to see if he was okay

• She arrived when Benja and Raya were hugging and tackled them both in a hug

• It was only after the tearful reunions that she saw Sisu

• She kinda geeked out before bowing and putting the gem symbol above her head as a sign of respect

• But Sisu wasn’t having it and right for the hug

• “Awww you must be that friend of Raya I’ve heard about!” “Talking shit about me, my ray of sunshine?” “Always”

• Seeing all the lands come together warmed Charanya’s heart

• It would take time, but they would all be okay

Taglist: @faithfulwarrior-og, @isitbussinjanelle, @tigerlillyruiz, @ratld-sideblog

#raya and the last dragon #raya of heart #namaari #raya x namaari #rayaari #namaari of fang #namaari x raya #ratld #ratld namaari #ratld raya #raymaari #rayamaari #raya namaari #raya and namaari #disney raya #raya disney #raya oc #Charanya

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love-fireflysong · 4 years ago

Text

yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)

Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)

Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.

Chocolate Covered Confessions

Trope: First Date Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 8214 Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...) Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.

Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.

She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.

While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.

Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.

She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.

And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.

Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.

Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.

And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.

Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.

The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.

They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.

And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.

He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.

The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.

The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.

Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?

"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"

A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."

"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"

"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."

Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."

Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"

"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."

Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.

"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.

His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."

Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."

But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.

...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.

Oh .

"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"

Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.

"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.

"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"

Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."

"Well now I just want to hear it more."

"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."

Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"

She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.

That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."

This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"

She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"

Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."

"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"

"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"

"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"

"The art show?"

"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."

"Lunch?"

"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.

"The arcade?"

"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."

Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"

"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"

There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"

"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—

"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"

Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.

"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"

"Nuh uh, I asked you first."

Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.

"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."

Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."

She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.

They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.

Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.

The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.

"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.

The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.

But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.

"Chris? What are you doing?"

He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."

"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."

He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."

The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.

The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.

"Today was fun."

Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."

"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.

And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.

A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"

Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"

Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"

"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"

Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".

His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"

" Chris ."

That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.

But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .

Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.

She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.

"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."

Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"

"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.

His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."

"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."

Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.

"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"

The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."

"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."

She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."

"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."

She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.

Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.

Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.

And he had accepted .

Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.

He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.

And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #take two of trying post this stupid thing!#tumblr deleted the last one >:(#but this one actually copied over the italics so that saves me a shit ton of time if im being honest

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bookersebastien · 5 years ago

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blame @nicolodigenovas for inspiring me to write this (based on this amazing post)

It was a nice afternoon, clear and sunny, and absolutely perfect for lounging under a tree in the park with his latest read, an intense old italian romance that made him miss his home country. Instead, Nile was leading him across town with a jump in her step, to a tattoo shop of all places. He’d never shown any interest in the idea of them, he barely thought of them as art but the excitement on Nile’s face when she told him she got an apprenticeship with an amazing local tattoo artist he couldn’t say no to her - not after all the medieval literature readings he’d dragged her along to.

The shop itself was nice, large arching windows framing an intricately carved black door with the name painted on the front in a shimmering gold, and even Nicky had to admit he chuckled at it; “A Piece of Immortality,” it was rather poetic he thought.

Nile was practically bouncing through the door, eyes as wide as her smile as the bell chimed, dragging Nicky by the hand inside. Her excitement only seemed to rival his when he found himself pouring over old scriptures late at night in the library, maybe even surpassed it as she immediately dropped Nicky’s hand and ran over to the man at the counter; Nicky couldn’t understand what she said from here, but she was animatedly nodding along to what he was saying, his gaze a bit unsteady as he pulled some pages from behind the counter, much to her delight, as she began to pour over them.

The shop was very open, and Nicky found himself strangely welcomed by the warm colors that contrasted nicely with the cool metal accents adorning the walls and chairs, but more than that he could see Nile working here; he could easily picture her at her own station, completely engrossed in a new project, spending hour after hour learning new tricks and new styles, excitedly helping clients find the perfect thing to put on their bodies forever - though, Nicky could never understand why someone would do such a thing, Nile loved it and he wanted to support her as best he could.

A tall, dark-haired woman emerged from the back room and Nile wasted no time in introducing her to Nicky as Andy, one of the owners of the shop, as she was embraced in a crushing hug. Nicky glanced over at her arm, an amalgamation of black lines and words etched onto her skin; he could see a dragon looping around her arm, it’s body slinking up nearly its entire length, its face painted with a menacing scowl.

“Come on, you have to see the new stuff we’ve been working on and you’re going to love Yusuf’s!” Andy said, giving him a small nod before leading Nile to the back room. She shot him a giddy smile before following after Andy as fast as was professionally appropriate, leaving Nicky alone in the front room, save for the man behind the counter who looked like he’d sooner fall over drunk than actually be able to answer any questions as he paged through a book with glassy eyes, a not so subtly placed flask next to him, and the man sitting in a nearby chair, who nearly took Nicky’s breath away.

He was reclined in the chair, hands behind his head as his eyes trailed over the photos on the wall where there were countless tattoos pictured in so many styles and colors, Nicky almost wasn’t sure where to look but he felt his gaze travel back to the man before him. He was wearing a faded yellow shirt, thick curls tucked under a backwards baseball cap and the deepest brown eyes Nicky had ever seen. However, none of those things compared to the smile he gave Nicky when he turned around, a brilliant and encompassing smile that Nicky was sure put the sun itself to shame. Suddenly he was no longer missing the day he had planned.

Nicky somehow managed a smile back, awkwardly crossing his arms across his chest while he watched the stranger stare up at him, utterly lost in his eyes until he realized the man was actually speaking to him.

“Huh?” Was the only word he could manage, giving his head a small shake.

“You look a little bit lost,” he said, eyes crinkling as he managed another heart-stopping smile.

“Yes, well I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before.” Nicky tried to laugh, but his nerves twisted it into a rather unsettling chuckle. It didn’t help that the man was still smiling up at him, and if he was aware of the way Nicky’s eyes watched him adjust his hat, he didn’t indicate it.

“Ahh, well you certainly look cute when you’re confused.” He winked and Nicky’s breath caught in his throat, which he only just managed to play off as a cough. The man grinned, clearly happy with Nicky’s reaction.

Seconds passed, and then some more and Nicky still couldn’t manage to get words out, his mind circling over the word ‘cute’ like a vulture, except a vulture probably doesn’t have to deal with getting compliments from cute guys and probably sweats less than he was right now. A million things were running through his head, but none of them seemed like good responses, especially to a man as gorgeous as him.

And it was again that Nicky realized too late that the man had said something again. “I am so sorry! What was that?” he asked, kicking himself while he plastered on a smile he knew wouldn’t hide his growing blush.

The man chuckled. “I asked if you were here to get a tattoo,” he said, turning in his chair to face Nicky directly, clearly enjoying how flustered he was getting, wringing his hands together in front of him and eyes flicking back and forth towards him.

NIcky’s eyes widened, his response coming quickly from his mouth. “Oh, definitely not! I don’t really get the whole tattoo thing, I mean I guess you’re here to get one but honestly why even do this?” His hands moved in the air in front of him, voice tinged with a slight annoyance while he eyed the images on the wall, the ghost of a grimace crossing his face.

“And what do you mean by that?” The man’s tone was low, eyes narrowed, but Nicky didn’t seem to notice as he took a step closer to the wall, pointing lazily at the photos.

“It’s like this,” Nicky slipped into a neighboring chair, “most people regret their tattoos later in life, and it’s like the shop says, they’re immortal, they stay on your body forever. And besides that, why would people even choose to put this on their bodies? It’s not even art!”

The man eyed him with growing resentment, lips turned down; Nicky clearly didn’t realize who he was but his words stung nonetheless. His thoughts went to the tattoos that were sprawled across his arms, covered by the sleeves of his shirt, and the tattoos, his tattoos that were displayed on the wall, among those of Andy’s and Booker’s.

“Hm, that sure is something to say to a man in his own tattoo shop,” he spoke carefully, his back rigid and shoulders stiff.

Nicky paused, unsure of what he meant by that when Nile suddenly came running up to him, gripping his arm and giving it a friendly tug. “Yusuf, your new stuff is amazing! The color scheme is perfect, I mean the client is going to love it!”

Nicky gulped.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He could feel his palms start to sweat and no amount of wiping them against his pants was doing any good. Of course Nicky would meet a cute guy and manage to insult not only him, but his entire livelihood and there was no way he could pretend he didn’t mean every word he had said, not with the way he had said them.

Nile turned to him, oblivious and Nicky rubbed at the stubble on his cheek.

“I see you met Yusuf, isn’t his stuff amazing?” She gestured to the photos on the wall and even though there was no way Nicky could know which were his, his eyes leaned towards the ones with sweeping, careful and thin lines - he could almost picture Yusuf sketching them out on paper with a careful precision.

“Was Yusuf showing it to you?” she asked, moving to stand next to Nicky, her eyes lit up with a familiar passion.

“Not exactly,” Yusuf said flatly.

“Oh, what were you talking about then?”

At Nile’s question, Nicky could feel the shame curl in his stomach and he didn’t even know how to begin to explain to her exactly how badly he fucked up. But apparently he didn’t need to because Yusuf rose from his chair, casually rolling up his sleeves to display arms that were nearly completely covered in tattoos. And Nicky had been right, he could see the similarity between them and the ones of his clients in the photos, though some were no doubt work from his colleagues.

“Nicky here was just telling me how much he doesn’t like tattoos, what was it you said?” Yusuf was nearly glaring at him, arms crossed across his chest and Nicky knew there were no words to make up for what he did. “Oh yes, it was ‘it’s not even art.’”

Nile’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised and eyes flicking between the two before Yusuf spoke up again, “I think you should go.”

And Yusuf was right.

Nile placed a hand over Yusuf’s arm, whispering a quick apology to him before pulling Nicky from the shop, her steps hard and purposeful, body tense. Nicky just followed quietly, not even glancing back at Yusuf, whose eyes he could feel watching him as he left the shop just as Andy emerged from the back room with a question on her lips that he was too far to hear, but he didn’t need to hear it to know what it was about.

The afternoon air was cooler than earlier, a little biting against his skin but he barely had time to enjoy it because as soon as they passed the windows, Nile turned to him with an exasperated look. She glanced back towards the shop longingly, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking.

“Nicky why would you say that? I know you’re not like that, you can’t tell me that you really think that,” she said, sounding almost disappointed with hands dropped at her side.

“Nile, I’m so sorry!” He pressed his hands to his chest, eyes pleading as he watched her run a hand over her jacket to smooth the collar, a nervous tick of hers.

“Nicky, this is my job. I just got this apprenticeship!” She gestured to the shop next to them. “You can’t just say stuff like that, I thought you were working past some of that conservative stuff!”

And he had, mostly. There were just some things that were hard to shake off after growing up in a strict catholic household, but that was something he loved about his studies. He loved to be able to study the literature and learn about the religions from around the world, it allowed him to see so much more than he was exposed to when he was younger and he could grow into a more accepting person than he was raised to be.

“I will fix it, okay? I will fix it, Nile, I promise!” He grabbed her hand and she gave him a polite smile and a small nod, letting him leave while she headed back to the shop, hands tucked into her pockets.

And Nicky would figure something out, if not to fix it but at least to give a worthy apology - both to Yusuf and Nile. She didn’t deserve this, and she was right, he was trying to get past some of his conservative ideals and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t even completely sure he truly believed in what he said. It had all come out without a second thought and he could still see the pain etched onto Nile’s face and how utterly upset Yusuf was at his words.

He would figure something out, he had to.

#the old guard #the old guard fic #tog fic #tog tattoo au #userlyde #mywriting #its been a hot minute since ive written anything but lyde you inspired me #also ive read through this like 3 times and i guarantee theres still mistakes so oh well

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alpacaparkaseok · 5 years ago

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7 Secrets

OK! This is my first time EVER posting an imagine on Tumblr! So please love me and don’t hate it lol. I'm also not sure how many parts there will be to this, but you can expect probably at least three. Let me know what you like and don’t! Any ideas?

Summary: For the past three years, Beth has struggled and fought against the notion that she has a soulmate. It was only when she met six other girls who were in the same predicament that she finally decided that this was her life. The only real problem? Her soulmate has no idea that she even exists. Much less that soulmates are even a thing. Will she ever get to meet her soulmate, the ever popular and beloved Kim Namjoon of BTS? Does she even want to anymore?

GENRE: Soulmate!au BTS!

WARNINGS: none

Even now, as my feet lead me through the airport here in Seoul, I can’t quite believe that this is actually my life. Even now, three years later, the feeling of disbelief mingled with the thrill and fear of it all lingers.

To anyone here, I simply look like another tourist. Headphones in, not a care in the world except for keeping my backpack on my shoulders and taking one step at a time. I pass a group of girls loitering by the stairs, completely decked out in BTS merch. I smile at them, my action going unnoticed by my mask and hat low on my head. Am I a tourist or celebrity?

Neither. And yet, in some twisted way, both.

To my eternal horror and delight, six of my closest (and weirdest) friends await me at the baggage claim, welcome signs held up high.

All of them are from either here in South Korea or Japan, yet despite our differences we just click.

It’s something that I’m still not used to.

Their loud squeals can be heard bouncing off the walls of the airport the second I come into view, and I thank the heavens above for the mask and hat I’m wearing which shields my bright smile from the rest of the world. They would never let me hear the end of it if they knew just how excited I was to be back.

“You’re back!”

“Finally, you’ve kept us waiting long enough.”

“Wow, look at you. You look like a whole celebrity.”

“Since when did our little B grow up so much?”

I roll my eyes lovingly at them, unable to hold back as we all rush toward each other in a fit of excitement. A year was way too long.

“You’ve made it look like I’m coming back from military service or something.” I joke with my closest friends, laughing as Minsuh pokes my ribs in defense.

“It feels like it, too. You look like you’re coming out of a battle or something.”

I feign offense. “It’s called jet-lag, thank you very much. Wow, some people never change, do they?” I accept a hug from Aera, and only when I set my chin on her shoulder do I notice the two cameras trained on us.

Ah yes. That is one thing that I haven’t missed. Aera silently attaches a mic to my sweatshirt, clipping it on with a conspiratorial wink. She knows just how much I despise our ongoing documentary.

The cameramen are kind enough, shadowing us constantly in an attempt to compile enough content to someday show our soulmates. However I can’t help but feel like it’s a bit hopeless at times. I highly doubt our boys will ever watch the material, they seem busy enough. And we’re not that entertaining.

But who knows? The most famous band in the world tends to surprise me.

“Is it the balloons? It’s all the balloons, isn't’ it.” Kyung-Soon fiddles with the balloons in her hands, the mass floating above her in an attempt to block out any light from above. The sight pulls a giggle out of me, tired as I may be. I waddle over to her, one of the girls easing the backpack off of my shoulders and grunting at the weight.

I wrap her up in a hug, knowing just how much she tends to stress and over think. “The balloons look great. You know me, I just get embarrassed easily. But I love them.”

“I wonder how you would react if it was Namjoon holding the balloons instead of Soon-ah.” My head swivels to my best friend, glaring strongly. Himari only returns the look, her smirk growing. “You get embarrassed so easily, I’m just wondering what that would be like.”

The mention of my soulmate has my cheeks burning, and I offer up a silent prayer of gratitude for the mask I still have on.

The other girls take up the conversation, wondering aloud how I would react if it was my soulmate picking me up from the airport instead of his band member’s soulmates. Himari’s Japanese accent cuts clear through the rabble, making me feel right at home even as I secretly plan to embarrass her later on. Usually a well placed comment about j-hope’s latest concept photos will leave her reeling and red-faced.

The cameras edge closer, and I leap up grabbing my luggage before I can be embarrassed even more.

“Time to go!” I shout, ignoring the snickers from behind me. “Himari, since you’re so keen on helping me today would you mind bringing my backpack?”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Ha, just like you Beth. Way to avoid the conversation.” A less noticeable Japanese accent greets me, and I turn to see Ichika already by my side. I raise my eyebrows at the girl only a year my senior.

“Your Korean sounds great, Ichika!” She smiles at me, her delicate features reminding me of a flower. Ichika looked like a piece of art, which I guess made sense considering that she had a soulmate who would probably recognize that same fact immediately upon meeting her. At least, I’ve heard that Taehyung has an eye for art. Or maybe he just has an artsy personality? I can’t remember. Probably both.

“Thanks,” she replies, giving me a firm high five. “I missed you!” I breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s always been so refreshing how honest Ichika is.

“Missed ya too,” I mumble out, suddenly disoriented in the humid air as we exit the airport. By now we’ve attracted our fair share of strange looks and even a few stragglers, who follow us solely because of our small camera crew.

Once outside, Aera gently herds me in the direction of a couple of black cars. I nod to the managers the BigHit sent us as they open the car door for us and help to put our things away. I can see one eyeing the mess of balloons that Kyung-Soon still clings to, calculating how on earth to fit seven girls and seventy balloons into two small cars. (Ok, maybe not seventy, but it feels like it)

I turn to help Kyung-Soon, but find Minsuh already there. The sweet girl, only six months older than me, is always quick to help. Typically her and Aera are inseparable, but I’m glad to see that Minsuh has slowly been pushing herself to mingle with the others. It’s another thing that makes sense, seeing that Minsuh’s boy is Jungkook and Aera’s is Jimin. As far as I know, those two are pretty close as well.

Minsuh smiles shyly at me, sidling over to give me a quick hug before going back to her work. The cameraman makes sure to catch the sweet action, never one to miss a candid moment.

Was that cute enough for you? I silently ask Bang Si Hyuk. There’s no doubt that these will be reviewed and only the kindest, funniest, and cutest moments will make the cut.

Pity for Namjoon, but that means I will probably only be featured in a little bit of the documentary. Oh well, if he’s curious he can come find me himself. I’m done waiting. Or caring.

“What are you pouting about?”

Himari’s voice drags me out of my stupor, and I shrug my shoulders in response. Her happy demeanor doesn’t falter as she looks into my eyes like she can read them. There’s an underlying seriousness that few get to know, but I’ve been lucky enough to see it several times.

“Just tired,” I bump her hip with mine before we get the ok to all pile into the car. She doesn’t press the matter, but I can count on her slipping it into the conversation again once we’re alone. Once the pressing matter of the cameras watching our every mood is lessened and I feel more comfortable.

Sliding in, I collide with another body that has already taken the far seat. Both Seohyun and I burst into laughter at the sudden collision, her eyes turning into crescent moons.

“Well hello to you too,” she manages to say between giggles. Himari slides in next to me, shaking her head at the both of us. A couple of cameras in the car automatically focus on us, but I pay them no mind.

“I like your sweatshirt,” I say, gesturing to the homage to her soulmate. Sure enough, Yoongi’s new mixtape “D2” cover is printed on her shirt. Funnily enough, out of all of us, Seohyun is one of the most showy when it comes to her soulmate. Constantly buying merch, listening to his music, and gushing about him.

I know she’ll make Yoongi very happy. If she ever gets to meet him.

If any of us ever get to meet them. Or if they’re ever informed of our existence. Not for the first time today, I curse Bang Si Hyuk again in my mind.

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honeytea8 · 5 years ago

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“Mister Fix-it” - Josuke/gn!Reader

A/N: Something I posted a while back on AO3 and now I’m dumping it here, I edited it to be gender neutral, pls let me know if I missed anything, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When your brand new air conditioning system doesn’t live up to the hype, you’re left with no other choice but to call Josuke Higashikata, the neighborhood handy-man and Morioh’s local heartthrob. (Post-canon; Josuke is 19/Reader is 23ish)

There is not a single ‘moderate’ thing about the summers in Morioh Cho and you come to this shocking discovery during your very first year back in this crazy, noisy town.

One early morning, a wave of heat sweeps in like a thief in the night, creeping over your body and making your nightshirt cling to you like second skin. A relentless force of nature that saps any residual moisture in the air. Everything is left high and dry—you lament over your dying succulent.

You can’t count how many cups of ice water you’ve guzzled or how many cold showers you’ve taken just to end up sweaty again, but something’s got to give. The day after Kai Harada announces the possibility of record-breaking temperatures in the following weeks, you delve into your emergency savings for a solution only money can buy.

Two days later, a portly electrician comes and installs a new air conditioning system for your home. He’s yammering on about how it’s supposed to be the best on the market. State of the art and all that jazz. You don’t really care for the details; you just want to be comfortable in your own house lest you end up a melted pile of goo. Who the hell would take care of your vegetable garden then?

You inspect the newly installed system with subdued interest. Truthfully, it doesn’t look like anything but an eyesore that’s completely thrown off the ambiance of the entire living room. It’s practically hanging out of your window. However, the only thing keeping you from complaining about its appearance is the dusty fan overhead that’s been circulating the same muggy, warm air for over an hour now. You prefer functionality over appearance, screw feng shui, you needed this AC.

“So, you’re positive it'll cool down the entire house?” you question one final time.

As if to prove his point, the electrician flicks a switch and the machine attached to the wall comes to life. The droning hum is annoying and would take some getting used to but it’s blowing the coldest air you’ve felt in a while. Both you and the electrician remain standing in front of it for a few seconds, basking in wonder.

Like magic, the heat-induced stress and tension leave your body all at once.

“Well then,” you say with a smile, “It’ll do.”

One week. Seven days. A hundred-and-sixty-eight hours of pure, absolute, uninterrupted bliss. You are in heaven! Your plants are flourishing as usual, and you aren’t sweating profusely like a pig for slaughter. Life is oh so good.

Until you wake up on the eighth day at four am with the worst case of cotton-mouth you’ve ever experienced.

You tumble out of bed, delirious from the sudden onslaught of heat that has transformed your bedroom into a sauna. Loose cotton sheets tangle with your ankles and you hit the ground, chin scuffing against the floor in your haste. The adrenaline pumping through your veins keeps you from wincing, or even feeling the pain. All you can hear is the sound of your own two feet pounding on the polished wooden staircase.

“Please, no, no, no, no—“

You sweep into the living room only to find the new air system is completely silent and no amount of switch-flicking or button-punching is going to change that. Mouth screwing into a scowl, you glare at the overpriced piece of junk with unbridled disdain.

This has become personal.

A hard smack from the palm of your hand to the surface of the machine echoes through the room—still nothing, not even a stirring.

Big fat tears well up in your eyes. Whatever hormones fueling your rage are now flooding you with sadness. Your hand and chin are throbbing from the pain. The money spent on this crap was gone and now you’d have to shell out another hefty amount just to get it fixed. You want to pull out your hair in frustration.

Glancing around the room, everything is so still and calm. It’s still quite early in the morning, a few hours before dawn and you are tired as hell. The heat is making you lethargic, so after drying your tears and chewing on some ice cubes, you curl up on your sofa and go back to a fitful sleep.

Later in the day, you’re hanging clothes out on the line when your neighbor comes out to greet you.

She’s a grandma who lives alone except for when her grand kids come to visit, and despite her penchant for being a nosy gossip, you kind of like her. She waves and meanders over to the edge of her fence.

“This is some heat, I tell you.”

“Right! I didn’t realize Morioh could even get this hot,” you pick up another sheet and toss it over the wire. “Would you believe that I spent two paychecks on an air conditioner that doesn’t even work.”

Your neighbor gives you a look of pity. “Oh dear, such a shame.” You watch as she adjusts the chairs and tables around her patio.

“You know, I have a teacher-friend with a son who has a knack for fixing things. Had him take a look at my plumbing a few weeks ago and he had it working right as rain. I can ask him to come by and take a look at it for you.”

You shuffle the empty bamboo basket in your arms. “I...guess that could work. Have him drop by sometime.”

What’s the worst that could happen?

Two days later, you’re tending to your many plants—because you’d be damned if another died because of this heat—when a Greek god falls from the sky and onto your doorstep.

“Hi! I’m Josuke Higashikata, your neighbor said you had a problem with your air conditioner.”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement: the young man standing on your porch is a damn stunner. His pouty lips, broad shoulders, and slim waist are more than enough to fuel a wet dream or two. Your brain short-circuits for a solid minute. Is it hot in here or what?

(And for once, you aren’t talking about the actual weather.)

He shifts nervously from one foot to another when you don’t immediately respond, but all you can do is stare. You’re thirsty for more than just a drink of water right now.

“Um,” he looks down at the sticky note in his hand and mumbles to himself. “This is the address, right?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. You internally berate yourself for looking like a gaping idiot in front of this knockout.

“YES! Ahem—yeah, y-you’re at the right place.” you move aside and allow him in. And good Lord, he’s tall. You wouldn't mind climbing that beanstalk.

Josuke is dressed in a striped yellow tee and pair of boardshorts that fit just right, a real sight for sore eyes.

You try not to swoon and realize rather belatedly that your own attire isn’t hiding much from view. Since the air conditioner stopped working, you reverted back to wearing tank tops and shorts around the house. Josuke, for what it's worth, isn't ogling you but he’s obviously noticed if his reddened cheeks are anything to go by.

“Right over here.” You say breezily.

The sway in your hips is subtle enough that it doesn’t look intentional. You guide him over to where the AC is sitting in the wall like a heap of scrap metal. Josuke didn’t bring any tools with him, so you’re skeptical about how he plans on fixing it. Honestly, even if he can't, you plan on making the most out of this.

You enter the kitchen adjacent to the living room, allowing him to take a look at the thing without you hovering.

As you’re straightening out the dining table, you ask, “So, how old are you, Josuke? You look a little young to be a handy-man.”

There’s a pause in his movements. “I just turned nineteen!”

Your fantasy dies a swift death somewhere deep within the dredges of your subconscious. Of course he’s young, as if you hadn’t noticed. Dialing back on the flirtation, you hum out an ‘oh cool’. The last thing you want to be is a cradle robber!

You aren’t that much older than him...but it still feels a bit wrong? You’ve never been with a younger guy before.

A startling hum resounds throughout the house and you feel a gust of cool air coming from overhead. Josuke has managed to fix it! You rush back into the room just in time to catch him stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“All done!”

“That—That was really quick? What was wrong with it?”

Josuke only shrugged. “Not sure, but it seems to be working now.”

You stare uncomprehendingly.

“So...was there anything else you’d like me to fix?”

Blinking you look around for something but come up short. “No, not unless you can bring plants back to life.”

Now it’s Josuke’s turn to blink as he takes a look around with wide eyes. He hadn’t noticed all the plants in the various corners of your home, he had been too distracted by—

“Which ones?” He says before he can stop himself.

You point to the succulent perched on the coffee table, it’s dried up and brittle in some parts, but it’s not completely dead. He kneels down to its height, touches some of its chubby petals. Then he silently calls on Crazy Diamond and with a single touch, it’s restored back to its normal health.

A few years post-Yoshikage Kira, Josuke has gotten a lot better with his powers, utilizing his stand with ease. He turns and gives you a smile and has no idea he’s giving you heart palpitations just by looking like that.

“Woah! Josuke, what the hell was that?”

“Ahh, it’s hard to explain. Just know it’s something I’ve been able to do since I was a kid.”

“Wow, th-that’s some trick,” you glance at your plant in shock. It’s literally back to normal. You recall all the time spent nurturing it, along with your other plants. All the sweat doled out during back-breaking gardening. How could you ever repay him for making sure your hard work didn’t go down the drain?

Before you know it, you have his face in your hands and you don’t know what the hell you're doing but you're holding him and staring tearfully.

“Thank you times a million. Seriously.”

Josuke just gulps and nods. “Uh huh, not a problem.”

You really try to ignore the way he’s staring at your lips or the heavy blush on his cheeks because, again, you are not robbing the cradle. With more self-control than you knew you had, you let go of his face and step back.

“S-So would you like some tea, or lemonade or—“

“Lemonade,” he says as he stands to his full height. “Lemonade is fine.”

You nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. He is so cute. You scamper off into the kitchen and pull out a full pitcher of homemade lemonade. Meanwhile, Josuke is left to take a look around your house.

There are plants everywhere, most are leafy, green, and healthy. The ones that aren’t, get a boost from his stand power.

Josuke wants to compare your home to a jungle or the Amazon, but that’s not quite an accurate comparison. Even though there’s clearly a lot going on, it’s not cluttered or disorganized at all. It’s just...really freaking amazing! There’s even a flourishing terrarium built in the walls near the staircase.

With your obvious love for nature, Josuke thinks you’d get along great with Mr. Jotaro, but for some reason he doesn’t feel too inclined to introduce you two.

When you finally return, you catch Josuke eyeing your little turtle tank with a weird look.

“That’s Kame, I just got him a month ago.”

Josuke laughs, “Kame, huh? That’s pretty clever.”

“I thought so too,” you hand him the cold drink and as he takes it, his fingers graze yours. “He doesn’t do much, so if you’re expecting him to do a trick, you’ll be waiting a while.”

“Oh nah, it wasn’t that. I’m just…kind of afraid of the little guy.”

Biting back the urge to say ‘awww’, you usher him over to the engawa overlooking your vegetable garden. “A fear of turtles is understandable. But would you believe that I used to be afraid of fish?”

“Fish? No, I can’t say I would. But I also wouldn’t judge.”

You smile at that because of course, he wouldn’t judge you. “Yup, had a bad experience when I was five. My father used to live in Morioh, near the coast. He was a fisherman,” you pause, momentarily distracted by the bob of his adam’s apple as he takes his first sip.

“H-He umm, took me fishing once... and it was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on a real fish. Needless to say, I screamed my head off.”

“No! Seriously?” Josuke chuckles and it’s so contagious and addicting. Soon you're laughing too.

“I swear, I cannot make this up!”

“So, what happened?”

“Okay, so I’m screaming like a mad person and running away. You know what my dad does? That asshole chases me with the thing still dangling from his fishing rod.” You shake your head at the memory. “I literally got sick and threw up that night, and boy did my mom chew him out for it.”

“That sounds so hilarious and yet so traumatic.” He laughs again. “That’s terrible!”

“Right! I could never look at a fish after that or even be around them. It took years before I finally got over it.” You sigh and shake your head again.

Silence ebbs between you for a moment before Josuke clears his throat.

“So, this might seem a bit forward, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

The question doesn’t register in your head all at once, leaving you to stumble over your words until you can finally think coherently. “Josuke I...I’m a bit older than you. Shouldn’t you go for someone more closer to your age?”

“No, and I’ve never believed age should stop two consenting adults from getting to know each other better.”

“Josuke, I’m old enough to be your big sibling though.”

He quirks his brow at that like you’ve just said something weird. “Well, Mr. Joestar, was like ancient when he met my mom so that really doesn’t bother me.”

For some reason, that comment breaks the tension. You barely hold back a grin. “This Mr. Joestar guy is your father then?”

“Biologically speaking, yeah. He’s pretty old now and I never really knew him, but my mom still loves him with everything she has.”

Okay. Now you are really having heart palpitations.

Josuke is exhibiting a surprising amount of maturity right now, making you eat your words about him being too young for you. Why did he have to be so convincing on top of being cute?

“Give me a chance,” he says. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

After mulling over it for a moment, you finally acquiesce.

“Alright, Josuke. One date, and we’ll see from there.” and just to catch him off guard, you peck his cheek. “Okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course, it’ll be perfect!”

Taking the empty lemonade glass from him, you both re-enter your home with smiles on your faces. Josuke stays a little longer and you both chat for a while then make plans for your date. You get to learn about how much of a hopeless romantic he is and how he’s a firm believer in love. He makes it very clear that he doesn’t want a fling and that he’s looking for long-term. All of these things surprise you, as they aren’t what you’d expect from someone as gorgeous as him.

By the time the sun is setting, you know it’s time for you two to part ways. Josuke stands at your foyer with pursed lips and a blush on his cheeks. “Can I...kiss you?”

To answer his question, you lean up and press a soft kiss on his mouth. Josuke’s strong arms snake around your hips, drawing you closer into his sturdy frame. His plush lips are gentle and pliant against your own.

When Josuke finally pulls back he is presented with the sight of your closed eyes and kiss-reddened lips and it’s the most enthralling two seconds ever. He thinks you're so freaking beautiful.

“Alright handy-man,” you say as you give him one last peck on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, sure thing!”

Ironically enough, you have this nightmare of a heatwave to thank for your date with Morioh Cho’s favorite dreamboat.

#josuke higashikata #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #jojo #jjba #my writing

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cellophanejpeg · 5 years ago

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dancing with our hands tied || pt. i

Pairing: Marcus Pike x female!reader

Summary: Marcus is your boss and you really enjoy working with him. But a work trip to the west coast makes him visit the past and you realize not only you like him, but you’re deeply in love with him. The only problem is that you both work together and it would never work. Or so you think.

a/n: so basically i had to split this bad boy in two cause i was writing a whole damn the mentalist episode. all you need to know is: i know nothing about how the FBI works or how crimes are solved, so i made it all up. deeply sorry if i offend any fbi agents that could be here?? if you don’t watch the mentalist, basically patrick jane is an asshole that can read people’s body language and points them out in public. that’s really all you need to know, it’s a dumb show tbh. also, this contains detective work and law enforcement, which, during times like this, i would understand if you don’t want to read this. don’t forget to donate to the black lives matter movement and sign petitions against police brutality. i’ve reblogged a variety of posts with link for donations and petitions, they're under the tag #blm resources.

Warnings: mutual pining, some angst, a pinch of fake dating

Word count: 6.7k (and there’s more coming)

part ii | MASTERLIST

The badge around your neck swings as you run and you have to hold it in place. The streets of L.A. are full of curious eyes, gathered behind the yellow tape; you check your phone one more time and sigh. No messages, no missing calls. It’s not like him, you know something’s up.

When you show your ID to the police officer that’s in charge of controlling the people, he lets you duck under the tape and approach the other agents already in the scene. You exhale, panting from your run as you introduce yourself.

“I’m with the FBI,” You tell them after stating your name. They all eye you like you’re from another dimension.

“What’s the FBI’s interest in all this?” Asks a red haired agent whose name you don’t know.

You take a look at the corpse on the ground. “‘Cause this is our guy.”

Crouching next to the lifeless body, you take a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of your jacket and put them on; with gentle fingers you tilt the dead’s head sideways so you can look for a specific mark behind his ear.

"Yep," You tilt the man's head for everyone to see a burning scar on the shape of an eye. "The Crystal Eyes gang.” You take the man’s hand to show the pinky finger ring the gang members wear, but it’s missing. Furrowing your brows you notice the tan line on his finger, where the ring should be.

The only man who actually smiles at your statement is the blond, blue-eyed guy. The rest of the agents sigh and roll her eyes, and you frown already irritated. First, your partner doesn’t show to a crime scene of a case he’s the head of, then these CBI agents are clearly not your fans.

The woman who seemed to be the boss rolls her eyes at the man and looks at your direction. Her blue eyes darting to you with anger and you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or the man with the arrogant smile. When she speaks, her voice is demanding, like she’s also your boss. “Are you leading this case on your own? Where is your partner?”

It takes everything in you not to tell her to fuck off. “He’s–” You swallow. “Coming.” You stand, looking away as you take off the gloves and discard them. Taking another look at your phone, you sigh in disappointment when you see nothing. Fucking hell, he’s not coming. What an idiot. “So, this guy’s name is–”

“You’re lying.” A voice interrupted you. It’s the man with the arrogant smile. “He’s not coming, is he?” You watch the way he smiles at you. “You keep checking your phone and the way you looked away when you talked tells us you’re either waiting for someone’s call or you’re checking to see if something happened to him.”

Fuck. How does he know all that? Were you that transparent or are you just a bad liar?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” You ask him, shoving your hands in the pockets of your FBI jacket.

“Jane.” He smiles, showing you an ID card that has a picture of him above the name ‘Patrick Jane’. “Consultant.”

Nodding slowly, you frown at him. “Jane.” You tilt your head as you speak. “He’s coming, don’t worry. If he doesn’t arrive, he must have a great, great excuse for his absence. Either way it doesn’t concern you. What you do need to know is that him and I are after this gang for about a year now, and this is the first lead we have in three months. We’re more than capable of handling this.”

“Clearly not, if your partner is not even here,” The boss says. You exhale sharply. You were going to kill your partner.

“Listen, Agent…”

“Lisbon.”

“Agent Lisbon,” You repeat her name. “I know it’s hard to see a case being taken from your team, and I’m sorry about this, but– You gotta let me do my job.”

Lisbon sighs, crossing her arms “What do they do? The gang. Do they sell drugs? They kill people? Maybe there’s something we can help you with.”

“Well, I’m with the art squad so…” You pause. “They steal art.”

You watch as all the agents look at their boss and an awkward silence tenses the air. Lisbon widen her eyes and then looks away from you, clearing her throat. It’s like their own unspoken thing.

“Art?” Patrick says, amused. “From where?”

The way he says it makes it look like a joke and you’re not sure if he’s mocking you or not.

“Art galleries, museums, you pick.” You shrug, crossing your arms in a defensive manner. “They see a place with an expensive art piece? They steal. It could even be a rich man’s living room. When it comes to Crystal Eyes, they don’t give a fuck.”

Silence hangs in the air and you could hear a pin drop, even out here in the open. Finally, red haired woman, Van Pelt clears her throat, alleviating a bit of the tension you still don’t know why it’s there.

“And, uh–” She swallows. “These robberies involve killing other people or…?”

“No, they usually use a stealth strategy.” You almost sigh, relieved for the broken silence. “Although, one time, they killed an old man at his own mansion when the robbery didn’t go as planned. I don’t believe this an accident, though.”

“Interesting,” Jane mumbled. “Hey, do you happen to know an Agent–”

“We’re done here!” Lisbon interrupts him and starts walking away. You watch her give him a look only a wife would give to her husband. Quickly glancing at their hands, you notice they use the same ring on the same finger.

Of course they’re married.

Lisbon says your name, getting your attention again and nods at you. “He’s all yours. Have fun.”

And with that, her and her team walk away from the scene. Sighing, you check your phone one last time. Still, no messages, no missing calls, not even a text. Nothing. Gritting your teeth, you shake your head.

“Godammint, Pike.”

…

You and your team had been in California literally for half a day before the call for the dead guy came in. It’s the first lead you all have on this gang in three months, so as soon as one of the informants let you know one of the leader were in L.A., you all flew to the west coast and based yourselves in one of the FBI quarters.

As soon as you walk in the big room, you see Marcus’ sitting at his desk, typing something on a computer that looks like it hasn’t been used since the 90’s.

“Pike!” You exclaim, getting his attention. His face changes from focused, to confused, to a tired look in a matter of seconds. Strolling towards him, you watch as he leans back on his chair. “Three years I’ve been working with you and you’ve never pulled a stunt like this!” You slam your hand on his desk, making everyone around you jump, except from him. “If you wanted me to look like an idiot in front of the CBI guys, well, you did it!”

He raises his hands in defense and says your name, the low baritone of his voice is enough to send shivers down your spine, but not right now. Not today, when you’re angry at him like this.

“Oh, please, do tell,” You grunt, shifting the weight of your body to one leg as you cross your arms. “I’m eager to know why you didn’t show in such an important crime scene, leaving me alone to deal with them.”

Marcus gaped at you for a second and then sighed softly. “I got stuck in the traffic.”

You roll your eyes. “Bullshit. I was miles away and managed to get there before forensics.”

He stared at you for a moment and then sighed. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Well, let this be the first and last time.” You warned him, pointing a finger to him.

“May I remind you I’m your boss, Agent?” He gives you a teasing smile, leaning back on the chair.

You sigh shaking your head. “Yeah, you seem to forget that sometimes.”

His eyes left yours and you felt a pang of sorrow for him, not knowing exactly why. You and Marcus have always had a love-hate relationship. Even though he's technically your boss, you've always treated him like equal. Yelling at him in front of colleagues wasn't a new thing, and to be honest, he’s already used to it. Shaking your head, you stroll over to the furthest desk and sit down, claiming the spot as yours for the time you stay in L.A.

Marcus Pike is an excellent agent. He’s dedicated and hardworking and a damn good boss. The man was born to lead, the passion he has for his job impresses you. Ever since you’ve joined the squad, you’ve been assigned with him as your partner. Back then, everyone told you how lucky you were to be working beside him. Three years later, you still feel lucky to work to have him as your partner. Just not today.

Needless to say, you have a mild crush on him. When you first met him, your first thought was that he was incredibly handsome. And then you were gradually being acquainted with his work style, with the way he worked hard, so your feelings for him just grew stronger over the time. You’ve become closer him over the course of the years and you know him just as well as he knows you. Which is why you just snapped at him. He’d never allow such thing if any other member of the squad talked to him like you did.

Little do you know that Marcus is harvesting a crush on you too. It’s been a while since the feelings had started to make its way to his heart. He’s not sure when it started, but he knows it’s there. He feels it every time you smile and laugh at one of his jokes. He feels it every time you come up with a lead, every time you arrest a criminal. He feels it when he sees you wearing the FBI jacket, looking so pretty with your hair in a low bun or in a ponytail. Hell, he feels it when you’re mad at him.

Marcus glances at you, from his claimed desk and sees you looking at the computer screen, forehead creased in concentration as you filled in the report from the crime scene. Sighing, he looks back at his own computer, feeling his heart sink. Three years you’ve been working together and not once you showed up with a boyfriend. Claiming your job was more important to you at the moment, you just stated that you have no time for relationships. You want to focus on your career, make a name for yourself.

Which is why you and him would never work.

The clock ticked slowly that morning as you all put the leads together to find out who killed the man of the gang. His name was Liam Dixon and he had a big name in the gang, his picture pinned on the cork board from your office back in New York for months. And now, he just drops dead. During a briefing, someone suggested it might have been an accident, a mugging that went wrong, but you know it’s more than that. Saying that the only thing that has been missing from the body was the ring, you argued that it could be either personal or a gang conflict that went wrong. Marcus agreed with you. The orientation he gave everyone is look into police calls for stolen art recently in L.A. That way, you can all have a hint where the gang is acting.

When lunch time arrives, you sigh as you check your phone and stand from your desk. Organizing your desk, you pick up the post-it notes and empty coffee cups and throw them in the trash, when you see a figure approaching you.

“Let me make it up to you,” Pike says, leaning his hand on your desk. “I know a good place where we can have lunch.”

…

Going on lunch breaks with him isn’t unfamiliar to you, but you’re still upset at him, so you order a salad and eat in silence as he eats his own meal too.

“How was the crime scene?” He tries to make conversation.

“You’d know if you were there.” The words come out too fast from your lips and you quickly shoot him an apologetic look.

“You’re still upset?”

Waving a hand at him, you shook your head. “I’m just being petty.” You swallow your food. “The scene was packed, lot of curious eyes. I got there and the CBI guys were in the scene.”

He nods, considering his next words. “Is Patrick Jane still a part of the CBI team?”

“The consultant?” Your voice gives a hint of surprise. “Yeah, he was there. Kinda weird guy if you ask me.”

Pike laughs softly, shaking his head. “Don’t let your guard down near him. He’ll read you like an open book.”

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of your water, eyeing him.

“He’s… Very observant,” He explains. “He’s good at reading people and he has no filter. If something is bothering you, he will let everyone know.”

“Huh.” You smile. “What a weirdo.”

Silence hangs in the air as you both eat. A comfortable silence, a good one.

“Did you meet Lisbon?” He asks, suddenly.

Frowning at him, you nod, biting a piece of broccoli. “Yeah, do you know her?”

Marcus sighs, drinking the rest of his water. Something in his demeanor tells you he’s… Sad, maybe? His eyelids drop to his plate and his shoulders slump as he hangs his head low. You’ve been coexisting with him long enough to tell he’s not okay. Then, a thought occurs to you.

“She’s the ex, isn’t she?” You ask, quietly. He looks up at her and nods, his expression changing, covering the trace of sadness from his face.

Marcus had told you about an ex who left him for another man during one of your stakeouts together. It broke your heart to know that a man like him, so sweet and hardworking, was left twice by women who didn’t appreciate him. You told him that they it was their loss and, after he laughed at your corny attempt at comforting him, you said that if they didn’t leave him, you’ve had never met him. That night, he looked at you like you were the light of his life. Every time you remember, you feel butterflies on your stomach and smile to yourself.

It was nearly two years ago.

And it’s not like Marcus is not over Lisbon, after all it’s been five years since the breakup. But he’s still not ready to face her. Not again. Not after the last time he saw her with Jane and felt his heart bleed. He just doesn’t want to get hurt again.

“How is–” He clears his throat. “How is she?”

“Fat.” You shake your head, grimacing at him. “Her hair was all over the place, pimples on her skin, bad breath, lettuce on her teeth–”

Marcus lets out a laugh, shaking his head. It’s the kind of laugh that makes him throw his head back and wrinkle the corner of his eyes, and, god, his smile is beautiful. He laughs genuinely and you know that, because you've heard it before. You hear it when you are in stakeouts together and you'd crack a joke he'd really liked. You hear it in birthday parties of the members of the squad, when he’s tipsy and drunk happy. You hear it when you make your snarky remarks at the perks you arrest. You could watch him laugh for hours and you would never get tired of the view, of the sound of it. It makes your stomach churn with pleasure to know that you’re the one who provoked this laugh on him. As he wipes the corners of his eyes, you smile at him, laughing softly.

“Nice try, but–” He laughs. “Thanks.”

You just shrug, shaking your head. “Is that why you didn’t go to the crime scene?”

Pike’s smile fades away and you regret the question when you see the expression he gives you. Something tells you to take it back, to apologize and leave it like that, but if he didn’t want to face her… Then, maybe, he still has feelings for her. And the thought, somehow, hurts you.

“Yeah, I, uh–” He swallows. “I don’t think I’m ready to face her again.”

“Oh.” Is all you say.

After finishing your lunch, you both pay the bill and leave the restaurant. The thick, awkward silence grows heavy between the two of you as you both walk together back to the quarters. You want to speak, but you don’t know how to comfort him, how to make him feel better. And then a different voice calls his name.

“Marcus?”

You both stop walking and turn around. Lisbon and Jane, hands laced together, are staring at the both of you. Marcus’s heart almost stop at the sight, his breath get caught on his throat as he widens his eyes.

“Teresa,” He replies, a surprised tone in his voice, eyeing Jane and nodding at him. “Patrick.”

“I see you kept the, uh–” Jane points at his own face to indicate a beard. “The look.”

Marcus nods at him, but doesn’t respond. You nod shortly at Patrick and glance at Lisbon.

“How– How are you?” She asks, looking right into his eyes. A shot of jealousy hits your heart, and you swallow hard trying to push the feeling away.

“Good,” Marcus answer, smiling. “You?”

“Good.” She smiles at him and you have to look away. Pursing your lips, you discreetly take a deep breath and cross your arms.

This woman had Marcus wrapped around her finger and really discarded him when she decided she didn’t want him. She played with his feelings until she got tired and left, not knowing she had a great man who was in love with her and was willing to do anything for her. She doesn’t know how lucky she was for having him. The anger sets in your chest faster than expected as they make small talk, but you don’t listen to them. You can’t, or you’ll explode with anger. It’s Jane’s voice that pulls you out of you thoughts.

“You’re jealous.” His voice is directed to you and both of them stop talking to look at you.

“What?” You frown in confusion.

“Your lips.” He points to his own lips as he talks. “They’re pursed together. You’re crossing your arms to shield yourself, and you have this… Sour expression on your face.”

Widening your eyes, you look at Pike but he’s just as surprised as you are.

“You have feelings for Agent Pike and you’re jealous that he’s giving attention to his ex girlfriend.” Jane smiled triumphant. You gape, feeling your heart speed, and the heat on your cheeks as you look at him surprised. Lisbon shoots a look at Jane as if she’s saying stop reading people without their permission. Your eyes are focused on the ground, knowing that if you look at Pike, it'll be game over.

"Of course she has feelings for me." Pike laughs softly after a short awkward pause. You shoot a look at him, a frown in your brow, confused as hell. "She's my girlfriend."

A silent pause hangs between all of them. Agent Lisbon frowns deeply, widening her eyes to the both of you. Jane's smile fades away. Pike's smile grows wider. And you… You just look at him in shock, thinking about how quickly he thought of the lie. It's unnecessary to lie, there's no point in telling the CBI that you were together, except–

He wanted to impress Lisbon. Of course.

Trying to conceal your emotions from Jane, cause he'd know if you're lying, you smile at the couple and laugh softly. Marcus approaches you and lays his palm flat on your lower back. A touch that makes you tense and melt at the same time. The warmth of his hand gives you some comfort and, despite everything going on, it's a comfort you needed for a really long time.

"We're trying to keep it a secret, for now." The words roll off easily from your lips and when you see, you're already wrapping an arm around his torso, smiling as brightly as you can. "Because we're coworkers, and we don't know how the squad would react." And then, with a playful tone, you look at Pike. "But someone can't keep his mouth shut."

Marcus laughs, shaking his head. A fake laugh.

"I just can't contain myself." He leans towards you to press his lips on the crown of your head. “I’m too happy with you.”

It shouldn’t make your heart jump, but it does. You look up at him and give him a real smile this time, your eyes softening as a light breath leaves your lips. He looks at you and notices it, slightly tilting his head like a confused puppy, reading your expression too well. Your smile fades for a moment as you look away, but the fake smile returns when you look at Patrick.

“Oh,” He says, looking a little too disappointed.

“We have to go,” You tell them, smiling. “We got a gang to catch.”

As soon as you both are out of their sight, you let go of each other. The walk back to the quarters is silent and awkward and you have to put an effort to not blush the entire way. Pike warned you, the man is good at reading people. And he really has no filter at all. You just hope that your partner thinks Jane is wrong, you can’t afford him knowing about your feelings for him.

When you reach the doors to the quarters, he calls your name, stopping by the steps. Looking back at him, you see him, with his hands on his hips and his eyes on the floor. You swallow, feeling your heart speed up.

“About what Jane said–”

“He was wrong.” You’re quick to interrupt. Marcus’ eyes dart up to you and you have to stop yourself from sighing.

“He’s never wrong.” His voice is soft and there’s a hint of something in his eyes. It’s something sparkly, like– Like hope. You have to look away, pushing the feeling away as you shove your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

“Well, he was,” You tell him, and when he says your first name, “We’re coworkers. Don’t worry, I don’t have feelings for you.”

With that, you turn your back to him and enters the quarters, the lie still burning your throat. Heading straight to the bathroom, you feel your eyes watering. By the time you lock the door, they run down your cheeks and you sob. You didn’t know why it hurt so much to lie to him, but it does.

You’re really into him, aren’t you?

…

Another member of the gang was murdered. Frederick Hale, second to leader of the Crystal Eye, was found dead by gunshot wounds almost in the same street Liam Dixon was found. When you and Pike got the crime scene to identify the body, forensics were almost done with everything.

“That doesn’t make sense,” You say, gripping you tea mug on the table. During the briefing, your brain is working like a machine, trying to figure out why the member of the gang were dropping like flies.

“Could be a coincidence.” Russell suggested, shrugging.

“It could be, but two members in the same day?” You argue.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Pike tells everyone. “Ballistics came through. Liam and Frederick were killed by the same gun.”

It doesn’t surprise you. You knew it was too good to be a coincidence.

“So, someone is definitely taking them out.” You nod.

“Maybe they both fucked up, and the man was mad about it.” Davis shrugs.

“No, it’s not like Yosef,” Pike says, sitting down and crossing his arms. The shirt tightens around his arms and you look away quickly, not letting the horny thoughts distract you from the investigation. “He doesn’t eliminate his members like that.”

“What if someone’s infiltrated in the gang?” You bite your thumbnail, like you always do, a habit Marcus noticed you did in the first week of working with you. You do it when you’re concentrated, thinking of something important.

“Like an informant?” He asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“No, no. Like– Someone who joined it with the specific purpose of killing them?”

“Like an avenger?” Davis scoffs and you shoot an angry look at him.

“Yeah,” Pike says, nodding. “I thought the same thing.”

Finally, finally you look at him. He gives you an assuring look as he's saying I agree with you and I have your back at the same time. That’s a thing you like about him. The way you both communicate without words. You open your mouth to agree, but his phone rings before you make a word out. He picks it up, dismissing you all with a wave of his hand and you sigh, standing up and walking to your desk.

You only get to turn the computer screen before Marcus makes a quick beeline for you and asks if he could talk to you for a moment. Outside. Feeling your stomach churning, you nod, knowing something is wrong. Following him to the back patio of the building, you take a couple of deep breaths, preparing yourself for whatever is coming. When you both are in a safe distance from the other members of the squad, he turns to you and sighs.

“That was Jane on the phone.” He explains, quickly.

A frown is on your forehead. “Jane? Patrick Jane?”

“Yeah.” He breathes, wetting his lips with his tongue and exhaling softly. “He invited us to a double date.”

A laugh escapes your lips and you smile, thinking it’s a joke. “A double date with who?”

His face is serious when he answers. “You and me, him and Teresa.”

The smile falls from your face and you tilt your head, knowing there’s more to it. “And you said no, right?”

Marcus’ gaze is on the floor as he avoids the question by staying in silence.

“Pike.” You insist. “Tell me you said no.” No answer. “Please, tell you said we’re going to be busy or that we had plans already.

You wait for his answer until he finally looks at you again. “I said yes.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you close your eyes and sigh deeply. Marcus bites his bottom lip, eagerly waiting for an answer, leg bouncing in anxiety.

“Why?” You ask, eyes still closed.

“I-I– I just–”

“Is this about Teresa?” You interrupt him before he could think of what to say. “Is this you trying to prove a point to her?”

“No!” He answers too quickly and you narrow your eyes at him. “Y-you know I can’t lie to Jane, he’ll know if I do!”

“Not even on the phone?!” You argue.

“Trust me, he’d know.”

Looking away, you sigh, crossing your arms. Marcus knows he’s putting you in a difficult position and the truth is that he doesn’t actually know why he said yes to the date. Maybe he just wishes he could go out with you and, knowing you would refuse his invitation if it was a normal situation, he accepted to continue to lie to Teresa and Patrick just to go out with you.

“Fine.” You finally answer. “When?”

“Tonight, eight o’clock.”

Sighing, once more, you nod. “Okay. But his ends tonight. No more lies. We’re here to work.”

He raises his hands in defense. “I promise, boss.”

“Fuck.” You mumble, walking away from him and ignoring the teasing nickname,

This is bullshit.

…

Why this had to happen?

You look at yourself in the mirror for the hundredth time. The hotel room is a mess, clothes all scattered around the floor and bed. You didn’t bring any date clothes. Not even a casual dress. Not even a formal dress. You weren’t counting on going on a fucking date with a fake boyfriend.

The only formal set of clothes you bring is a plaid gray skirt, with length just above the knees, and a blazer in the same color and pattern. You put it in your suitcase just in case you’d have to attend an audience or be in the presence of a judge. Pairing it with a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of your usual office heels – black stiletto heels with a pointed toe – you decided this is the outfit.

Many times you imagined what your first date with Marcus would be. Your imagination liked to go far, from movie dates to fancy dinners, after all, it doesn’t hurt to think, right? But you never, ever imagined it would be like this. Faking a relationship to impress his ex. It kinda hurts, you realize, being a pawn to his game. But, deep down, you were dying for an excuse to go out with him. Even if it might be unprofessional. You just wish it would be you and him only.

A soft knock on your door announces he’s ready. You check your makeup and adjust your hair quickly, before walking to the door. You open it to a see a very handsome Marcus Pike standing at your door. He’s wearing a black suit and tie, like he usually does at work, but something is different. He’s neater, his hair is combed in place and his beard is trimmed and… Is he wearing cologne? The smell invades your nostrils and intoxicates you quickly, in a good way.

“Should I have shaved?” He asks, when you don’t speak. You blink, returning to the real world.

“No.” You shake your head, smiling. “You look– You look great.”

A shy smile curves the corners of his lips. “You too.”

You wave a hand at him, grabbing your clutch bag and closing the door behind you.

“I didn’t bring anything fancy, so…” You try to explain yourself.

“No, no, you look–” He hesitates. “You look beautiful.”

Feeling your cheeks warm, you look away from him, clearing your throat. Marcus is still amazed by you, looking so different tonight. Your hair is down and he fights the urge to run his fingers through it. In the three years he’s known you, he tries to think when he ever saw you with your hair down and he can’t. This might be the first time.

“Shall we?” You pull him out of his thoughts. He nods, and offers his arm for you to hook yours in it. You feel nervous, but for some reason, there’s a good feeling settled in your stomach.

Soft classical music reaches your ears as you enter the fancy restaurant, Marcus following right behind you, his hand hovering your lower back. As soon as you enter, a receptionist smiles and asks for your names.

“Yeah, we’re under the name Jane,” Marcus says, nodding once at her. She checks a list and tells you both to follow her.

She guides you both to an empty table and, for a moment, you think maybe they’re late, until you realize it’s a table for two. Your stomach drops and you swallow, frowning confused at the lady. Marcus laughs softly and shakes his head.

“No, there must be a mistake,” He says.

The receptionist frowns and checks the list again. “It says here you’ve reserved a table for two, Mister Jane.”

Marcus gapes at her as she walks away leaving you two behind. A waiter is politely waiting for you both to sit down at the table to hand you the menu, but you just look at each other, mouths hanged open.

“Maybe–” You say, swallowing hard. “Maybe we’re at the wrong restaurant.”

“No, he did this.” He whispers to you as you look at him, confused. “He set us up.”

A scoff leaves his throat as you look at him, pale and shaking. Does that mean you’re on an actual date… With Marcus Pike?

“What do we do now?” You ask, holding your clutch bag tightly with your hands.

“Well, we have two options. We can leave, and that’s okay if you want to.” He looks you in the eyes, leaning slightly towards you in honesty. “Or we can have dinner.”

The look you give him is one he can decipher. He can’t tell if you’re offended by the proposition or just thinking about it. Deep down he’s hoping you say yes, hoping you’d have dinner with him, just you and him. Then, a shy smile curves the corners of your lips and you shrug.

“Okay,” You tell him. “Since I’ve put on makeup and got all dressed up.”

He smiles at you and walks to the table to pull the chair for you to sit on. As the waiter hands you the menu and Marcus sits down in front of you, you try to calm down your nerves and try not to think you’re in an actual date with Agent Pike aka your boss. You order white wine and him Whiskey. After the waiter leaves, a moment of silence hangs between the both of you until you laugh nervously.

“I gotta admit,” You say, laughing. “Going on a date with my boss is kinda… Weird.”

Marcus stares at you for a few seconds and you wonder if saying the d-word was a bad move. But then he smiles, looking down at the menu and shaking his head.

“Just… Don’t think of me as Agent Pike. Tonight I’m just Marcus.”

“Marcus.” You repeat his name and nod. “Okay, Marcus… So what do you do for fun?”

Marcus breath almost hitches at the way you say his name and he imagines a thousand scenarios where you say his name like that. He clears his throat and swallows, closing the menu and looking at you.

“You know, the usual,” He answers. “Drink beer, watch TV.”

You smile, raising your eyebrows. “That’s all?” You tease. “You’re going to tell me Agent Marcus Pike doesn’t have a hobby?”

“C’mon.” He laughs. “You know which are my hobbies. You’ve known me for years.”

“Hmm, yes.” You smile. “But you said you’re Marcus tonight and I’m just trying to get to know you.”

Marcus looked at you with warmth in his eyes. A certain look that makes your stomach churn in pleasure, your heart speed and your cheeks warm. It’s something different. Perhaps the first time you look at his eyes like this in three years of knowing him.

“Alright,” He finally says. “My hobbies include watching TV, cooking and martial arts.”

A frown grows between your brows as you look at him surprised. “Cooking? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, I decided to give it a try last month.” He shrugs and waits for the waiter to serve their drink before continuing talking. “I keep burning water, I don’t know why I even try.”

A laugh escapes your lips. A genuine laugh. “That bad, huh?” You take a sip of the wine as you watch him nod. “You just practice. I can teach you some recipes if you want. My mom tells me I’m an excellent cook.”

“Yeah, maybe you should.” He gives you that look again and you clear your throat, playing with the stem of your glass of wine. Marcus’ fingers slowly approach yours, barely grazing at your skin before pulling away at the sound of the waiter’s voice asking if you were ready to order.

Marcus orders the special stake and you the mushroom cream soup. The food is good, tasty, but you really wished you could have something simpler. You didn’t mind, as long as you’re with him. The night goes by with laughter, talk about your personal lives and stolen looks from each other. By dessert, you both were buzzed off by the alcohol and kept laughing at everything.

“Wait, you threw up on her?” You ask, a wide smile on your face as Marcus tells you a story about his very first date, where he got too drunk and everything went wrong.

“On her shoes!” He replies, burying his face on his hands.

“Oh my god!” You put a hand on your mouth to muffle a laugh.

“I was seventeen, okay?” He argues, laughing too.

Wiping a tear from the corner of your eyes, you sigh, feeling your face warm. You both fall into a comfortable silence as Marcus reaches for your hands on the table. Your fingers touch his and you feel the warmth of his body sending shivers down your spine. You realize you want to hold his hand forever, the feeling of his rough palm on yours is comforting to you.

“I’m having a great time.” He confesses, a closed-lipped smile on his face. An involuntary smile curves your lips too, letting the feeling take over you.

“Me too.” Your voice is small, shy. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” He agrees and fall in silence again.

Suddenly, an urge to tell him how you feel hits you. It may be the alcohol, but you can’t shake off the thoughts of confessing your feelings to him from your mind. You shouldn’t do it, not even your drunk self knows it. But the pain of yearning for a man, a good man, and not being reciprocated hits you and you don’t like the feeling.

“It’s getting late.” You whisper instead and he nods, asking for the check. He insists on paying, despite your protests.

The cab ride back to the hotel is silent and he’s not touching you anymore, but you wished he was. You wished he reached out for your hand, laced them together and pressed his lips on your skin. You wished this night never ended, you wished you would never let him go. The buzz of the alcohol is already faded when you both arrive at your hotel room, pulling the keycard from your wallet. Marcus walks with you and you look at him, smiling.

“So that was fun,” You say, biting your bottom lip.

“It was.” He smiles back. “We should do it again some time.”

Your heart skips a beat at small offer and all you can do is nod and smile. God, you really want to kiss him. You really want to kiss that stupid face, wipe off that stupid grin and pull him to your room. Licking your lips, your eyes set on his and he seems to notice because he licks his own lips, making your breath hitch.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” He says, looking right into your eyes.

And you should say no. You should draw the line, tell him you work together and that would be inappropriate. But instead you say,

“Okay.”

And then his lips gently press into yours as you close your eyes. The air escapes from your lungs as you reach for his neck, pulling him closer, his own hands cup your cheeks, kissing you tenderly. It feels amazing. The sensations his lips give you are beyond your imagination. As you open your mouth, allowing him you slip his tongue in, you sigh, deepening the kiss and tugging at his hair.

Then, you sober up. You pull away too quickly and wide your eyes, the blood draining from your face and your throat closing at the realization you just kissed your fucking boss.

“Shit,” You mumble, backing up. Marcus calls your name softly.

“It’s okay–”

“No.” You interrupt him. “You’re my boss, we work together.” You exhale sharply. “We can’t.”

“Sweetheart–”

“Don’t.” You raise a finger to him. “Please– Just don’t.”

Fumbling with the keycard you enter your room without giving him a chance to speak. The place it’s still a mess from your private fashion show, but you don’t care. Tears spill from your eyes as you remove your shoes and your clothes, not bothering to putting on pajamas or organizing the room before burying yourself under the covers.

Well, now, you’re really fucked.

tags: @madadlorian @xo-dragonette-xo @rosetophighlander @adikaofmandalore @pedropascalito @fioccodineveautunnale @burningsoulbloodyheart

let me know if you want to be tagged in part ii!

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #myfic #the mentalist #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic

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