#i am trying to keep it pg but he is making it difficult!!!!

[heavyhitterheaux]

Drive Safe (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: Buckle up, and I hope you enjoy 😘💕

Synopsis: Jack wants that old thing back, but definitely doesn't go about it in the right way, eventually leaving you upset with him when all is said and done

Pairing: Ex-husband!Jack Harlow x Ex-wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Do not engage if you are underage

So that no one gets confused, this happens in an alternate universe where First Lady actually did file for divorce from Jack. The timeline is a little different as well.

It was around 1 AM when your phone rang and you immediately rolled your eyes because you knew who it was.

The special ringtone that you still hadn't changed because you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. At least not yet anyway.

Your ex-husband.

You had never thought in a million years that you would be divorced from your high school sweetheart, but here you were.

The last straw that broke the camel's back was him not fully being supportive of you as your own career was taking off. Time and time again, he would disappoint you and disrespect you and you came to the conclusion that this wasn't the same person that you married and that person you had fallen in love with when you were fifteen was long gone. T here were rumors circulating about him cheating on you with your close friend Taylor Rooks, but he denied it until he was blue in the face that he would never step out on you and hasn’s stepped out on you for the entire time that you were in a relationship.

The two of you had been fully separated for a year and a half, but the divorce got finalized a few months ago.

When you told him that you wanted a divorce, at first he welcomed the idea and you remember how badly it hurt to see his reaction, acting as if he didn’t want to try to do anything to fix it. But then a week later, he called you on facetime bawling his eyes out with snot running down his face and begging you not to.

At first PG was trying to stay out of it and remain neutral, but they then began to take sides and expressed that you were a difficult person to work with and be around which you were extremely hurt by since you would do anything for them and in short, ended up cutting them off. However, you honestly thought it was because of their loyalty to Jack since they had known him longer.

You were still the first lady of Private Garden and Jack had told you that it would never change no matter what had happened between the two of you.

However, when it came to Urban he was trying to do everything he possibly could for the two of you to get back together, but you wouldn't budge. He was basically stuck in the middle and he wanted out. Jack would blame you and you would blame Jack all while Urban was simply trying to keep the peace. 

The one person that you shouldn't have been surprised by was Neelam, but you still were. You found out that she was rejoicing because of the divorce since she felt that you had been holding Jack back from the beginning and knew after the two of you made up that she still didn't like you despite her actions showing something different.

She actually tried to call you to plead her case, but in your mind the damage had already been done.

As much as Clay would joke around about you divorcing Jack, it hit him like a ton of bricks when the news actually broke and was genuinely upset. The first thing he did was call you to make sure that you were okay because he knew how Jack had been treating you for those last few months and he didn’t like it one bit.

But, you weren't going back on your word no matter what. Then when you found out you were pregnant with not only one baby, but three, Jack pleaded with you once again to take him back, but you still refused. Deep down, you knew that you still loved him, but you didn't think that you were in love with him anymore. The two of you definitely shouldn't have been sleeping together while going through the divorce so you were definitely both surprised when it happened. 

Or were you just lying to yourself? 

Now you were about three months along and needed all the sleep that you could get, but obviously that didn't matter to him. It had taken you forever to get comfortable and he was about to get an earful from you.

“Jackman, it is one in the morning. What do you want?” You asked while finally rolling over and answering your phone.

“I know. I'm sorry to call you this late, but I didn't check on you earlier like I promised. Are you okay? How are the babies?”

“You mean to tell me this couldn't wait? Sweet gesture I admit but we're fine and trying to sleep.”

“No, I needed to check on my girl. Can you come to the studio real quick?”

“Are you…? Jackman, are you deaf? And I'm not your girl anymore. We have literally been divorced for four months now.”

“Please baby.” Jack pleaded once again and all you did was throw your head back in frustration.

“You have lost the right to call me that.”

“I… just for a little bit? I'm working on something and want you to hear it.”

“How do you even know I'm in Louisville?”

“Because you still share your location with me or did you forget?”

Well fuck.

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I'm staying for an hour and you better not be on no bullshit and waste my time.”

“I promise it'll be worthwhile.” 

Once you got to the studio and made your way inside, you were surprised to see him in there by himself. When he heard your footsteps, he immediately turned around to greet you.

He caught you off guard by bringing you into a hug and kissing your forehead. He looked so good, but you knew better. You promised yourself that you wouldn't get roped back in.

Besides, you were already pregnant. 

“It's good to see you.”

“Jackman, you saw me three days ago at my doctor's appointment. Can you just play me the song so that I can go home and sleep?”

“Damn, okay. I forgot how impatient your ass was sometimes.”

“Hmm, my impatient ass put up with your bullshit for an entire year, so I would rethink that statement if I were you.” You said while rolling your eyes and all he did was sigh.

“I didn't ask you to come here to fight with you.” He said pulling the chair out so that you could sit down.

“Let's hear it then. What's it called?”

“Lovin’ On Me.” He answered as he sat down next to you.

You sat there in silence as you listened to it and you can admit that you definitely liked it. Once it was finished, he simply turned to you to ask you what you thought about it.

“Sooo, what do you think?”

“I like it.”

“Any suggestions or anything I could do better?”

“No, I like it just the way it is. It'll definitely chart. Now was that all? Can I leave?” You asked as you tried to get up, but he immediately stopped you by pulling you into his lap.

“Hold on, what are you in such a rush for? I just want to talk. You got someone else waiting in my spot in your bed?”

“I…. Talk about what?”

“How I've been wanting for us to try this again. You know I still love you.” He replied as he kissed your cheek and all you did was sigh. 

“The ink isn't even dry on the damn divorce papers.”

“I… Look, I promise that things will be different. You know you're my favorite girl to be around.”

“Oh, so you have other ones? Like Taylor for example?”

“Y/N, please. I've been fucking miserable without you and for the last damn time I did NOT cheat on you especially with one of your best friends.”

“And who's fault is that? And I don’t know if I’ll ever believe you.”

“I know I have no one to blame but myself and I take full responsibility for it.”

“Hmm, that's a first.”

“Can we stop with the sarcasm for a minute?”

You turned to look at him and simply nodded your head. 

“I want to prove it to you if you give me the chance. You don't have to give me an answer right now, but just think about it. Can you at least do that for me, pretty girl?”

You knew when he called you ‘pretty girl’ that it was over and that you could feel yourself about to fold.

All you did was nod your head as Jack leaned in to bring his lips to yours to capture you into a kiss and you couldn’t help but to kiss him back. He then deepened it and slipped his hand into your leggings and slowly began to rub small circles on the outside of your thong that you were wearing.

“Look how wet you are for me. No one can get you wet like I do. You want me to take care of that for you?”

All you did was whimper in response and he simply smirked before letting out a small laugh.

“I take that as a yes. Spread your legs for me baby and let me work.”

You immediately obliged as he now slowly started to massage your clit before slipping two of his fingers inside of you.

“Shiiit.”

“Shh, we have to be quiet. Be a good girl for me.” Jack said as he then added another finger and increased his pace of them pumping in and out of you while placing kisses along your neck.

It wasn't long before you hit your peak and released all over his fingers and he immediately put them in his mouth. He let you ride out your high before he began tugging on your leggings.

“Take these off. I want to see that pretty pussy that I missed so much.” 

Once you did, he carried you over to the couch that was in the corner of the studio and laid you down while slowly climbing on top of you.

“Let me taste you first.” Was all he had to say before he parted your legs.

You simply peeled off your shirt while throwing it across the room and Jack took notice that you didn't have on a bra as your pierced nipples were on full display.

“Damn, a sight that I never get tired of.” He quietly said before hovering over you and placing one of them in his mouth and sucking lightly making you moan.

“I can't wait to see how full they'll get in a few months.” He whispered as he then began to suck harder as he rolled the other one through his fingers.

Hearing your moans and whimpers underneath him was bringing Jack satisfaction in knowing that he could still have this effect on you. Even though it's only been a few months, this is the longest amount of time that the two of you had spent with one another besides the time that the triplets were conceived.

He quickly switched to the other one as you were trying to reach your hand down to massage your clit, but he quickly pushed your hand away.

“I'll suck your clit in a minute, be patient. I want to take all of this in.”

If you were only wet before, you knew that there was now a waterfall between your legs. Jack continued with his task of sucking on your left nipple when out of nowhere another orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks making him smirk.

“You know good and damn well I'm the only one who has this effect on you and can fuck you this good. Now let me eat my favorite meal.” Was all you heard before you felt him take one long lick across your folds making you moan.

“And you better stay still.”

As Jack continued pleasuring you, you felt him slip two fingers into you before sucking on your clit as promised and making you gasp.

“Ooohh, fuckkkk.” You exclaimed as you grabbed a handful of Jack’s hair to pull him closer. He wasn't letting up and you knew good and damn well that he was nowhere near done with you.

The familiar feeling was building in your stomach and you knew that you were close.

“Baby, I…”

“Oh, now I'm your baby because I'm making you feel good?” Jack asked as he smirked before focusing back on you.

You didn't even have time to answer him before you ended up squirting all over his face making you gasp, but he still continued to suck on your clit as you were trying to catch your breath.

“Yes, that's my good girl. You gonna to do it again for me? You gonna squirt all over my face?” Jack asked as his mouth went back on you and all you could do was nod to answer him. He now had a hold on both of your legs to pull you closer to him if that was possible.

Not even three minutes had passed before you once again squirted all over his face and Jack had to reach up to cover your mouth with his hand in order for you to keep quiet.

He was getting bricked up by the moment with hearing your whimpers and moans for him and knew that he needed relief and needed it fast. He undid his pants and got his boxer briefs down in record time and was simply stroking himself as he peered down at you.

You reached up in order to take him in your mouth but he simply shook his head no and gently pushed you back down.

“You ready, princess?” He asked you and you simply nodded.

“I asked you a question so you need to open up your mouth and tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“You want daddy to fuck you? You sure?” Jack asked while smirking and you were close to rolling your eyes, but if you would have done so, he would have dragged this out even longer.

“Yes. You already interrupted my sleep so it's the least that you can do.”

“Hmm, fair enough.” Jack answered you as he laughed.

Jack slowly slid into you bottoming out as he let out a loud moan and series of curses.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you feel around me.”

It took you a second to adjust and he gave you a few moments before he started to move. But he didn’t do so without your permission. 

“Move.”

“Don't have to tell me twice.” Was all he said before you felt nice, slow, and deep strokes but you knew that this wasn't going to last long. Sure enough Jack then placed your legs on his shoulders and began pounding into you.

“That's my good girl. Look at you taking all this dick. You missed me didn't you? Even if you say no, your body is saying otherwise.”

“Mmm, baby.” Was all you could breathe out before you wrapped your arms around Jack’s neck and now your noses were touching. He simply caught you in a kiss as he continued to pound into you.

“Open your pretty mouth.” He whispered as he broke the kiss and you happily obliged as he then spit in your mouth and quickly swallowed.

“Good girl.” Jack breathed out before placing his right hand on your neck and squeezing while keeping his same pace. 

“Who fucks you as good as me, princess? Huh?”

“No one.” You quickly breathed out as Jack was now massaging your clit.

“And don’t you ever fucking forget it. This pussy is mine and mine only. You understand?” Jack asked and when you didn't answer, he squeezed your neck tighter, but not tight enough for it to hurt so that you would answer him.

“I thought I asked you a question. I need to hear you say that it's mine.”

“It's yours, just let me cum damn it!”

Your orgasm then hit you and you felt as if you were seeing stars as you laid underneath Jack whimpering. You felt him then begin to move again before he asked you to open your mouth.

“You want me to cum in that pretty mouth? Open wide for me baby. Fuck I'm close. Play with your clit for me.”

You did as you were told before you sat up and before you could take him in your mouth, cum started releasing and you quickly licked it up. Once you were done, you took him in your mouth and got the rest of it like he asked.

Once he pulled himself from your mouth, he reached down to kiss you before laying down on top of you.

“Damn, I missed this and I missed you.” Jack quietly said as you were drawing small circles on his back.

“I missed you too.”

The two of you were quiet before he spoke up again. 

“Just take your time and think about what I said. No rush. I’m not going anywhere and I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

“Okay.”

After simply laying with Jack for about another hour or so, he helped you get dressed before walking you out to your car and placing another kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and your lips last.

“I love you.” He breathed out, but when you started to speak, he cut you off.

“If you're not ready to say it yet, it's fine. But my feelings towards you haven't changed. I know it might take a while if we actually do this again.”

“Just give me some time.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” Jack replied as he helped you step up into your G Wagon that he had bought you for Valentine’s Day two years ago.

“How about a goodnight kiss before you leave?” He asked while wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh but you soon caved.

“Drive safe and let me know when you get home.”

—-

The two of you had been spending more and more time together as he was working on his new album and a lot of that time was either spent in the studio or with him fucking your brains out. Over the course of the next few months, you decided to let Jack move back in with you and kept it quiet because the last thing you would ever ask was for someone’s opinion about it. You were two adults who could do what you both wanted.

It was early in the day and Jack had mentioned about him wanting to go to the studio early so that he could come back and spend time with you seeing as your due date was getting closer.

He was currently begging you for more kisses even though you had given him several already.

“Jackman, I have been giving you kisses for close to thirty minutes. You should have been left.” You said as he was now kissing down your neck and attempting to lift up your shirt.

“Just a few more.”

“I’ll be here when you come back! I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

“Last time you told me that, you ended up divorcing me.”

“Don’t push it. Now do you want kisses or not?” You replied as you eyed him.

“Yes, please.”

You reached up to place several kisses on his lips and he eagerly kissed you back. When the two of you broke apart, he simply placed another one on the tip of your nose before smiling at you.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

“And call me if you need or want anything. Like food, something to drink, my dick. You know, the usual.”

“BYE JACKMAN.”

“Okay, I’m going! I’m going!”

You saw to it that he got in his car before you decided to go upstairs and into the nursery to start folding up clothes for the triplets. You couldn’t exactly bend down in order to get them in the last drawer in the dresser and would have to wait for Jack, but you were still on a mission to do what you could in the meantime so that there was less to do later. 

As you were folding one of the last onesies, you suddenly got a facetime call from Taylor and you immediately answered.

The two of you had only spoken through text when the news broke since there had been rumors surrounding her and Jack. In your heart of hearts, you don’t think that she would betray you in that matter, but you weren’t sure considering how PG ended up treating you when they found out that you had filed for divorce. 

“Hey.” You heard her say as you moved all of the neatly folded clothes to the left of you.

“Hi.”

“So, how are you? How have you been? What’s new? I miss you and I’m worried about you.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking my ex-husband that?” You immediately shot at her and all she did was sigh.

“Y/N, please. I would never hurt you like that. Both of you mean a lot to me and I would never want to be the cause of two of my closest friends’ marriage ending. I would never lie to you, I can promise you that nothing happened. He did see me that night because he was crying his eyes out and bawling over you because at that point, he knew it was inevitable and that you were going to file for divorce.”

“Then why didn’t he simply tell me that?” You asked her, but all you got was a shrug in response.

“I guess because he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to change your mind.”

“Hmm.”

“If I may ask, how are the two of you? I heard that some reconciliation may be happening?”

“Um, it’s… I guess you can call it that. Just taking it slow and steady at the moment despite me knowing him since I was fourteen. It just got to the point where I didn’t recognize the person that I had married and I wanted out.”

“That’s fair, but I have another question.”

“Yes?”

“When you do have the babies seeing as the two of you are officially divorced, are you going to file for full custody?”

“What? Why?”

“Well, Jack is always busy and always on the go. That just seems to make more sense to me. This is not me trying to get you to one up Jack. I’m thinking of the kids.”

“Taylor, do you not realize how messy that could get? I mean thank goodness the divorce wasn’t because he basically gave me everything but to keep his kids from him?”

“You aren’t keeping him from them, it was just a suggestion so that they could grow up in a stable environment. That’s all. I meant no harm by it. Even if you two are on good terms now, you never know what could happen.”

What you didn’t know was that Jack had forgotten his phone charger and came back to the house to get it from your shared bedroom. He didn’t expect to hear a snippet of your conversation with Taylor and her basically suggesting that you file for full custody but he also didn’t hear you disagree with her. This obviously made him feel some type of way and immediately felt like these last few months had been a waste of time if this was what you were going to do all along. Bottom line was that he couldn't trust you and he was determined to hurt you first before you hurt him.

Something had been bothering Jack for the last few days and despite him saying that he was okay and that it was nothing to worry about, you couldn’t help but to feel uneasy. He had been spending less and less time with you and you made it a point to bring it up tonight before the two of you went to bed. He was spending longer hours at the studio than before which you understood since his album was getting closer to dropping, but something didn’t feel right.

That was where he was currently when you got a notification on your phone saying that he had posted a new reel for a song entitled “Drive Safe.” You admit that you were excited seeing as that was what he would always tell you before the two of you parted ways, but it took a turn for the worst as you started listening to it and scrolling through the comments.

liked by urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, shloob_, privategarden, and 1,283,743 others

jackharlow: drive safe prod by 2forwoyne

jackharlowsource: the dynamic duo is back! colebennett: neelam ain't a fan of her neelamthadhani: Mhmmm jackandy/naremyparents: all I know is this better not be about y/ninsta urbandjack25: um if I was this girl, I would be throwing up right about now quiiso: absolute fireeee allthingsy/n: hmm well we known neelam never liked y/n so there's that y/ninsta: oh lol 🙃 urbandjack25: ahhhh shit here we go jackharlow: y/ninsta got something to say sweetheart? y/ninsta: jackharlow don't bother coming home is all I'm going to say jackharlowsource: WAIT ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER? SOMEONE FILL ME IN. I'M LOST. allthingsy/n: I knew it was about her. jack is always fucking something up. I hope she gets with Dua, Clay, Giveon, Drake, or Bryson.

When you heard the door open downstairs, you flew down the steps so that you could be face to face with him. 

“JACKMAN, are you fucking serious? You plead and beg practically on your fucking knees for me to take you back and this is how you act? You write a song about me and make me feel like shit? That’s really what you think of me? The person who was once your wife?”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WAS GOING TO FILE FOR FULL CUSTODY. BUT NOT IF I FUCKING DO IT FIRST.”

“What?! Where did you even get that from?”

“I heard you talking with Taylor! I forgot my phone charger and came back to get it and I overheard you two.”

All you could do was stare at him as he was now red in the face and fuming.

“Oh, don’t have much to say now do we?” He asked and you simply laughed to yourself.

“Then you obviously didn’t hear the part of the conversation where I disagreed with her and I said that it would get messy and that I would never do anything to keep you from your children.”

“Wait, what?”

“She was the one who suggested it, saying that it would be a more stable environment for them to grow up in one place.”

“Oh….”

“And I told her no.”

“Umm…”

“Jackman, get out.”

“I… wait….”

“What am I waiting for? You fucking embarassed me with that song and this isn’t the first time that you’ve embarrassed me in front of the entire world. The dead giveaway was saying Neelam doesn’t like her and telling me to drive safe. That’s what you would always tell me any time we leave each other. You took shots at me left and right and the sad part is because of who I am, you fucking know that I would do anything for you but I don’t get that same treatment in return. But now, we are not EVER getting married again. If you cannot simply come to me and ask me about something for clarification then we don’t need to be together.”

“Baby, I can fix this. Just let me fix it.”

“How? Fucking how, Jackman? The song has been released and it’s out for the world to see. There’s no coming back from that.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I bet you are.” You replied with tears pricking the corner of your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall. 

“I just need…”

“No. You don’t need another chance. We are done here. Pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house. At this rate because of what you pulled, you’ll be lucky if I even let you in the delivery room. Do not call me, do not text me, do not DM me, do not send a fucking carrier pigeon to get a message across to me. We.are.done. Done for good this time. And because of what you did, I just might file for full custody since our children don’t know how immature their father is. And on that note, good night and good day to you.”

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[krypticcafe]

Hi! I love your writing sm!!! Could I request how the boys + könig would react to a reader with curly hair? (We’re talking tight, kinky coily curls)

COD:MWII Boys w/a curly-haired partner

rating: PG-13

character(s): GN!Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, König, Hound

warning(s): none

a/n: aw thank you! And I love this request!! I'm not someone with curly, kinky hair, but I hear a lot about how they're super underrepresented. Even I'm tired of the "brushed his hand through your hair" or the "y/n with a messy bun/straight hair" bc PLEASSEE, my hair is a rat's nest, this would not work 💀 Anyways, I hope I did you justice and lmk if I got anything wrong!!

Gaz

Let's be honest, it's nothing new to him. He's experienced with coily, kinky hair, whether it be himself or his family or a friend.

I actually like to think he experimented with longer hairstyles before cutting it for military.

He gets you the most out of all of them, honestly. Knows exactly what you mean when you need a certain product or talk about maintenance, doesn't belittle you when you get upset over your hair, and helps a lot, too.

He doesn't have to do as much maintenance, so he doesn't use too much product, but sometimes he'll eye yours and make a note to try some for himself.

Since you and Gaz can trust each other, you sometimes have nights where you help style each other, just to spend some quality time.

Also yes, you guys have matching bonnets, it was actually his idea. You guys take so many pics together, too.

Gaz will notice if your hair looks healthier or fresher, and while he always thinks your curls are beautiful, he'll make extra compliments so that you know that he pays attention.

Oh, and if you do something special with it? He's all over you, all like, "What's the special occasion? Or am I just lucky today?"

Price

Your hair was one of the many reasons Price had noticed you so much, particularly because the military didn't really allow room for soldiers to do much with their hair and most have to gel it down if necessary.

When you tell him about the amount of care that goes into it, he starts thinking that his facial hair routine isn't so bad after all.

Once you get together, he starts looking into the product you need to get.

Unfortunately, he will have a bit of a hard time, so it's probably best if you show him the ropes for stuff like oils for protective styles, specific tools you use, etc. Otherwise, he'll be wandering around the aisle for a while. Please.

Sometimes, there'll be days where both of you guys take up the bathroom and go through your routines together, it's a pretty good way for him to learn your process and for you to learn his. There's a mutual respect.

Realistically, I don't think you would let either party take over for each other. At least, not for a long time.

If you put on a real nice outfit and let your natural hair out, oh this man will be on his knees, so use that information wisely.

Soap

Ooo, he's obsessed, I'm telling ya!!

Definitely gets stunned at how much it takes for you to take care of those curls, but not surprised that it's so difficult.

He does kinda wonder how you deal with it if you're someone that's on the battlefield.

You definitely had to tell him off for toying with it once, and he has stopped, but it's taking every inch of him to keep his ADHD ass from mindlessly twirling one between his fingers whenever you guys cuddle. But he isn't gonna do it! Unless you let him, then he loves how the texture feels.

You won't admit it, but sometimes you only let him touch it because of how happy it makes him, and you know he's being as respectful as possible.

He'll always be your #1 hype man too! Loves it when you experiment!!

You've definitely caught him wearing your bonnet multiple times, too.

One time, you decided to tease him by guiding him to help you detangle your hair, and frustration was absolutely worth it.

He got so pouty afterward when he had to give up, but you let him know he did a good job trying.

Ghost

He doesn't mean to be rude but he's definitely like "Can't be that bad."

And then you show him your grocery list.

It is that bad.

He gets frustrated and just buys one of everything, walking out of the store with like a dozen bags. He memorizes the ones you pick so there's that at least.

Don't mind him, he's just a bit blunt because he'll then ask, "Why don't you just cut/gel it?". Just explain it, and he'll respect your choice, though it intimidates him a little.

At one point, you're actually the one that lets him feel your hair, so he knows what it's like. He would never touch it unless invited, he's got too much self-control. People also become too intimidated by him to try to touch your hair too, so that's a plus.

It oddly soothes him, he likes how the texture feels on his fingers and especially when it's softer than usual.

One time, you used your own hand to help guide his through your hair, and oh man, was he flustered. Mans was glitching out for a few seconds.

Roach

He thinks your curls are so cute,

Like he literally can't stop watching you because of how they move when you walk.

On occasions where you let him touch it, you'll find that whenever you both are close to each other and really deep in an activity or conversation, he'll absent-mindedly roll a curl between his fingers.

His hands are good for many things, signing, fighting, and other fun stuff. Styling your hair is included!

One of his favorite things to do is help you find and try new styles with your hair. Roach loves looking up and researching about your hair type and what you can do with it, he finds it all super interesting!

Often buys you clips, beads, or whatever he thinks is pretty so you can try it on!

Loves to kiss your head because of how your hair tickles his face a little. He's been tempted to just bury his face in the back of your neck just to plant a bunch of kisses on more than one occasion.

On days where you put extra care into your curls, he's absolutely showing you off to everyone! He wants others to know how hard you worked to look so damn good!! (Gary says it's a full-time job, really)

König

Expect to find him staring all starstruck a lot.

Like a lot.

When you tell him it's your natural hair, he's surprised, he thought you just did a lot of work to make your curls so coily.

He once asked (very) politely if he could touch your hair, and because he was (extremely) nice about it, you let him.

Only for him to panic when the velcro from his glove got caught and he apologized a dozen times over. Afterwards, he treated you like porcelain, keeping his hands straight at his sides around you and acting like a spooked animal.

It got to a point where you had to confront him and tell him it was an honest mistake, and he didn't have to apologize which made him apologize more.

On the other hand, König enjoys watching you do your hair, just sitting there quietly with the occasional question. Sometimes, he helps comb your hair, but that's the most he'll let himself do since he doesn't want to mess things up.

Really loves how your products smell.

While he thinks you look amazing no matter what, he likes it best when you go natural.

Hound

Knows a lot more than you expected. They aren't well-versed, but they know more than the average person when it comes to the deal with kinky hair.

They'll go out with you on shopping trips and often help you pick out scents, one that you like but one that isn't too sensitive for their nose, it's something you didn't expect them to enjoy so much.

You can trust her to always have stuff on hand for you if you live separately or in different quarters. Oils, creams, custards, moisturizers, a hair pick (all from your fave brands, of course), she's got you.

He surprises you again when you come home one day, way too tired to do your routine, so he offers to do it for you.

If this was a test, they passed!! They even knew how to brush your hair the right way not to damage it and had already refilled some of your stock.

After that, you often find him helping on wash days when you're far too exhausted, as his way of pampering you. His favorite thing is doing your edges.

Her scary dog privileges also help ward off weirdos trying to touch your hair, and much like Soap, she hypes you up regardless if it's a frizzy day or a special occasion.

Expect them to be mildly addicted to the way your hair smells, it's literally one of their comforts because of how much it reminds them of you.

[peaceloveandf1]

Soft Launch pt.2

part 1

part 3

part 4

part 5

part 6

Summary: yn and Lance have been contemplating announcing their relationship for the past month. With paparazzi taking pictures left and right it’s bound to get out. Yn and her husband have been going through a long divorce and Abu Dhabi is the perfect way to celebrate finalizing it.

Pairing: Lance Stroll x reader

warnings: none

rating: PG-13

………………………………………

“You almost ready babe?”, I heard Lance call from somewhere in the hotel room. “Yeah, I’m coming”, I called shoving the back of my earring on and walking out of the bathroom to find Lance sitting on the bed looking absolutely amazing in his black suit.

“Woah…you look. Shit you look good” he smirked standing up, placing his hands on my hips. I roll my eyes and put my hands on his chest, “you don’t look too bad yourself”, I giggled, leaning in to kiss him. His hands begin to creep lower towards my butt as he starts to deepen the kiss. I reluctantly pull away from him, stopping whatever he’s planning. “Lance..” I began, “we have somewhere to be”. He huffed as I walked away and began to slip on my heels. “Dinner can wait. Can it not?”,he suggested. “No it can’t. We have a reservation and we’re meeting Chloe and Scotty.” I rolled my eyes again and grab my purse as he gives in and walks towards the door.

In the elevator I start to wring my hands, praying the paparazzi don’t catch us leaving the hotel. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Lance asked, pulling my hand into his. “I dunno. Maybe I shouldn’t have posted those pictures. I mean I’m just scared people are going to think I was cheating. I mean no one knows it’s been 10 months and now it’s finalized….they think we’re just separated”.

News of my separation had just been broken despite my divorce being finalized last month. My ex husband and I chose to keep the divorce quite for our son but it’s been harder and harder to keep it hidden since I started seeing Lance. We are both well known in our respective worlds, he’s an accomplished racer in formula 1 and I am an award winning singer-songwriter so the spotlight is nothing new. But hiding from it has certainly proved difficult so after 3 months we decided to do what my comms team called a “soft launch” with subtle nods to each other on our Instagram accounts.

 “It’s okay. No one is going to see us. I promise. And no one knows that we were in each other’s pictures.” Lance said trying to comfort me as the elevator chimed, signaling we reached the ground floor. “I feel bad we’re still hiding it though”, I sighed stepping out of the elevator turning towards him. “We can start dropping more hints if you want?” He suggested, brows raised. “Nothing big but technically you’re single now….so you can see whoever you want” he said, opening the door for me as I got in.

Leaning back against the leather seat, I nodded my head. “I think I’m just over thinking it.” I laughed. Lance’s laughter flooded my ears, “I think you’re right babe. Just relax and do what you want”.

The car stopped infront of the steakhouse and thankfully there were no paparazzi outside. Lance opened the door and took my hand as we began walking into the restaurant.

Chloe and Scotty were sat in the very back of the steakhouse and embraced us both immediately. “Hi kiddos” Scotty joked as we sat down opposite them. “Hi guys! How’ve you been?” I inquired as the waiter brought the bottle of wine Chloe ordered for the table. “Good! We were so happy we could make it to the race.” Scotty chimed in. “I’m so happy you could make it too” Chloe added placing her hand over mine. “Aww thanks Chlo, it’s great to see all of you” I said squeezing her hand.

Our dinner went amazing. The wine and conversations were both flowing and an atmosphere of peacefulness surrounded us. “You know they absolutely adore you” Lance said to me in the car back to the hotel. I laughed, “that’s reassuring. And you know my family feels the same about you” I whisper, planting a kiss on his cheek. The past three months with him have made up for the almost two years of heartbreak I felt. He’s the one that I finally feel content with.

“I’ve been thinking” I said as we stepped into the elevator. “Oh no” Lance joked as he wrapped and arm around my waist. “Ha ha.” I laughed sarcastically, “but I’m serious. I really feel bad about hiding us. I shouldn’t care what people think about me.” I sighed, leaning into him just as the elevator dinged. “I don’t want to do anything crazy but I’m just gonna say fuck it and do whatever.”

“So you’re saying you don’t care if people see us?” Lance asked, pushing open the door to our room. “Well kinda, maybe not see us but if the rumors fly I’m not going to let it get to me” I explained. “Fuck. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that” he laughed, pulling me into a deep kiss as we closed the door.

………………………………………

yourusername posted a story

liked by ScottyJames31, Lance_stroll, yourbestfriend, chloestroll and 2,030,481 others

[dragonmasterhiccup]

*UPDATED 9/18*

You can find the headcanons I use here!

NEW RP/ANON THREADS: OPEN

See below for details and blog rules!

(((IF ABOVE STATES AS CLOSED: Anons can still ask Hiccup questions, but I can't take on any additional storytelling anons or threads. If we already have one established, we can keep going until it concludes. Please let me know if you have any questions!

RULES:

I'm going to try to keep this short and sweet, but as time goes things will be added.

My blog is family friendly, please keep content PG! No language is preferred, but any strong language will not be answered, and only deleted.

I will do limited threads, just mainly focusing on asks/anons. Things are limited because I work a full time job, and I am married and have some additional responsibilities.

I have 10+ years of RP experience. Open to M!A and to anons! Any asks that do not follow the rules will be deleted. I will try to message you privately if I can, but if done on anon I will have to make a public post.

I only ship Hiccup with Astrid, and write him as straight. Please refrain from sending any asks hinting or stating that Hiccup has flirted/kissed any other characters.

HOWEVER, sometimes there is undeniable chemistry, in which case I may be open to an AU shipping the two characters.

Anon asks may be reblogged, but if it's an RP thread, please only like so it can easily be kept track of.

If you're an anon, and pretending to be a character from the movies or shows: if there are multiple different anons portraying the same character, it gets confusing fast. I may not respond if I already have another thread going with another anon for that character.

No godmodding, no grabbing or dragging Hiccup, no controlling Hiccup's or Toothless' actions, and no smut.

Mun is 21+, I just like to keep things clean.

You do not have to match my length, however, if all of your replies are essentially one to three sentences, I also struggle with responding to those as well. I work a very mentally demanding job, so sometimes I can't fill in the blanks, unless the muse is particularly strong with our thread.

Please refrain from sending very short responses that consist of: solely thoughts in your characters head, or just a short description of something your character is doing, with very little to no dialogue. I find that these are the most difficult to respond to, as there is not much of anything I can work with. I have nothing against one sentence dialogue responses, as sometimes they can be quite effective, just be sure to make it something I can respond to/work off of and be aware that my response may be just as short.

This goes for anything coming into my inbox: unless it's specified for the mun, please make sure it's something Hiccup can respond or react to in some way.

If you're interested in bringing in more characters from the HTTYD universe, just discuss it with me first! I will extend the same courtesy to you if we bring in more characters from your muses world.

Writing styles: For some reason, when someone writes with me and they're using first person pov (I, me) it's extremely off-putting. I've tried to continue despite that, but for some reason it just causes the Hiccup muse to shut down 🤷‍♀️ Third person works best, since rp is telling two different characters perspectives.

The only exception is if you're asking Hiccup a question, and it's not in conjunction with quotation marks for dialogue, I have zero issue with that.

I only add this because it's come up a few times: Hiccup is the type to ask questions when he thinks of them. If your character sits down and says "You must have some questions for me, ask away!" I tend to panic because everything we've ever written together immediately drops from my brain. I also use the app to write more than my computer, and it can be difficult to track down and reread our threads. Please try not to ask this of Hiccup unless it pertains to something that was revealed in your current response, I'd really appreciate it!

Do not be stressed to reply quickly, real life always comes first!

Got an idea for a thread? Let me know! I love to plot!

Want to bug Hiccup a bit? Send some fun anons! Ask him questions!

Don't know what to ask? Check out the tag #ask memes on my blog for inspiration!

Have questions for me? Message me! I'm open for chatting.

Mun fc is Rapunzel!

As for all of the HTTYD media, I have seen the movies, short films, and Race to the Edge. I am currently reading the books. I have not had an opportunity yet to watch Defenders of Berk or Riders of Berk just yet.

Thanks for reading! Send me a "My ring's outside" so I can know you read this all the way through!)))

[coffehbeans]

The Veiled Price (Prompt #51: Drink)

Prologue (you’re here)  |  Chapter 1

Masterpost of stories and prompts (you can send an ask for a prompt from the list!)

*ressurects from the ashes* I FINISHED IT, FINALLY AAAAAAAAAHHHHH *explodes*

Thank you for waiting guys! This was by far the most difficult story to write so far, hence why it took so long (i also procrastinated but shh)

This time it’s a prologue of one of my older g/t universes (5 years ago, to be exact gasps) This story tells the origins of one of my characters. I wouldn’t reveal his backstory until the main chapters but, eh I can’t resist ahushs Fair warning tho that this entire collection of stories will be rated PG-13 for graphic descriptions of pain and death.

Buckle up cause this is my longest story so far! Hope you enjoy!

Summary: It was common knowledge to the people of Immers: never trust the circes. But when lord Audwin Imore falls in desperation to prove himself to his father, he recklessly resorts to drastic measures.“Stop. That is not nearly enough.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Audwin laid on his knees on the floor, gasping for breath as if he had drowned, the sword he was previously holding fell a good distance away from him. He had barely processed what his father had said when the baron lowered his sword and started walking away from the exhausted child.

  “Had you been stronger or fiercer, I might have given you another chance. But this already proves your incompetence. I am not going to waste my time testing you any longer.”

  “Father, wait!”

  Audwin scrambled back up and lunged towards Hartmann, who had turned his back against his son. The child gripped the fabric of his father’s shirt and buried his head deep in it, as if the man would turn invisible, never to be seen again.

  “Please! I will get better! I can try again! I’ll do another strike and-”

  Hartmann wasted no time with the desperate pleas and yanked Audwin’s hands from his shirt. His grip around his son’s wrists tightened, cold and distant eyes scrutinizing his tearful ones. He shoved Audwin away and walked to the door as his child stumbled in recoil.

  “It would be wise to keep your mouth shut.”

  With that, he slammed the door closed, the sound ringing inside Audwin’s ears as the sharp words cut through his chest. He hiccupped and rubbed his face in his hands in a desperate attempt to stop his tears. Yet, an ember of resolve, remnants of a dream still not buried, burned within him.

  He was only eight. He could still become strong.

  ____________________________ 

  “Is that all you can do, Audwin?”

  His older brother teased between thrusts and parries of their swords. The teenager’s lungs begged for air, but his eyes remained steady.

  “You haven’t gotten me yet.”

  Audwin feigned an overhead strike in order to kick his brother in the middle and gain advantage, but Benedictus had a bright intellect and saw through his strategy. Going along Audwin’s plan at first, he pretended to raise his sword only to aim it towards his younger brother’s raised foot, colliding his blade with it in a swift motion. In a matter of seconds, Benedictus charged and knocked Audwin’s sword from his hand. It fell with a large clank to the ground. Not enough. I am still not strong enough, He thought as his expression fell.

  He glanced at his father, who had briefly stopped by to watch the sparring match between the brothers. Audwin held his breath as he looked at the stern and disappointed face across the room. 7 years after that last testing day, baron Hartmann barely regarded Audwin and his sister’s presence. The eldest son, Benedictus, occupied all that was left of the aged lord’s energy. The distant memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Audwin knew what his father wanted. Stability for the kingdom the land of Immers is part of. Acknowledgement of his merits by the king, the expansion of the state, or simply to make it strong and powerful. All those reasons spat out of the tenacious man’s mouth one time or another. He valued military strength for that exact reason, since providing armies to the king was the best way to get recognition as a baron. In the end, despite everything, the young lord admired his father’s goal. He longed to realize that dream alongside him and his brother, leading armies side by side with them, the sweet and rewarding feeling of honor overflowing his senses. And yet…

He cut his train of thought when Hartmann rose from his seat and left the sparring room without a word.

  His chances slipped away by each second. So many years went by, but he never won one match, never disarmed that swift, dexterous blade from his brother’s grasp. Audwin looked down in dejection, but Benedictus’s firm hands on his shoulder awoke him from his stupor.

  “Don’t worry. I am sure you will surpass me in no time. Just keep practicing.” He said with considerate eyes.

  “I’m not so sure that is possible anymore, Benet.” Audwin said with a sigh.

  “Nonsense! You still have time ahead of you. Regardless, I will be here to massage our father’s ego, and in the meantime, you can focus on bettering yourself.” He said in futile reassurance, despite Audwin appreciating his consideration. “While I am doing that, you can be present for Otilia.”

  Benedictus was right, he could not lose his focus from her. At least he had his mother back then when his father rejected him, but his little sister never had the chance to meet her, and was ignored by the baron since her birth. Audwin huffed as the memory ignited anger in his chest. Ever since Otilia was born, he promised he would give her company.

  “Why do you care so much about impressing him, anyway? It is me who must reach his expectations, after all. You know how the old man’s thoughts are ridiculous.”

  “Because…” Audwin paused. He recalled that day back at his first trainings. Laying on the ground out of breath, his father looming over him with a disapproving look. A flame of resentment rising within him, burning deep inside his chest, conviction brimming in his eyes. They remain burning until this day, the fire threatening to consume him whole.

  “He will only recognize the mistake he’s made when I show it to his face.”

  ____________________________ 

   “Have you heard? Master Audwin has been secretly sneaking out at night to train inside the forest”

  “Ah, you shall not worry about that. It has been so for the past four years.” The governess responded the curious maid with a dismissing motion of her hand.

  “Four years? In the middle of the woods? Does lord Hartmann not know about this? And it is not a place for a nobleman to go into, especially with the circes roaming in it.”

  “Do you still believe in those fairytales?”

  “You do not believe it, mistress?”

  The governess paused with a hesitant look.

  “Well, I admit. No sane soul goes to the circes’ territory.” She approached the maid with a firm look on her face.

  “But listen. Lord Audwin is not a sane soul. Not since he started training in secret. Something deep and… Obsessive, moves him. And it is not our business to meddle with our lord’s affairs.”

  The governess stayed inches close to the chambermaid’s face, and whispered in a hushed, alarmed tone.

  “May this be kept between us, and we shall not inform lord Hartmann about his son’s endeavors, or there shall be great consequences.”

  The servant, who is used to following orders without question, nodded earnestly, and they moved on from the conversation.

  She did not know that the governess has been told by the young noble himself to conceal his secret.

  ____________________________ 

  Audwin struck his sword against the tree trunk as hard as he could, hoping to form a bigger dent on it than the ones from four years ago. He remembered the marks his father left with his sword on the wood back at his childhood, when he gave a demonstration of brute strength at the corner of the forest. A cut deep and precise. Those were the standards the sons of baron Hartmann Imore had to strive for.

  And he would achieve that.

  With a powerful grunt, Audwin striked the final blow on the trunk.

  It barely went deeper than last time.

  Audwin stared at the thin mark gasping for breath, distraught. He trained so hard, for all those years, and yet his strength still barely surpassed his fifteen-year-old self.

  Why. Why am I so pathetic?

“You wish to be stronger, young gentleman? That is your final ambition?”

  Audwin was startled by a melodic and feminine voice coming from the woods. He turned around in shock, and the sight haunted him:

  From the dense trees and into the clearing emerged a short and slender figure, covered in a black dress with black robes, and long, ebony hair that came down below the waist. Her blue eyes radiated color in an unnatural fashion, entrancing him in a deep, compassionate gaze. The figure let a small smile.

  “Who are you?” – Audwin tried to contain the tremble within his voice.

  “Just a commoner picking fruits inside these woods. You are one of the baron Hartmann’s sons, I presume?” – she answered in an innocent manner.

  “Do not fool me, witch. I know precisely what you are. It is wise if you leave me alone if you wish to live.” Audwin pointed his sword in the direction of the creature.

  And she giggled wholeheartedly.

  “My my, I might have underestimated your intelligence.” The witch’s piercing eyes peered at him with glee. “And yet, you retort me with such vile words just because of some foul rumors about me. Where are your manners?” she mocked sadness.

  “Leave.”

  “Shouldn’t I be saying this to you? This is my territory, after all.”

  Without a proper counterargument, Audwin went silent, and the circe smirked. She hit the jackpot.

  The witch slowly trudged her bare feet towards the hesitant man.

  “I suppose the reason you invaded my territory to train in the middle of the night is because of a deep desire within your soul.” She closed the distance between them, and Audwin felt sweat dripping for his forehead. Somehow, her presence paralyzed him in fear.

  How much more pathetic could he get?

  “I know the baron’s fame around the land.” She continued. “His methods are rigorous, and his standards are high towards his heirs. He saw your below average strength, and deemed you unworthy of military and governmental affairs.”

  Audwin remained silent, sword unsheathed. His expression threatened to betray the fear within him, yet he remained steady and firm.

  “What a shame, I must say. If only your efforts to better yourself had paid off.” She glanced at the scratch on the tree.

  Audwin should not be immobile. He knew the danger he was under. His mind told him to run and never come back to the woods, but his feet remained planted in place. It was as if the circe had put a spell on him that prevented him from running. Were those creatures even capable of such magic? Or was his fear the spell that made him frozen in place?

  The circe inched closer and closer, until they were inches apart. Those vibrant blue eyes stared deep into his brown ones, her small smile never changing. If she came even closer, she would be able to ruffle his ash brown, wavy hair with a single exhale.

  “I know a way to make you stronger. No matter what others have told you about me, I have the solution you are looking for. However, it comes at a price.”

  Audwin took a shallow breath, and mustered up the courage to reply, in a faint voice.

  “All of this monologue in order to convince me to fall for your tricks? I’m afraid your efforts have proved unsuccessful.”

  Despite that, she grinned.

  “Oh, foolish nobleman, I do not wish to convince you of anything. On the contrary, I am quite happy with my living conditions now. I have no use in tricking unfortunate souls like you.”

  Audwin scoffed in disbelief, and the circe’s never-changing smile remained. She turned around and started strolling around him.

  “I am just telling you a fact. The other humans know the rumors of my power, yet few know I mostly work in favor of them. As long as they have the proper rewards to give me, I am capable of realizing any wish they so desire, all within a single concoction.”

  The witch looked at Audwin’s unmoving eyes with peace and joy. He could not fall for her foolish talk. Yet, the words echoed in his mind.

  If they have the right reward, any wish they so desire within a single concoction…

  No. He would not falter. He is capable of being strong on his own.

  Upon reading the young lord’s expression, the witch stopped her joyful stride around him.

  “Oh well. If you wish to remain in your methods, I shall waste no further time talking to you.” She turned around and started walking away from him, and Audwin finally felt relieved enough to lower his sword slightly.

  “Just remember, nobleman. I reside deep within the forest, across this clearing we stand.”

  Without any further word, she entered the dense part of the woods, and her silhouette disappeared.

  Audwin wasted no time and swiftly left the place the instant she was gone.

  ____________________________ 

  While Audwin was in his office studying, he easily drifted to the words the circe had said to him.

  Could she really be capable of making him stronger?

  If he really would not be able to acquire more strength than his physique was capable of, maybe…

  No. What was he thinking? He knew they were trickster creatures, she wants him to drink the potions she provides. Yet here he was falling for her tricks!

  Audwin was abruptly cut off from his thoughts when his brother entered the door in a hurry.

  “I came from a reunion with father. We’re going in a war against the province from northeast.”

  Audwin raised his head and his heart started beating faster. Could it be? Would he finally be able to fight? To prove himself?

  “In that case, I must prepare the convocations right away.” Audwin said.

  “About that, the reason I came in such a hurry is because… Father does not want to put you responsible for the other half of the army.”

  “… What?”

  “Just the usual foolishness of that old man. He believes putting you as their leader will cause failure to the king’s nation.”

  Audwin felt rage bubbling up inside his chest. “You cannot be serious.”

  “Sadly, this is precisely why I came to talk to you with such urgency.” His brother frowned in an apologetic tone. “I do not want to accept this either, Audwin. But as much as I want to go against father’s orders, he will still go to war with us. He would not let us go through such a plan, and it would lead us both to grave consequences and even chaos amongst our troops.”

  “Yes, I understand.” Audwin muttered under his breath with clenched teeth. “I have no other option then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I will have a talk with father.”

  “Will it work, I wonder?”

  An idea sparked in Audwin’s mind.

  “If I fail to convince father, how about a sparring match between we two? It’s my last chance to prove it to him, if I win.”

  Benedictus put a hand on his chin in thought. This could work.

  “Alright, leave the matching arrangements and convincing our father to me.”

  Audwin’s eyes were piercing and determined. He would lead that war. And he would prove his father once and for all.

  “Just, if we do have to cross blades at the end, do not go easy on me.”

  His brother laughed proudly. “Leave it to me.”

  ____________________________

  The evening came and Audwin hastily strode in the halls. His father could not be serious. The young nobleman knew that the great lord Hartmann would prefer if his middle son matched his ideals of warrior, but he could still fight! What nonsense to not let him lead as per tradition? He knew he was not as fast, or not as strong, or not as intelligent, but he still had capabilities of his own. He did well at his studies, and did average at his training, but he could still lead an army. Then, why? Why would he be regarded as a mere foot soldier? Audwin huffed with the boiling frustration he felt, but he took yet another round of deep breaths to calm his mind. He needed to be as levelheaded as possible if he were to convince his father to give him a leading position at war.

  He felt someone tugging the back of his coat and looked behind him.

  Otilia clung to the fabric as her bright, round eyes stared pleadingly at her brother. The sight made all the previous anger he felt disappear.

  “Brother, can we play?” – she hugged her porcelain doll. Otilia loved to play house, and Audwin was often one of her most esteemed guests to her tea parties. Playing like that felt embarrassing, but he liked to indulge his sister in her plays, and very soon she would be all grown up and not interested in dolls anymore.

  He knelt and glanced at the young girl with sweet eyes.

  “Not now Otily, brother’s busy. But I promise that as soon as I’m free, we’ll play together. Alright?”

  The docile child nodded, despite her face falling. She was considerate and had a peaceful nature, so reasoning with her was quite easy.

  “Ah, ok. But I’ll wait for you!”

  He knocked on the door gently. Audwin chose that precise time because he knew his father had finished most of his tasks and was fairly on his best mood. The best mood being a less intolerant one.

  “Sir, may I come in?”

  The room went silent for a bit upon hearing Audwin’s voice, but Hartmann mumbled a deep “yes” without any objections. Great. That meant he had some sort of chance of reasoning with him. The door groaned as he opened it and the room echoed with Audwin’s steps. He stopped to face his father, who sat on his armchair, chin resting on the top of his hands.

  “What urgent matters bring you here?” he narrowed his eyes. Audwin breathed in.

  “I have heard about the news of war against the east province. I thought about a few strategies, and I was wondering if I could-“

  “Everything has already been accounted for and discussed with your brother and the rest of the nobility. The war plans are not to be changed.”

  “Then, if that is the case, maybe I-“

  “You are not going to lead this war, Audwin. Stay at the position I assign you to. Now leave.”

  Audwin’s composure started to fall.

  “Then, tell me, why should I not? I could help.”

  Hartmann stood up.

  “Why? You present me with your pitiful abilities, and you are asking why? I have slave soldiers who perform better than you, and most presumably will not die at this war, unlike yourself.”

  “But I know how to analyze! I may not have as much strength or speed, but I can elaborate a worthy strategy or, or something! Please, I-“

  Audwin was interrupted by a backhand slap, the force almost knocking him to the ground. He widened his eyes as pain throbbed at his left cheek.

  “You recoiled from this? Insolent. Can you not see how pathetic of a son you are? Weak, pleading, coward. You have no authority to question me. Your ‘strategies’ are of no value to me.”

  He looked down with furious eyes, strands of hair covering part of his face.

  “Now leave, if you know better. I will not hesitate to demonstrate what I do to those who disobey me.”

  Audwin stormed out of the room, looking at the patterns of the corridor floors, ignoring his sister’s room as he passed by it. Rage bubbling deep inside his chest.

  He left the manor, heading straight towards the stable. He picked his horse.

  And rode off towards the forest.

  ____________________________ 

  The horse galloped deep inside the forest, tall trees covered the moonlight, obscured by their dense foliage, casting the place in shadow. Looking straight in front of him, Audwin pressed on, dodging branches and twigs until he reached that same clearing from days before. Crossing it to the other side of the woods, the horse ran until they reached the base of a mountain, where caves were abundant. One single boulder covered in vines was planted in front of the rocky mountain, as big as a house, with a chimney and a wooden door. It must be the place of that circe.

  Audwin dismounted from his horse and approached the cave, knocking at the door. He sent a glance towards the satchel attached on his hip, it had to be enough. The door immediately opened, revealing the same entrancing woman from before.

  “Young nobleman! What a pleasure to see you here! Come inside!”

  “Not yet.” He opened his satchel, revealing a generous amount of money and a family heirloom inside. “First, I need to make sure this qualifies for that ‘reward’ you previously mentioned me.”

  The witch gave a brief glance at the goods before sending him a knowing smile.

  “It is more than enough. Now come.”

  The last thing Audwin heard before closing the door was the disgruntled neighs from his beloved horse companion.

   “I figured your wish. You want to be stronger, the greatest warrior of the kingdom. Maybe even the fiercest warrior on earth?”

  “The strongest, the fiercest, such words could describe what I wish. You already know that much. If I do not acquire this strength for a match tomorrow, I will not be able to lead the army alongside my brother.”

  The circe smirked.

  “I see, so that is why you came to me with such urgency” She grabbed the satchel of gold he previously gave her. “Yes… A price worth paying to achieve what you never managed to by your strength alone.”

  Audwin gulped the frustration that bubbled inside his throat.

  “Yes, a concoction for such a wish is easy to make.” The circe got up.

  She went to the caldron in front of her in the small room, which already had an unknown liquid inside. Whatever that substance was, it seemed to be the main part of the potion, because she only added a few unknown herbs and spices to the boiling liquid, mixing them with a huge spoon, which turning it into an unnatural blue hue. The substance condensed until it barely occupied the bottom of the caldron, and she easily tilted the heavy stone pot into a small rectangular glass bottle in her hands, not missing a single drop.

  As simple as that, the potion was finished. The witch tied the lid with a cork and a blue lace in to decorate it. It looked almost lovely. She handed it to Audwin who watched everything with his eyes widened in shock. Never had he seen something so out of the natural. He second-guessed his reasons to be there.

  “If your sparring match is at night, drink it in the afternoon. Your strength will come shortly after and you will be able to win the fight. Oh, and do wear some bigger clothes before you drink it, maybe borrow ones from your older brother.”

  Audwin held the bottle with the blue liquid in his trembling hands, not believing what he had just done.

  “Good luck in the war. It’s going to happen in a few days, right?”

  “Yes.”

  The witch’s calm smile widened slightly.

  “Lovely! Have a nice success.”

  “I hope I never see you again.” Audwin murmured, and left the strange house through the wooden door, closing it. He hid the bottle inside another pouch he carried, and trotted with his horse away from the dense forest.

  It was only after the horse’s sounds could not be heard anymore that the witch leaned against the doorframe.

  “How rude. I help him this much and this is how he says goodbye?” She said to herself in a mocking tone, not able to contain the giggles that came right after. Her smile stretched across her face, chest filling with pride upon another successful purchase of a desperate soul.

  “And I hope you soon know that this is not the last time you’ll hear of me.”

  ____________________________

  The day of the match had arrived. Audwin sat alone in his bedroom, door locked, the sparkling blue liquid of the bottle swirling in his hands. His heartbeat slammed against his ribcage. Every part of his mind advised him to not take the potion. To not drink it. This has been a mistake.

  Yet, he had no choice. He either drank it or he would lose the spar, not ever being able to win the respect of his father again.

  He had come this far, he would not back down now.

  Audwin removed the cork from the glass and smelled the contents inside it. The scent was sweet to an almost sickening point. His breath stopped for a moment, his heart slamming harder against his chest.

  And in a single, swift motion, he chugged the potion’s contents down.

  The taste was sweet like honey yet felt refreshing, but a bitter aftertaste made him cough violently. Audwin put the bottle on the nightstand and held his face in his hands, gasping for air. Whatever he had done, it was settled.

  The effects were almost instantaneous, for his head started throbbing so strongly against his skull he grabbed it between his hands. Not only did his throat burn, but the entirety of his body, like he had been set on fire.

  Suddenly, Audwin clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth as his bones crackled and his muscles stretched. His veins popped as he bit his arm to muffle his screams.

  In a matter of minutes, the disturbing shifting sounds stopped, and his pain subdued to a light ache.

  Audwin took deep breaths to calm himself before slowly getting up, not used to how his joints snapped after the sudden change. He looked to his arms and torso, noticing how more muscled they seemed. Not only that, his brother’s clothes which were so loose in him now fit him perfectly. He looked at the ground, noticing how much farther it seemed. It seems he had gotten taller as well.

  The potion had worked.

  Audwin breathed in, surprised at how instant everything was. Suddenly he felt stronger, fiercer, more than capable. And all it took was a family heirloom and a few amount of money. He took careful, stumbling steps towards the mirror, not yet used to his new body. He glanced at himself, and almost fell down in absolute shock.

  The person in front of him was unrecognizable. The thin, fragile frame was completely replaced by an athletic and trained body, to the point even his jaw seemed more angular. Audwin stared wide eyed at his reflection, and felt such an enormous amount of joy in his chest he felt like he would cry. This is it. That was the day he would win his father’s respect. He was sure of it now.

  When Audwin left the room, he was wearing armor from head to toe, with only his face at view. If he were using only his brother’s clothes, the changes would seem too abrupt and suspicious to everyone.

  He arrived at the sparring room with his brother already there, who looked at him in surprise.

  “I guessed this was supposed to be simple sword sparring, Why the sudden armored-warrior-stance now?” He said jokingly.

  “I thought we might take this more seriously, to convince him.” Audwin said, trying to contain the shock upon hearing himself speak. Even his voice sounded a bit deeper.

  “Well, in take case, I should put mine on as well. I said I’ll not go easy on you, after all.”

  After Benedictus got ready, Baron Hartmann arrived not long after, his confident attitude the same as ever. His footsteps echoed across the room as the lords and servants went silent, sitting across a cushioned seat that was placed to the side, at the right amount of distance from where the fight would happen. He raised his hand in a dismissive motion and the servants left in a hurry.

  Audwin took deep breaths. In and out, in and out. He could practically feel his new body shifting under his command, the grip of his hands tightening on the handle of the sword. He felt good, reinvigorated.

  He would win that match.

  Audwin and Benedictus positioned on opposites sides at the center, waiting for the command to start the sparring. In an instant, the world disappeared, leaving only Audwin and his father. Audwin stared deep in those condescending eyes, determination burning bright.

  “Begin.”

  Benedictus lunged forward in amazing speed, but Audwin stayed in place. He waited for his brother to get inches close to him until he evaded that sword’s thrust and lashed his blade against it. Benedictus recoiled in surprise, not expecting to lose his balance from the sheer strength of Audwin’s moves. They exchanged jabs and swings back and forth, each blow from his blade surpassing his brother’s and baron Hartmann’s expectations, who, for the first time in years, widened his eyes. The moves got more and more aggressive, fiercer as time passed, and Audwin thrived at his newfound strength.

  The match ended quickly with Audwin’s final blow knocking Benedictus’s sword so hard it flew across the room and pierced the wall with a crack. His brother fell on his knees, panting, gasping out of tiredness but also out of astonishment. He had done it. His little brother had won a match. He raised his head to see Audwin extending his hand towards him, a cheerful glee across his face. He could not help but smile in return, proud of his brother for finally proving their jerk of a father wrong, and taking his hand to get up. He knew he would do it.

  Both brothers stared at their father in expectation, who tried to return to his usual composure, despite the clear shock in his eyes. He got up and cleared his throat.

  “Ahem, the terms of this match that your brother had told me were, if you won it, you would lead the other half of the army, according to old rules.”

  He closed hies eyes and mustered the courage to look at his forsaken son.

  “Therefore, I shall hold my end of the promise. Meet me in a few hours for further discussions.”

  He got up from his chair much slower than usual, although his walk out was at a faster pace. Without any additional words, the man left.

  Audwin looked at his brother contently, a confident complexion on his face.

  “Well, you did it, little brother.” Benedictus said with a proud smile. He touched Audwin’s shoulder in reassurance.

  “See you tomorrow, then.”

  “Yeah.” Audwin let out a constrained smile, attempting to ignore the searing pain burning underneath his skin.

  Was it the fight? His muscles ached and tensed with each step towards his bedroom. He needed to prepare himself and dress appropriately for the meeting later, yet his clothes were probably unfitting for him now and he barely could sit straight. Audwin entered his room and removed his armor with hurry, gasping for breath. He stared at his hands as they sweated and trembled uncontrollably.

   Something was not right.

  It was not long before the pain increased to the point Audwin kneeled by the bedside, clutching the sheets. Desperate for a quick solution, he decided it was best he searched for that witch before he could not react anymore. He left his room in a hurry, passed through all concerned servants, until he reached the stable, where he took his horse and ran outside with as much force as he could, barely holding onto the horse’s reins as the burning sensation teared through his bones.

  ____________________________ 

  He entered the dense forest, passed through the thick bushes, and ended up at the same clearing. Startled by a mysterious force, the horse stopped abruptly, throwing Audwin out of it and onto the grass. He gasped and raised his head to find the animal galloping away from him. No. But he could not go after it now, he had to get up and reach that witch and demand her, plead her if he needed, to know what was going on and how to fix the unbearable pain.

  He barely had time to think when the flaring pain raised in intensity and he doubled over in agony. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he grunted and dug his fingers in the dirt. Quicker than he could process, a stinging sensation ruled over his body as his skin felt cramped and tight. He looked at his shaky hand, immediately regretting it when he saw what was happening, heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. His fingers elongated and bent with loud cracks, the shifting of bones making him choke as the sensation slowly crept up his arms until it completely stabbed all his body. He screamed and looked to the ground in agony, not wanting to see what was happening to him. His breathing became labored and short, desperation clenching at his chest. He groaned and curled inside himself in a failed attempt to stop the deafening crack of his bones reforming and increasing in density, his muscles stretching and spasming. His spine felt like it was snaping inside his body and piercing through his sore skin. Audwin contained the tears welling up in his eyes as he clenched his teeth so hard, he thought he would break them.

  He never should have taken the potion. He knew the dangers from the beginning. He knew and he took it without a second thought. He did not know if his chest burned from the extending ribcage or from his anger at himself.

  By the time the searing pain subsided to a sore throb, Audwin was panting and covered in sweat, his hands holding a large, heavy portion of earth from the ground he was on.

  Kneeling, he attempted to stand up, but his weakened state made him stumble backwards in a loud thud. He thought an earthquake had happened at the exact same time. Why was everything so loud? Where was he? He could not see the familiar trees surrounding the clearing anymore. He hunched over and took shallow breaths, holding his forehead in his hands and searching for a familiar sight. There, knee level with him, were bushes. He looked closer. They were attached to small but thick trunks.

  His heart stopped for a second.

  He must be having a nightmare, supposing things.

  He kneeled by the bushes and touched one of them. Same texture as leaves. He snatched one from the ground and heard loud, cracking noises. Attached to it were roots.

  Those were trees.

  Audwin widened his eyes and shot up, dropping the tree with a deafening thud, resisting the vertigo that came over him when he realized just how high up he was, yet his feet were planted firmly on the ground.

  No. He must be having a hallucination.

  He took slow, shaky steps. They shook the earth like earthquakes.

  He must be in his room at that moment, having a lucid nightmare.

  He saw birds flying away with loud squawks. As small as fleas.

  This is not real. It’s not real. It is not real.

  The moonlight barely illuminated his path. He trudged aimlessly towards the forest until he reached the bottom of a mountain. There was a cave, and he went inside. He laid down with his bare body on the cold dirt.

  Maybe if he closed his eyes, he would wake up in his bedroom, and he would forget. Pretend that nightmare never happened.

  That night, the circe appeared to Audwin in a dream. The unmoving smile, icy blue eyes staring lovingly in his direction. Hatred burned inside his chest, yet he found himself paralyzed. The witch laughed.

  “Foolish human. Have you not done your homework? Circes thrive in mischief and trickery.”

  He tried to scream, to launch at her and demand to change back, but he found himself unable to move.

  “Yet I have not lied to you. Indeed, I gave you what you most wished for. You became the strongest individual in this earth. However, in return, you gave me your humanity.”

  The circe’s smile grew wider, and Audwin remained speechless, not making a single sound.

  “I appreciate the riches and jewels you gave me, though. I consider it a bonus gift to myself.” She said in irony.

  And without a word, she vanished, and the dream evaporated with her.

  When he opened his eyes, he still found his bare body laid down on the harsh rocky soil, inside the same dark, humid cave.

  ____________________________ 

  No one knows what happened to the second son of baron Hartmann. As far as witnesses know, he disappeared without a trace.

  Many theorize that the beast from deep within the woods ate him while he trained in one of his secret midnight sessions, as was told by that governess who had once promised secrecy.

  Maybe the monster of the forest, who was rumored to have terrorized countless villages and stolen their crops would one day disappear, never to be heard again or to install fear in others.

  But five years after the obscure legend of Immers, their feigned peace would come to a close, after the arrival of an eccentric foreigner at a village across the state.

  The echoes of a feminine laughter could still be heard deep inside those woods.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Garcy + "You need to take your health more seriously."

Usual post-canon-divergence, PG-ish, and also on ao3.

He worries her.

This is not a problem Lucy is used to having, or perhaps a capability, she’s not sure how to categorize or describe any of this, and… the discovery of new emotional potential courtesy of that man should stop feeling so surprising. He brings out dimensions of herself that she didn’t know were there, more of them good than bad, and-

Everyone who’s ever told her that she’s a self-care disaster can get gone as far as she’s concerned. At least she responds to being told as much. Unlike some people.

To be fair, Flynn functions on a level of input that is… frankly horrifying, now that they are loose in the normal world again and she’s pretty sure their hesitant domestic arrangement hinges on the fact that they’re very good at saving each other from themselves. Responses to substances at least make an amount of sense; of course someone roughly twice her size is going to be able to comfortably out-drink her, and coffee black enough to be a different consistency somehow does nothing. It’s the rest of it, the growing secondhand realization that he’s not totally in touch with his body, above all the not sleeping enough, above all-

Going to bed, yes, fine. There have been no complaints about the fact that she does not like sleeping alone and ideally she’d like to be held. But she’s noticed she always falls asleep first and wakes up last and her own habits really aren’t that great either and-

Is this something she gets to have an opinion about? Is she allowed to be difficult about something she knows is probably, at least in part, like all the other weird shit both of them do, a trauma thing?

She decides it is, after enough time has passed, after probably too much time, after she starts to accept that they probably can’t get rid of each other.

It’s been one of those days, a perfectly good weekend afternoon wasted on chasing a stubborn bat out of the attic, always something to do in this restart she’d intentionally decided would happen in a part of the country neither of them has any real history in because that was supposed to help them reacclimate, and now it’s late and she’s pretty sure she’s going to hallucinate bat noises for a couple days but she is sure she saw the damn thing fly out the vent, and-

“Come to bed with me,” she says. This part she has under control, this part she knows her partner will do what she wants. So tangled around her fingertips, some combination of fate and guilt and-

They’re good at this, domestic routines and so much quiet, and she thinks sometimes that accidental-roommates-with-mutual-unspoken-crushes is a stage all relationships ought to go through because it’s made them stronger now, and-

“Try to rest,” she murmurs as their bodies shift together, just a hint of that demanding voice she tries to use so cautiously. “Please. For me.”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to give her some sweet reassurance of a lie, and she’s just not in the mood. They survived a goddamned time war; they can survive what might turn into the first argument they’ve had afterwards that did not involve paint or overconfidence with electrical or-

“Don’t… you do not get to talk your way out of this. You need to take your health more seriously, and you don’t-“

“Lu-“

“Don’t. Whatever the hell nightmares… I’m here. We are here. And I am so worried and-“

At least he has the sense not to fight her, at least for now. She knows this isn’t over – it’s them, nothing is ever over – but she knows the look in his eyes, the yes-ma’am of it all, and so help her she will not fix him but-

“I’ll try. For you.”

“I’m keeping my eyes open until yours are closed, understand?”

“That may be a while.”

“That’s your problem.”

She flips the light, and it is objectively a little harder to read the situation in the dark, but… she does know him, sleep next to someone most nights for two years and you know them, and she waits until breathing patterns change and the arm around her waist loosens just a little.

At best this is a temporary victory, but it’s something. She has her issues too, and-

The worrying won’t ever stop – at best it’ll change form – but at least for tonight she’s won. At least it’s something.

[anukulee]

@thedistractedagglomeration While we haven’t been properly acquainted, I can’t say that nobody wasn’t diminished by your lack of presence. For everyone on here who is apart of this fandom contributes something to someone and just to prove the point, I have a surprise for you *whistles*.

Loki: You dare to summon me through whistle. I am not one of your mangy  Midgardians dogs.

@anukulee: *holds arms up in surrender* I thought we would try something new.

Loki: Try again.

@anukulee: You said to stop calling you burdened with glorious purpose, so what else was I suppose to do?

Loki: *puts hand to head and sighs* I can’t with you.

@anukulee:

@thedistractedagglomeration: *snickers to herself softly*.

Loki: While I relish in the sound of the laughter of a ravishing woman, may I ask why you are doing that?

@thedistractedagglomeration: You don’t know.

Loki: Know what?

@thedistractedagglomeration: The culture reference of what @anukulee just said?

Loki: No, I don’t, but if I were to hear the words coming out as a mouth such as yours I am sure I would listen *leans down and kisses @thedistractedagglomeration hand*.

@anukulee: Here we go again *sighs and puts hand on head*.

Loki:

@anukulee: I hate to break it to you Romeo, but like @lokisgoodgirl she is taken I am afraid.

Loki: By whom another pathetic excuse for Midgardian men that I have heard about?

@anukulee: Not to my knowledge either way that means she is off limits, so try to keep the flirting pg-13.

Loki: And why should I have to hold myself back in front of such a ravishing woman, just because she is married?

@anukulee: Please tell me you are joking.

Loki: Am I *wiggles eyebrows*?

@anukulee: *sighs in defeat, and waves Loki off* Do whatever just try not to prosper her. Seeing as she is married.

Loki: I make no promises, now leave.

@anukulee: And where will I go?

Loki: To see Strange.

@anukulee: He is currently in Kamar-Taj which means reaching him is difficult.

Loki: Fine, then I shall send you else where.

@anukulee: Wait where *vanishes in a puff of Loki’s magic*.

Loki: Now where were we?

@thedistractedagglomeration: Ummmm 😳.

Loki: *snaps his fingers* Ah yes, I was going to show you just how much your contribution means to mean. Now I shall ask this one time without that meddling @anukulee, what do you say?

@lokisbirdofhermes @lokisgoodgirlbackup @lokisprettygirl @lokisprettygirl22 @loki-smut-library @lady-rose-moon @lokisbirdofhermes @simplyholl @sailorholly @wheredafandomat @five-miles-over @queen-paladin @sserpente @smolvenger @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @michelleleewise @mcufan72 @holdmytesseract @the--sad--hatter @chantsdemarins @evelyn-kingsley @eleniblue @friggadottirr @lokiburdenedwithgloriouspurpose @lokibug @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lotsoflokilove23

[holdhoiyghost]

finished writing @ 6:33 am 12/22/23

fixed typos @ 6:42 am

dream begins on a sort of tv show, where this guy was helping out a less fortunate family get more civilized and used to 'normal life' since they liked like super separate from the outside world. i remember him trying to keep some gated animals in their gates but they kept getting out. or trying to do everything around the house w no help. and then him trying to leave but the mom comes out n shes like super pregnant. he was strugglin so so hard, and so for some reason mark n i took over.

so there i was with markiplier, for some reason going to help with this thing for views ig since it was broadcasted for tv. we were loading stuff in the house at first and it was sorta weird? like there were boxes i could move (blue cube thingys) and i could sorta platformer on them but there were also just. stairs.

so we meet the family. all are pretty normal. ish. i guess. for a family that doesnt rly no normal things yknow? and so we get to work teaching them for tv.

and shit gets like weird here right? idk how long we were there for or anything but i remember that we got the kids some fancier clothes n they looked so cool. there was a red dress w a bow n that was nice. idk what the son wore but the daughters had the same thing.

then for some reason between me n mark doin stuff to help theres a scene of mf peter griffin chillin out with a separate kid on the couch watchin him play games? and the kid is sad and peter asks whats up and the kid says that he'd rather also talk about it with his mom around so he goes to get her. i remember sort of a voice in peters head talking cause pg was sort of upset by this and it was like "yeah this is a good time to cry" and so the kid n mom got back and ended up comforting pg and they gave each other a Look over his back? i think it was either same family different time or just . there. idk.

nyways back to me n mark. there we were helpin the family when wow! matpat shows up! he drove there to help mark n i and so we show him some cool stuff and he doesnt like any of it. not even the cool water table that you can drink river water from. (table had water runnin down the middle of it from idk where to idk where, and was rly grainy with sand). he didnt like it cuz microbes or smth.

mark left me n him alone togo talk to the family abt somethin so matpat n i were jut Chillin ™ . i remember that . the water on the table turned red n i had said smth about 'that time of the month' to mat, tho idk why the table would have been? connected to bathrooms for that? though i guess with that happening it kinda set off some this is Bad alarms for us since it happened twice. and so we kinda started making our way to the door to gtfo

and when we saw mark sort of across the room? or when we were already out the door? holding his stomach and very much bleeding we kind of . booked it to the van n left him there since freaky family was m behind him and lookin like they absolutely did smth to him (and were gonna to us). i hop in the passenger seat n close the door behind the passenger from the inside since i think i opened it in my rush to get in? mat jumps in the drivers n we were gonna try to get mark in but . the mom was like Right Behind him and the kids were tryin to get in so we like left left him. i feel bad about it after wakin up n i felt bad inside the dream/nightmare too.

nyway mat n i leave. the window acts a little weird n one if the kids ;def more of a monster by this point) almost gets in the car but i stop them n roll up the window again (a little difficult but yeah). i tell mat to ignore the stop sign at the turn (no need for a stopsign there anyway...it was 1 road no intersection). he does n we go down the mountain n end up platformin the van across a pond o water??? somehow??

we get to the other side and there is. a whole bunch of platforming to be done. and its in like sort of a semicircle but not Realy a semicircle ykwim? like it kinda curved but not . n there's a body sitting up in the middle of it in a weird suit of armor? (thats what it looked like but. i dont think it was?? unsure)

(btw when we were leaving the family they said it didnt matter if we got away cause they understood human customs now? so theyd see us again soon)

on the news which we were listening to for some reason they were talking about how mat n i ditched the project and that mark finished it out on his own, but also how mark's style was like... weird now. he wasn't himself anymore. abt him wearing a weird outfit or a new vid showing multiple people all in the same outfit.

the weird outfit described was somehow the one in the semicircleish platformin space and mat n i knew we were fucked fucked tbh. so we managed to platform the van to the top somehow to try and leave, but of the 2 exits we tried there were shadowy shapes with glowin white eyes on the other side, so we just. went to the middle platform by activating jets? or flying? on the van and just. sitting there.

i didnt wake up @ this point (something something ian hecox revisiting old videos? fnaf gameplay i think? but like knockoff fnaf. starting screen had bright blue? or yellow? unsure). when i did wake up i was kinda. urgh. didnt rly know what ti do other than write it all down. definitely one of my clearer dreams ive had recently (tho the scary ones usually are tbh). i cant rly express just how fucked up the whole situation was, n i wonder how long that family had just been. there. waiting for someone to stay long enough to teach them. so that they could go out to hunt while blending in.

sorry markiplier for leaving you for dead. it wasnt on purpose. i was scared af in the dream n matpat wasnt slowing down for you either. also tbh you were basically already dead anyway, like thee was No way we were gettin u to a hospital on time. still sorry tho.

[michaels-wifi]

DUNE MESSIAH

log entry:

Farok- 

Scytale-

Irulan- 

Edric- 

5/15/23 - It would seems like when you are in any position in power you are always going to have people who wanna see you destroyed. Scytale, Mohiam, Irulan, and Edric planning to overthrow Paul. 

I am not understanding how they arent being figured out... they said that Edric is the reason why Paul cant see them plotting against him because of something? I might have it wrong. SO far I havnt noticed or read anything bad about Paul. The conspiracy is trying to make their own Muad Diab so they can control it.. because Paul is the head guy and they have no power over him.. they see that as a problem. 

Dam... power. Power to get what ever you want. Love, money, sex, higher positions... just things going your way all the time. 

Chani.. I love her character. I am in love with her. The way she is being described in the book.. what more can a man ask for in a woman? Someone who compliments the other... (i dont know if that makes sense). 

pg 57 “ He has trees in there, you know- trees from many worlds”. ( I would love to possess many trees from different worlds one day. 

5/20/23: I still feel like I need to get better and reading deeper into these books but I try to get something out of the book and take it with me. I am enjoying this book aswell... the first was is still my favorite but the second book.. I cant hate on it. Its Good!

page 78 Paul noticing and telling everyone that he has limitations aswell is pretty cool. The most powerful “being” in the universe says “ I have limitations”

Idk that kinda remind me that Paul started off as a human being and you kinda remmber that he is still a human. 

-New word: Martyr: someone that dies for their religion/beliefs. 

Pg 81: I think this passage was very interesting and for some reason it relates in a way... something about “He tried to force himself into tranquility of many balances where he might shape a new future” 

Something about that line hits; Its hard to explain but it makes 80% sense but articulating feels very very difficult (also trying to articulating it...I dont know something says dont try.. or Ill ruin.. something)

(_ something also about being vulnerable and staying open; “my cup is never full” -keep filling up my cup). _

5/26/23

Presience 

[heavyhitterheaux]

Dirty Little Secret Part 2

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: I’m backkkkkkkk 😘💖

Synopsis: You and Curse have become closer and Urban couldn't be happier. But when a "secret" is revealed that she wasn't aware of, she reveals a secret of yours that she knows would hurt you right back

(Same synopsis as part 1 because some of this is told from her point of view)

Pairing: Urban Wyatt x @softtcurse​ , Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Thank you to my sister wives for all of their help with this 😘

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After spending the entire day with you, the two of you were currently helping each other get ready to go out to dinner with the rest of PG. Curse was currently doing Y/N’s make-up when she looked up at her and gave her a small smile.

"I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I'm happy that there is now another girl around. The testosterone was starting to be a bit much for me." Y/N said as Curse began applying the perfect shade of eyeshadow that would match her dress. She had already seen it beforehand since they had found the perfect one in a small boutique not too far from the hotel. 

“I appreciate how all of you have embraced me because I was definitely nervous. Especially since I know how close all of you are and have known each other for years.”

“Urban definitely found something special when it comes to you and I’m happy that my best friend is happy.”

“I’ll be honest, I was intimidated as shit when he first brought me around you.” Curse said while looking down at you and you sighed.

“Girl, why? People have this idea in their head that I’m like so mean when it’s the complete opposite. I guess it just stems from me being overprotective about them and vice versa. But I am such a caring and loving person that will do anything for people, especially them.”

“Since I was around everyone else first, they always spoke so highly of you, I guess because I knew it was a big deal to Urban to get your approval. I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”

“That I can understand seeing how things have happened in the past. But, I’m really trying to be better. I never want it to get to a point like that again where he feels as if he has to hide something from me. I’ll love him regardless and I thought he knew that. I tell him and Jack all the time, whatever it is we’ll work through it.”

“He does and that really was a difficult time. You know I actually threatened him to call you one day.”

“He kind of told me about it that day that we kinda made up, but didn’t really go into any details.”

“I said that this needed to end and Jack should have kicked his ass with how disrespectful he was being towards you.”

“He was hurt, Curse. And I admit that I do have to be better about getting out of my own head. I guess it’s because I just… they know that I will do anything for them and I do want them to be happy.”

“And that’s fine, and I know that they will do the same for you, but, you have focused on them long enough and it’s your turn for your career to blossom into what you want it to be. They’ll always be there for you but don’t you think it’s time to pay more attention to you? I know Jack wants you to, but keep in mind you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Wait, what?”

“I kinda overheard him and Urban yesterday and he mentioned that he is so proud of you, but just wants you to focus on yourself more. He was like ‘I don’t want her to look at it as if I don’t need her anymore, because I always will. I just want her to have all that I have too.”

“That’s such a Jack thing to say. I love that man and can’t put into words how much I do.”

“And it’s the same way for him. I admire what you two have. Despite everything that might be going on around you and the fact that people have tried your marriage, been disrespectful, tried to break yall up, yall never faltered.”

“Thank you and stop because I’m about to cry. Like he’s it for me and neither of us would let someone ruin what we have.”

“And everyone can see that.” Curse said putting the final touches on Y/N’s makeup.

“Okay, all done! Let’s get dressed because you know that they’re probably all screaming that we’re taking too long.”

And just then the two of them heard Jack’s voice.

“BABYYYYYYYY!!!! YOU AND YASMIN ARE GOING TO MAKE US LATE…..AGAIN!”

“WE’RE COMING SMUSH! BE PATIENT!”

Once Curse had gotten to her shared room with Urban, she took out her phone to scroll through instagram while the water was heating up for her shower. That’s when she saw a picture of Y/N that she hadn’t come across before on her explore page and quickly clicked it.

However, when she went to the comment section to leave one, she got a lot more than she bargained for.

Curse then did a double-take with not believing what she had just saw.

(This is under the Someone Very Important instagram au)

So, Y/N and her current boyfriend who is also Y/N’s best friend has had sex before? And apparently no one was going to tell her?

Looking at the time she saw that she needed to stop scrolling on her phone and continue to get ready to be downstairs in a decent amount of time.

She would deal with them later,

Both of them.

Curse had been quiet ever since she made her way downstairs to the lobby of the hotel with Urban and could see that Y/N kept eyeing her and she looked genuinely concerned. Meanwhile, Curse’s blood was boiling every time she glanced up at her and they made eye contact.

Curse thought to herself that she was so fucking full of it.

Sitting there smiling in her face when deep down she knew what she did, and truth be told she was probably still doing it ever since she and Urban got together. She should have known better to not put anything past Y/N  considering her track record with Urban and his relationships. It seemed as if Y/N wanted her husband and her best friend too all to herself and it looked as if Urban was gladly going along for the ride. If he was doing anything behind her back, what was she even there for? He should have just stayed single if he wanted to continue to fuck his best friend who also happened to be married to his other best friend.

She honestly wouldn’t put it past you to cheat on Jack at this point. 

“Curse, are you okay? You just seem a little quiet all of a sudden.” Y/N asked as everyone was  now all gathered around the table with Curse sitting directly across from her. Everyone had started to notice that something was off. 

“You really do have some nerve. Smiling all in my face and acting like you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Y/N replied back to Curse clearly confused.

“Yasmin, what are you even talking about?” Jack also asked, confused as he stole a bite of food off Y/N’s plate.

“Seriously? Okay um, let’s see. Y/N, when was I going to find out that you fucked my man?”

“Oh shit.”

“Wait, Urban never told you?” Y/N quietly asked. Even though there weren't a lot of people at the surrounding tables, Curse didn’t even care at this point if they heard the conversation. She planned on airing all of this shit out. 

Now Urban was looking like a deer caught in headlights and all eyes were now on him.

“Obviously not, but it doesn’t surprise me. You have to have everything for your fucking self.”

“Now, let me stop you right there. It happened before he even met you and I was always there.” Jack said while jumping in to defend his wife..

“You sure about that Jack?” Curse threw back while crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Are you accusing my wife of cheating on me?”

“Well, she’ll do anything to get what she wants right?”

“Are you serious? I would never cheat on my husband and he obviously had to approve for it to happen anyway.”

“Okay this is a little awkward now.” Neelam said while looking between the both of them.

“And it’s the fact that all of you knew and didn’t say anything.”

“First of all, it wasn’t our place to say anything. It’s a running joke between us, however, that was your boyfriend’s responsibility. You aren’t going to sit up here and come for Jack and Y/N because of something that happened before you were even in the picture.” 2fo piped up not wanting to hear the slander against his best friends any longer.

“Wait, how did you find out anyway if Urban didn’t tell you?” Quiiso inquired because everyone was confused about that part.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out, it matters that the situation is something that should have been shared with me.”

“All this heat needs to be directed at the person sitting next to you who hasn’t said a damn thing this entire time.”

“So, what you so quiet for? Did you want to continue to fuck her?”

“YASMIN!”

“Nah, answer me. Because right now it looks like you do.”

“No, I’m with you so….?”

“And that’s supposed to mean something? Well I guess since secrets are being revealed, how about Y/N shares that since she had a miscarriage that she’s scared that she won't be able to have any kids and that her husband won't want to be with her anymore."

"Oh shit."

"Yasmin!" Y/N exclaimed while everyone was sharing nervous glances at the table.

Jack was trying to come to terms with believing that she would say that out loud and looked up at her in disbelief..

"Doesn't feel too good does it huh? You know what you were probably only being nice to me to get back on Urban's good side. People have told me that you really are a bitch and can never see anyone happy but yourself with your no talent having ass."

"Now wait a minute!" Urban said, trying to interrupt her, but she wasn’t backing down.

"Nah, Yasmin that was outta pocket and uncalled for." Ace piped up and looked over at her.

"I thought he had told you! How is he not telling you my fault? And why the fuck would you say that!? I only told you and no one else knew besides Jack. I trusted you!" Y/N said as her eyes began to water. But the tears weren’t going to get her any sympathy from her. 

"Well you fucked Urban so I figured you would have wanted that to continue and that's why you didn't say anything! And how do we know it wasn’t Urban’s kid anyway?"

"WHAT?! I would never do that! He's with you!"

"Nah, you know what. He was right. You do ruin every single relationship that he's been in and you might as well add this one to your list."

She knew that would break her and she succeeded when she saw the look on her face. 

“This stops right now, we’re done with this. You aren’t going to sit up here and disrespect not only my wife, but me too.” 

Y/N immediately got up from the table with Jack right behind her leaving everyone to think about what had just happened in front of them. 

“Yasmin, that was low.” Neelam quietly said while looking over at her.

“What’s low is me having to find out on social media that my boyfriend fucked his best friend.”

“So, you can sit up here and yell at her and reveal secrets that she only told you but you need to have that same energy for your boyfriend.”

Urban was still sitting there quietly not knowing what to do.

“And Urb? You didn’t even defend your best friend so what the hell is wrong with you? She would go to fucking war for you and you’re just going to let Yasmin bash her? Someone you’ve known for ten years?” Now Shloob was annoyed and looked over at Urban in disbelief.

“I-... I should have told you and I’m sorry for that. But…. fuck…I didn’t think it mattered! It hadn’t happened since we first started talking!”

“Didn’t think it mattered?! The three of you fucking deserve each other.”

—

Curse and Urban were now back in their shared hotel room with her shooting daggers at him. After the blow-up at dinner, everything had just been awkward. No one knew what to say or do regarding her basically airing out all of Y/N’s business and apparently not caring.

“Yasmin, can we please talk about this?” Urban asked, pleading with her as she began to slip off her shoes.

“What is there to talk about? You fucked her and didn’t tell me.”

“I apologize for that and I admit that I should have. But it hasn’t happened since I asked you to be my girlfriend. I would never do that to you or put you in that type of situation.”

“You should have just been honest from the beginning.”

“Honestly, would that have made a difference?”

“I think it would have. I want a relationship built on trust, Urban. This was not a good example of that.”

“I don’t. But I can promise you that it happened before I even met you. I’ve literally told you about everything else and have been honest.”

“It seems like she has to have everything and that no one else can win around her. You should have told me if you were going to bring me around her all the damn time!”

“I get that, I really do and I take full responsibility for it. Now let me stop you right there. You’re my girlfriend, but she’s been my best friend for ten years and I can’t even begin to tell you how much she does for me and all of PG. She has to be the most unselfish person that I know and always makes sure that everyone else around her is good before herself. So the fact that you now called her untalented, said she does ruin every relationship I’ve been in after we were now kind of getting back to how we were before and revealed she had a miscarriage that literally none of us knew about? You want to know what she texted me last night?”

“Her nudes?”

“Cut the shit, Yasmin. She sent me a text saying she saw how much happier I was ever since being with you since she’s known about it and she can see it. She really was taking the time to get to know you not just because of me because she genuinely wanted to. She likes having you around. Why didn’t you just come and ask me instead of basically attacking her off-guard in front of everyone? So, how would you feel if someone did that to you? Like, that’s a big ass secret that you just aired out. And the fact that she told you before she even told me? That says something because she literally tells me everything. She trusts you or now trusted you, I guess and she obviously doesn't do that with a lot of people.”

“Think about how it looks from my point of view. Obviously if I see something like that, I’m going to assume the absolute worst and that you would rather have me and whoever else on the side. Thinking about it now, I probably shouldn’t have said that outloud or accused her of cheating on Jack, but that hurt me, you weren’t honest with me and it makes me think what else that you could possibly be hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything!”

Curse was quiet and just stared at Urban.

“Now, both of my best friends are probably mad as shit with me on top of you being mad at me too.”

“I legit should leave your ass over this.” Curse quietly muttered while breaking eye contact with Urban.

“Are you serious right now?!”

“Obviously I am because why else would I say it?!”

“I just want for the two of you to get along because you’re both important to me. And you know how I was during the time that we weren’t talking.”

“Yeah, I guess she is important since you were her little fuck toy.”

“Look… I… what can I do to make this better?”

“The damage is done and there is no coming back from it. I should kick you in your fucking throat for saying that you didn’t think it mattered. She’s your best friend AND the two of you have had sex multiple times. You brought me around her and didn’t think to disclose that information?!”

“There has to be something that I can do, Yasmin, please.”

“Is there anything else that has happened between the two of you that I should know about? A relationship maybe?”

Urban sighed before sitting down next to her and figured that it was now or never. 

“There’s a sex tape with all three of us on it and then there’s one where it was just the two of them and I recorded it. Jack wanted a video of her since he was about to go on tour and she wouldn’t be able to stay the entire time. That’s when she thought of the idea and of course before she even asked me, she had to ask him. No relationship ever took place. I was serious when I meant she’s my best friend.  Y/N and Jack have been together since we were all 15 and she doesn’t glance anyone else’s way. He is it for her. Jack was always there when it happened. There’s no way in the world I would do that to him and break his trust.”

Damn.

Urban looked over at her to see that she had suddenly gone quiet and was now taking everything in and trying to process it. A few minutes had passed before he heard her voice again. 

“But it was okay to break mine?” She barely said above a whisper. 

“No, it wasn’t. And I admit my fault in all of that. Can we just start over? I know that was a lot to take in and I really have no excuse as to why I didn’t tell you before.”

Yasmin sighed and was quiet for a few minutes before giving Urban a definite answer.

“If I say yes and something else gets revealed that I didn’t know about, then it’s literally over between us and don’t even bother asking for me to take you back.”

“That’s fair. I can imagine all that I told you was hard to hear so I’ll delete the sex tape that has the three of us in it and ask for them to delete it too.”

Once Yasmin and Urban had finished talking, he decided to send a message in the group chat to Jack and Y/N to see if they would bother to give him the time of day.

Urban- First, I need to apologize to the both of you. I admit that I was wrong and I should have told her from the beginning

A few seconds had passed and it showed where Jack had read it and was typing his response, but it went on for so long that it seemed like he would start writing something and would then erase it. 

Urban- You can yell at me all you want, I know that I deserve it at this point

That was when Jack had sent him a text separately so that Y/N wouldn’t see it. 

Jack- I should kick your ass for what you did or should I say didn’t do. This entire time I thought that you told her what had happened. 

Urban- I know I should have

Jack- Y/N hasn’t stopped crying since that shit happened and I legit don’t even know what to do at this point. Like, why the fuck would she say something like that?

Urban- The only explanation is her being hurt by everything that happened

Jack- And that shit should have been directed at you and not Y/N or me who was fucking blindsided by it. She mentioned to me how she told her because she felt as if she could trust her and you two still weren’t on the best of terms so she didn’t want to go to you about it

That definitely hurt Urban seeing that Y/N felt that she couldn’t come to him about something as important as that. 

Urban- Just let me talk to Y/N so I can fix this

Jack- Nah, you can fuck all the way off with that shit. Just leave her alone and let her be. She’ll talk to you when she wants to. You’ve done enough for tonight.

The next day was extremely awkward to say the least. No one wanted to acknowledge the elephant in the room and small talk between Jack and PG seemed like it was forced. Jack had been quiet the entire day and would only speak when someone asked him a question about something. It wasn’t until 2fo cornered him when they were away from anyone else to see how he was feeling.

“I… I don’t even know how to begin to ask about this because I know both you and Y/N are far from okay.”

All Jack could do was sigh as he looked over at him.

“What they did was fucked up and… look we’re here for the both of you and I know that you know that. Anything that we can do to help just tell us.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Where is she anyway?”

“She cried herself to sleep after I don’t know how many hours so I just let her rest. I know that Urban is the last person that she wants to see right now. I just told him to give her space and that she’ll talk to him once she’s ready to.I just checked on her and she said she was watching Netflix on her iPad.”

“Did you have any names picked out yet?” Shloob quietly asked as he came up beside 2fo.

“Not yet, but we knew it was a girl. Y/N was so excited when she found out and just to have it taken away from you just like that? She tried to drown herself by going to the studio and working, but I wouldn’t let her. I was like the most important thing and the best thing that she could do for herself at this point was to rest. That was hard for her to hear because she didn’t want to deal with it. She didn’t want to deal with it because if she did, then she knew that it was real.”

“It seems like everything is coming at her all at once.” Ace added finally joining the conversation.

“It is and I’m at a loss and don’t know what to do.” Jack honestly answered. He was frustrated because the last thing he wanted to see was his wife hurting.

“Best thing that you can do right now is support her and be there for her. And we’re going to do the same for the both of you.”

Y/N heard a quiet knock on the door and pulled the comforter away from her body. The most she did today was take a shower and get right back in the bed. She didn’t know how long she spent the night before crying with Jack trying to comfort her, but she knew that she needed to have a day to herself. She didn’t even hear Jack leave in order to go to soundcheck.

She stood on her tiptoes to see that it was Quiiso who also had a cup in his hand which she assumed was a milkshake. Any time she had a bad day, he would immediately bring her one or he would make sure if he wasn’t around her that one got to her before the day was over. There have been times when she was overseas and he would order it to have it delivered to her hotel room. Milkshakes were their thing.

She opened the door and Quiiso gave her a small smile.

“I figured that you could definitely use this today.”

All Y/N could do was eagerly nod her head as tears began to form in her eyes and fall down her cheeks. 

Without a second thought, Quiiso embraced her and she tightly hugged him back. She moved to the side to let him in and so he could hand her the milkshake. It was quiet for a few minutes as they sat next to each other before Quiiso decided to break the silence.

“So Neelam and PG got this for you and Jack.” Quiiso handed her a card which had a message along the lines of ‘sorry for the loss of your baby.’

“I looked up how people actually want for it to be acknowledged when it happens and we thought that this was the best way to go about it. We’re always going to be here for the both of you and we wanted for you both to know that.”

“I appreciate all of you so much. This means a lot to me. Whenever I do get pregnant again, I know for a fact that they are going to have the best possible tribe surrounding them.”

“We’ve been doing this thing for ten years and we’re not stopping any time soon. So any time you need to talk, vent, cry, scream. You know where to find us.”

“I just…. I can’t even put into words how mad I am at Urban. Well not mad, that’s not the right word. Maybe disappointed?”

“Trust and believe that we are too and he had some choice words from us last night in the group chat. I think to the point where he silenced his notifications.”

“I need to give it some time. I can’t deal with that right now and I want to talk to him when I have a clear head and I’m not running high off my emotions.”

“And that’s fair.”

“I just still can’t believe she would say that out loud even if she was mad at me. When people tell me secrets, even if we end up falling out, I’m never going to repeat them.”

Jack had about three hours to go until he hit the stage and was simply watching Netflix with you when he got a text.

Curse- Hey, Jack. I know that you’re mad at me and you have reason to be. I just want to talk so that I can apologize to you and Y/N. 

Read at 6:23 PM 

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[lorenzosmicropp]

Elena yr a star u understand me perfectly !!! That is exactly how I am feeling atm and I could not convey it better than you did <33

[solitae]

Ortus and his apology to Harrow in HtN hits my heart every time I read it. It’s rare to see apologies from adults to an abused child done so well, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I needed to talk about it, and it got kinda long, so under the cut it goes.

(Referring to pg 400, 401 in the Kindle e-book)

-------

Ortus starts by saying he is sorry, and then he gets specific:

“I am sorry that I was no kind of cavalier to you. I was so much older, and too selfish to take responsibility, and too affrighted by the idea of doing anything difficult or painful. I was weak because weakness is easy, and because rebuff is hard.”

Explanations, but no excuses here. I completely respect him acknowledging his fear and selfishness, his own weakness. It’s such a difficult thing to do. Him naming it to Harrow puts him in a vulnerable position with someone who does not have much of a history of kindness with him, but it is the truth of what happened. In a book that has been full of lies and people questioning Harrow’s perception of reality, including Harrow herself, this is a moment of absolute clarity.

Then he acknowledges what he could have done differently:

“I should have known there was really nobody left ... I should have seen the cruelty in what Crux and Aiglamene encouraged you to bear.”

“I should have offered help. I should have died for you. Gideon should still be alive. I was, and am, a grown man, and you both were neglected children.”

Ortus has pretty plausible deniability when it comes to Harrow’s parents, and Harrow herself tried to keep it secret that they were dead. But it’s so important that Ortus doesn’t fall back on this here. He doesn’t say that there is no way he could have known. He doesn’t cover this with his own grief over his father or fear of upsetting his mother. He just owns that he failed to help these two kids who needed an adult to take responsibility.

An important point: he does not ask for Harrow’s forgiveness, because this isn’t about whether Harrow can forgive him. It’s about Ortus owning his own failure to act. What Harrow decides to do with it is up to her.

In this final moment, he stays to fight with her. He decides to make a different choice. He cannot fix what happened before. He cannot bring Gideon back, but he can stand and fight with Harrow in his own way. He commits himself to change, so his apology is meaningful.

All of this completely undoes Harrow. No one from the Ninth ever apologized for what was asked of her. With Ortus, it’s true and honest, and Ortus saw how much all of this harmed Harrow in a way that no one else did.

All of this resonates with me. I might not be a necromancer in a dying house, but I grew up in a fucked up situation, and the healthiest thing I could do was break contact. No one ever owned up to the shit that happened to me, and I got gaslit and challenged about my perceptions of reality constantly rather than the adults around me trying to understand. I’ve always thought I might talk to them if I got a real apology, but I gave up on that happening a long time ago.

I doubt I’ll ever get one from the people that hurt me, but the fact that Muir wrote this apology from an adult character to an abused kid is immensely healing for me.

This is what that could look like. And it makes me cry every time I read it.

[gukyi]

the art of the rom-com | jjk

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

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as you can pick your teammate. 

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

Shit. 

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

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

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

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

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

Right above is your response to his comment. 

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

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

Your fists tighten by your side. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

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

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

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

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

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

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

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

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

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

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

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

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

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

Jungkook: miss you already <3

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

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

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

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

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

In a way, you suppose it kind of is. 

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

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

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

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

Well, she’s got you there. 

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

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

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

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

Dear Professor Pollack,

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

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I can’t change partners?”

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

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

“That’s life,” she corrects. 

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

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

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

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

“You’ll find a way.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

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

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

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

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

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

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

Yeah, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“We’ll be the stars.”

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Of what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you in?”

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

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

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

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

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

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

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

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

You smile up at him. 

“I guess we will.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Either.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say that about everything.”

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

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

And you? 

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

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

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

“No reason,” you say, looking away. 

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes. 

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

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

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

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

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

Hopefully not. 

“Sort of?”

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

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

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

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you?”

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

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

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

Can’t you?

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

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

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great,” you deadpan. 

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

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

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

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

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says. 

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

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

You don’t like the sound of that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you explain what you mean by that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.” 

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

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

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

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

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

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

You shake your head back at him. 

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

It’s strange. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? About what?”

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

“Us?”

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

If he says so. 

“Hey! Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments. 

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

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

“Do you really need to do that here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talki—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” Jungkook says. 

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

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

“I appreciate it,” you say. 

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

Like you even have a choice. 

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

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

It smells like him. 

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

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

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?” You prompt. 

“Promise.”

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

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

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

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

“So,” Jungkook echoes. 

Silence. 

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

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

“We already know each other.” You frown.

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

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

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

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

“Red,” Jungkook responds. 

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

“What about you?”

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

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

“This project is different,” you insist. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…” 

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And let me love you, baby…”

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

“Let me love you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was that, Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re alright.”

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

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn. 

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

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

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

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

Then, you take a seat right next to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

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

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

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

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

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

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

“Thank God,” you mutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up. 

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

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

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

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

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

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

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for coming.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”

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

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

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

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

“Well, how do you think about it?”

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

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

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?”

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

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

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film. 

Jungkook grins your way. 

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

“How about we hold hands, too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excellent.”

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

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

It’s new. 

It’s strange. 

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

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

You wonder what that means. 

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

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

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

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says. 

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

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

“Magical.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

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

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer. 

“How are you feeling about him?”

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

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

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

“In a good or bad way?”

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

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

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

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

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

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up. 

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

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

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

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

Taehyung sighs.

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

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

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

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

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

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

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

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

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

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

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

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

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

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

Jungkook: always such a tease

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, please don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

He’s never been able to resist you. 

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the curiosity is eating at him. 

“Forget what?”

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

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

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

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

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You can say something,” you tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost does it. 

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

But he doesn’t. 

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

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

It’s good enough for him. 

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

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

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

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy. 

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

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

Jungkook grins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook walked me home?”

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

“No,” you say dumbly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything else, Mom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that means a lot to you. 

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

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

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

He grins. 

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How generous of you.”

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

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

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

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

Jungkook likes the sound of that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, the project?”

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

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

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

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

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This.”

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

But he need not worry about that. 

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

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

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

“You scored,” you remind him.

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

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

“Never.” He smiles wickedly. 

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You send him one back without even needing to think. 

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

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

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

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

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod. 

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

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

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

“Always,” you say.

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

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

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

“How gentlemanly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

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

“You both seem very happy.”

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

“Jungkook?”

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

“Are you glad you did this project?”

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

“You seem really certain about that.”

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

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

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

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

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

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

“Who, me?”

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

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pollack!”

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

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

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

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

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously. 

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out. 

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand. 

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you. 

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix. 

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit. 

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night. 

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons. 

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers. 

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play. 

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself. 

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right. 

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him. 

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice. 

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you. 

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real. 

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place. 

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either. 

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over. 

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat. 

The truth is, you were always a goner for him. 

And look how well that played out. 

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight. 

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table. 

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop. 

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good. 

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy. 

Hope. 

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve. 

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much. 

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end. 

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it? 

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door. 

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you. 

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you. 

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful. 

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought. 

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby. 

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now. 

A brand new frame. 

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now. 

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie. 

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back. 

“Yes,” you declare proudly. 

And so, they lived happily ever after. 

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

[babyloposts]

MY HERO DAD-CANNONS

Summary: How my favorite boys would react to their child having a nightmare. Some single dad head cannons because my baby fever is back

Includes: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki, Takami Keigo

Warnings: none, fluff, aged up characters, references to GN parent titles

———————————————————————

Bakugou:

He was up and down the hall as quickly as the first wail left his daughter’s mouth. He was desperately hoping that the screams were not from a villain trying to kidnap her.

He was relieved for only a second as he saw her safely tucked into bed as he left her earlier that night, but the worry came back as he saw her broken out in a cold sweat.

Careful not to startle her awake Katsuki rubbed her forehead gingerly removing the sweat and bangs from its place matted on the top of her head.

“Kid. Wake up.” His tone soft. The one he reserved only for her.

“Daddy?” Her brows furrowed and her eyelashes fluttered open to see a stoic yet comforting face.

“You okay? I think you were having a nightmare. Scared the hell out of me.” He chuckled, still soothing her as her breathing slowed.

“M-me too. I was so scared Dad. The monsters were trying to get me.”

“What monsters?” Katsuki feared the worst. What if she had seen a villain and they knew she was his kid. That could mean she was being watched and in danger. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

“From the movie dad. The one I watched when hanging out with the Midoriya’s.” Bakugou’s face scrunched and his daughter winced in fear of being in trouble for watching a PG-13 movie.

“What’d I tell you about watching scary movies with Deku’s kid. Now look at you all scared with nightmares.” Bakugou scolded, but his expression softened. He was just glad she was safe.

“I’m sorry Dad. I won’t watch scary movies anymore. I don’t want any monsters to get me.”

“It’s okay. I promise I won’t let any monsters get you. They have to go through me first, alright squirt.” She nodded and gave Bakugou a small smile, knowing she was safe and in the most capable hands of the #2 hero.

Bakugou smoothed her hair back and placed a kiss to her forehead. “Love you squirt. Sweet Dreams.”

“I love you too Dad.”

———————————————————————

Midoriya:

Izuku is no stranger to weird dreams, but he had never expected his One for All induced visions to transfer to his daughter as well.

He wouldn’t even know if she hadn’t been weeping by his bedside at one in the morning.

“D-daddy.” A small voice warbled out next to Midoriya. His eyes shot open not expecting to see a teary eyed five year old only a few inches away from his face.

“What’s wrong Bubby?” Izuku quickly sat up in bed and moved to the edge of the bed, scooping the crying child into his arms.

“I had a bad dream.” She whimpered as he wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Aww I’m sorry.” He hugged her tightly to his chest rocking slightly to soothe her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded slightly before starting. “I was so scared Daddy. You were there and somebody—a bad man—stole your quirk away from you. He was too strong. And nobody would help you. Not even All Might. And I was too little to help you, Daddy and I’m so sorry.” And just like that the tears were flowing from her tear ducts again.

Izuku shushed her and started back trying to soothe her again. “Don’t worry, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” He brought his daughter back to her bedroom and tucked her into her Princess themed bed. “Are you comfy?” She asked and she nodded.

Izuku gave her a kiss to her temple before getting up to move to a bookshelf on the far side of the room. “Would you like to hear a story?” She nodded and Izuku climbed into the side of the bed and wrapped his arm around her.

Midoriya read the story book to her that were more kiddie versions of some of All Might’s best missions (even in fatherhood he was a total fanboy).

His daughter was knocked before he was even halfway through the book, the tales of heroism and safety lulling her into a peaceful sleep. Although she was peaceful and very cute Izuku had realized his grave mistake far too late.

His daughter was the lightest sleeper he knew. It would be almost impossible to remove himself from the bed without waking her up.

He tried several times to stand from the bed without causing her to stir, but ultimately failed and gave in to the reality that he’d be spending the night on the edge of a twin bed.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but Izuku would give up anything for his little girl, even the comforts of his own bed, to make her feel safe.

———————————————————————

Kaminari:

It took a lot to get Denki up, which wasn’t always a good thing having such a young child to look after. He was finally awoken by the third kick to his ribs by a little foot in bed.

“Ouch, what the-?” Denki whipped the blanket down to reveal a small body in the fetal position hunched against his side.

“Wha- hey Little Man. What happened? Why aren’t you sleeping in your big kid bed?”

The small boy was unmoving, pretending to be asleep to prevent being bothered or moved from his comfortable position.

“I know you’re not sleep, Buddy. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” Finally Denki’s son’s head poked up from his arm shields and showed off his pouty face.

“I don’t want to sleep in my big kid. It’s too dark and scary in there. I don’t want to have bad dreams.” The child’s eyes started to water.

Denki sighed. “Bud, I thought we agreed that when you turned four you’d stop sleeping in Papa’s bed and sleep by yourself.”

“I don’t want to anymore. I’m scared. It’s too dark and you are too far away.” He whined. Denki knew that he was the age where he needed to start being able to self-soothe and sleep by himself, but he couldn’t deny his son. He was a good kid, maybe with a bit of separation anxiety, but all around he was pretty easy.

Denki’s nanny would probably scold him for babying his son, but he didn’t care. It’s not like Denki liked sleeping alone anyway.

“Bud, you can’t sleep down in the covers like that. You’ll get way too hot.” A small smile spread over Denki’s lips as his son shuffled his way up onto Denki’s chest with his arms wrapped around his neck in a death grip.

Denki chuckled once the grip loosened and rubbed his son’s back as he slipped into sleep. “Can we try sleeping in your big kid bed tomorrow night?” Denki whispered.

“I’ll try Papa, but no promises.” Denki chuckled and closed his eyes in content.

“That’s okay Buddy. I love you.”

“Love you too, Papa.”

———————————————————————

Takami Keigo:

Keigo really hoped that an intruder wasn’t in the house right now. He knew it was irrational to think, but stranger things have happened, plus he was already worked up from the last patrol he went on last night where he fought a surprisingly difficult villain.

Stealthily Kei climbed out of bed and sent a feather flying into the kitchen where the noise was coming from to scope out the intruder.

When he heard a high pitched scream and low thud he was actually more relieved than worried.

He rushed from behind his bedroom door out to see his son sat on the ground in front of the open refrigerator.

“The hell are you doing up? It’s 2 AM!” Keigo whisper yelled to ensure he didn’t bother the neighbors.

“Sorry Dad. I was hungry.”

“What are you still hungry for? You basically ate a whole chicken by yourself for dinner. At this rate keeping up with your eating habits cost more than the rent.” Takami chided, but he couldn’t be too mad, his son was a growing boy and they needed their sustenance.

“I’m sorry Dad. I just woke up and wanted a snack that’s all.” That’s what he said, but the glossiness in his son’s eyes gave him away.

Keigo bent over to pick up the food that had fallen out of the fridge and grab a carton of ice cream out of the freezer along with two spoons. His son watched his father intently as he moved to the kitchen island to sit and patted the stool next to him.

“Come sit down and have your snack.” Keigo sighed. Reluctantly his son sat down beside him and grabbed a spoon scooping into the slightly freezer burnt cookies and cream.

“So tell me what’s really going on. You wouldn’t tear up just from me knocking you on your ass earlier.” His son’s eyes grew wide, surprised that his dad had noticed that small detail.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“I know when you’re lying to me Kid. So just go ahead and tell me.” Kei said wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders.

He took a deep breath before finally caving. “I... I had a dream about Baba. When they died.” Keigo’s usual cocky demeanor faded away and his eyes softened as he recalled the painful memory.

“Wow.” Keigo said as he cleared his throat. “That uh... hasn’t happened for a while. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Dad. I just wished... I don’t know. I just miss them a lot.” He began to tear up again. Keigo sighed. It has been almost seven years since his significant other died tragically from cancer. Their son was just a kid then. What Five year old can really comprehend that and grieve a parent properly. Since then Kei’s been doing his best as a single Dad, but maybe he should have talked about them more.

“I know you miss them Kid. I do too. I miss them everyday, but you remind me of them. You’ve got the same face and spirit they had, so it’s like a little piece of ‘em is always with us. They’re in you.” Keigo’s grip tightened around his son’s shoulder and he left a comforting rub up and down his forearm.

“I know sayin all this isn’t going to bring them back, but just know they’re always in your heart and they loved you very much.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“No problem Kid. Just finish your ice cream and get to bed. I don’t want you late for school in the morning.”

His son nodded. Keigo stood from the island and ruffled the hair of his son before depositing his dirty spoon in the sink. Before he made it all the way to his bedroom a voice rang out behind him.

“I love you Dad.”

Keigo smiled softly. “Love you too Kid.”

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye VI — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

Coffee was not the only thing bitter this morning. An irritating three hours ago, Yoongi had been wrapping the final works of the—at least what he and everyone else in his team considered—a successful raid. Fourteen hours achingly squeezed through the exhaustion in his veins to bust this den and it was a popular one at that. Around ten dealers were arrested that night.

Only two got actual jail time. The only reason was because they both had companions with them that night under the age of eighteen and one of them was the culprit for a former models’ murder.

Other than that, the den was closed down to keep up appearances. Most of the dealers had the infamous phoenix tattoo to symbolize exactly who they were working for. However did they get enough proof to finally expose Jeon Jungkook?

Not a fucking chance.

He dragged himself into the precinct with a heavy head and tar-like coffee in his hand before slouching onto his chair. A sweet pile of files on his right which were happily ignored. Yoongi could also painfully notice that Namjoon was desperately trying not to ask him about the raid even though every twitch in his eye wanted otherwise.

Darkened and deep set eyes shot a slight glare at the younger male. “Go on.” He rasped.

Namjoon looked almost a little innocent with his huge glasses on staring at him like he was not so deathly obvious about his curiosity. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to so get it over with so you can cover for me while I take a fucking nap.” The older male patted the pile of files which was now going to the others’ responsibility solely because Yoongi had information Namjoon could not gain. If he could even call it decent information.

Clearing his throat, he leaned in closer resting his elbows on the table and forgetting whatever he was working at the computer. “What happened?” He whispered more enthusiastically now.

“Everything and nothing.” Yoongi seethed, anger burning through the unwavering heaviness of his body. “We checked all the stages. Did everything we needed to do and got more fucking eye witnesses than any task force has ever done. Except our captain decided it was the perfect time to act like a damn saint by letting most of them go on fucking technicalities.” Fingers curled up into tight fists just retelling the whole story. So much work had been placed to take this den down and for what? Sleepless nights and back to the square one?

His heart leaped a little for once hearing someone else verbalize the captains’ clear goal to ensure that Jungkook was never exposed again. “You know why they do it, right?”

The older male shook his head with a light stammer. Yoongi was the one who trained Namjoon in the field which was the only reason why he was assigned to be his partner over anyone else. He could always keep him in line. But now he worried whether there might be a dark truth laced in all his words. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves.” He muttered under his breath before taking a sip of his coffee.

Namjoon let out a small sigh of defeat glancing over at the precinct around them. It took any person with common sense to notice a few who were drowning their insides with coffee to stay awake after a failed raid. A small part almost felt relieved that others now knew the things he went through after his failed undercover mission. That knowledge something was wrong but you could not do anything about it. The curse of being part of a system which Jungkook already ruled since birth. “What can we do then?” He asked more to himself than the other.

“Yoongi…” Tapping of footsteps broke their conversation for a minute as one of the detectives, Minnie walked to their desks. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.” Her eyes flickered to the two men who stared at her in utter confusion.

The dark haired male peered at the woman through his fringe already noticing Namjoon stiffen at the sight of the detective. “What now? I’m not really in the mood for more disappointment.” Yoongi leaned back and tolerated the little glare the younger male gave him for speaking to Minnie in that manner.

“You’ll want to hear this. It’s a message from the big chair.” She muttered before turning on her heel to walk out of the building.

Namjoon immediately gave Yoongi a pleading look to go follow her, thighs bouncing in place out of his curiosity.

Yoongi kissed his teeth before averting his gaze in annoyance. “I’m too old for this shit.” He got up from the chair with his cooling coffee.

“You’re a year older than me.” His brows furrowed.

“I meant mentally.”

Out in the spring like air of the smoking zone, Minnie hugged a brown envelope as the two men walked out eying her in pure puzzle. Her nose flushed without her jacket but the nerves that built up in her body made it difficult to care. “I don’t know why they gave to me.” She shook her head. “I thought I was let off from this but—” The woman handed them the brown envelope.

Yoongis’ forehead remained permanently knitted as he accepted the envelope as Namjoon took his coffee from him carefully. He pulled out one single piece of paper. A hand-written letter.

‘I am fully aware of Mr. Jeons’ actions under the blanket of extortion and public sympathy. The raid was planned to be a publicity stunt to impress me somehow but I have been observing this world for as long as I can remember. The police force vows on survival. They want to protect their children from being taken, wives from being defiled. It’s every man and woman for themselves in front of this power. Unfortunately this means we must play the same game of deceit and secrecy to truly achieve the victory we all want.

Hence this letter to you. Gather a small team that you can rely your life on for this mission. There will be materials and sources given to you throughout the month and I suggest you find a dispassionate body whom you can trust to slither into the enemy crowds. There we shall begin the first careful steps to our goal.

Burn this letter as soon as it is read.

May God be with you.’

“Fucking Christ.” Yoongi whispered re-reading the letter ten times before finally understanding the sudden weight dropping on his head. The signature did not lie either. He had seen that so many times in recent weeks it was engraved in his mind at this point.

Minnie shook her head again, a mixture of fear and concern reflecting in her eyes. “I didn’t know who else to trust.” Gaze flickered from Yoongi and Namjoon who still were not able to formulate any kind of proper response. “I’ve already been to the rings undercover, I won’t be able to risk it. Namjoon got too close as well.”

Namjoon swallowed the small lump in his throat at the mere memory of his time deep inside the Jeon Cartel. As much as he wanted the glory of walking back to that place to make things right. It was too much risk. This time they were going against all the usual protocol that ever existed.

Only person left was one who had not truly been seen on the inside was—

“You’re shitting me.” Yoongi sighed out the words. He understood the stakes of spreading this information to far too many people. In fact even the man himself could not name anyone who could be more trustworthy than Namjoon and Minnie. Most of the precinct were hell bent on bruising their knees for the captain while some others preferred the older mayor. It was an unbreakable web of lies and unfair distribution.

“Sorry, Yoongi.” Minnie muttered.

“You did the right thing.” Namjoon quickly interjected. “Anyone else would’ve just shown this to the captain.” He nodded towards the letter.

Without another response, Yoongi pulled out his black lighter and flicked to expose the small flame. His eyes fixated on the bright shade of yellow a little dulled out from the daylight before touching the edge of the paper. He kept a hold of it until it was absolutely ensured that the erupting fire devoured every words. Throwing it in the bin, he sighed deeply when he stared at the two youngers. Whatever tired looseness his body adorned a while ago now faded away with a new anxiety. Not really anxiety but a concern. The results of their last raid did not exactly boost his self-esteem in being able to achieve a large feat. Digging his hands into his pockets, cool wind flowed through his black shirt making him shiver a little. “When do they want us to start?”

Minnie looked around for a moment; more a sign of precaution but a lot of the precinct would be stuck inside the building or on patrol. “There is an inside source who’s been working with the mayor for a few years now and they say that he’d be able to get you a pathway into the cartel.” She rubbed her arms to give herself some type of warmth from the air that only seemed get colder.

“What kind of a source?” Yoongi squinted his eyes. The mayor was not wrong in saying they were a regular in Jeons’ exposure to the public since they already had a solid source.

“I couldn’t get everything but you need to cut any outside ties this month onwards.”

He scoffed with a smile. “It’s cute you think I have other ties.”

-

A month had gone by before Belle could even take a few breaths. During work hours, it was easy to forget her personal life for several hours and just focus on seams linking with colours, blending into an assortment of something beautiful. Somehow the more perfect her works were the more she felt in control of the world around her.

Boyoung came in and out of the boutique to give her updates on the things that could be done about the cake, flowers or the general décor. Guest list had pretty much been determined by her save for Taehyung and Saito with a slightly awkward explanation of her parents’ death.

Today in the cool day Belle gazed at all the designs for the Sangria House mixed in with Spring Line. She opted to display all the Sangria House dresses towards the end during the fashion show so it could add a showstopper. The lavender one especially caught her eye already imagining Jimin wearing the get-up with some matching jeweled earrings. Dainty fingers brushed across the silk, a softened smile playing on her lips.

“Your first line.” Saitos’ voice broke her out of her little trance. “How does it feel?”

Belle looked over her shoulder to see the woman adorned in a similar lavender pant suit as she padded closer to the displays. “Terrifying.” She breathed out, the corners of her lips twitching up. “It feels like I’m jumping headfirst into cold water.” More like a vast ocean that was so deep that she might drown if she was not careful. Though she would dive into this pool any day.

“Speaking of diving headfirst.” The older woman smirked before the sound of something swishing touched Belle’s ear.

She fully turned around to see Saito hanging a covered outfit on rack before unzipping it down and pulling a pure white piece. A majestic dress bigger than any of the designs they had for the line, multiple georgette layers with slight elegant frills at the ends, a diamond encrusted waist line with a sweetheart neck. The whole piece was simple without any extra glitz and glamour aside from the waist.

“What do you think?”

Belle breathed out a chuckle, eyes not being able to tear away from the dress despite the simple look. “It’s beautiful. What’s this for?” Wide eyes searched the older womans’ expression who merely laughed at the girl.

“Well what else? It’s your wedding dress. If you want anyway.” She shrugged, her gaze now trailing down the long length before fixing the fabric a little so it displayed perfectly. “It’s a little simple I know but if Boyoung told me earlier when the wedding was going to be, I would’ve worked on it a bit more.” Saito spoke about it in such a casual manner.

Little did she realize the jolt of tears flooding in Belle’s eyes when she heard that the other designed and made this whole dress for her. “You made this for me?” She whispered, a small droplet threatening to fall down her cheek.

No one asked Saito to do so nor was she forced to make one either. But the woman did it anyway without any prize in return. She did not ask for her body or her mind as a way to repay her actions. Just an act of kindness.

“Actually I did it so you could do something for me.” She pouted a little before glancing around the boutique longingly. “I can’t have this boutique forever and I’m not exactly getting younger either.” She chuckled, patting the work table like it was her first born child. “Do you mind taking care of her? After I’m retired?”

Belle’s heart almost sank for a moment knowing there was always a catch. Except Saito once again showed she was nothing like other people in her life. Her chest felt like it lost all room for her overflowing affection. Legs rushed over and Belle said nothing but wrap her arms around the woman, squeezing a little tighter than normal. Now that her senior couldn’t look at her expression, all the tears she desperately tried to keep in now came flowing down her cheeks.

All these walls breaking down, there was one dark truth touching the tip of her tongue. The wedding dress Saito worked so hard on. All for a wedding that wasn’t even real. What Belle wouldn’t do to just blurt it all out right now and let the bleeding wounds heal for once but it can’t be done.

The world was beautiful and cruel at the same time. She never experienced that sentiment so strongly until now.

Saito giggled rubbing her back soothingly as she attempted to give her comfort while also holding a humungous white dress. “I’m not dying, sweetie.”

Belle laughed through her tears, quickly wiping them away when she pulled out of the hug. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “Marriage getting you all emotional?”

“You can say that.” One way to describe the hell she got herself into.

-

“Absolutely not.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male who somehow gained the audacity to disturb him in his office. Fingers stilled around the pen he was holding to sign a few hand-written letters to some associates. A warning to take caution for the coming days due to the raid in one of their biggest dens.

Taehyung scoffed lightly at the blunt response. “Why not?” He folded his arms together in front of his chest. “I spend hours in a day doing absolutely nothing. How long do you expect me just sit idly here?” The man looked and felt sicker by the day which the doctor explained was the body clearing itself out. Not really the most reassuring explanation but he knew at one point where all the sick feelings dissipated because he was properly distracted by something. Someone more like.

He dropped the pen on the table now unable to concentrate on putting the words together especially since this wasn’t exactly Word Document where it could be easily deleted. “I don’t want you in here either.” Jungkook retorted. “But you’re also not the most trusted person to be left alone right now so I’m left with no option other than no.”

“Then a guard can come with me.” Taehyung shrugged. Truth be told the man had no intention of doing what Jungkook had been wary about. Of course it’d be a lie to say there was not a gnawing feeling in his stomach as if something was missing. But right now that was not the goal.

“I suppose you expect me to pay for this outing as well, yes?” He winced.

“You are marrying my sister by force. So yeah you’re paying for both our life insurance as far as this whole fuckery is concerned.”

Jungkook cocked a brow hearing the male’s challenge. Maybe one shot to the leg would have helped him relieve any stress but he hated how much Taehyungs’ eyes resembled Belles’. Sighing in defeat, he grabbed the phone roughly and put it to his ear. “Mr. Kim…I’d like to book a private room in your house this afternoon. Sorry for the late notice.” He glanced over at the male, pressing the phone on his chest. “Who did you want?”

“Angel.”

Of course the fucker had to choose the most expensive angel in the goddamn registry. The crime lord took a deep breath to calm his fury before placing the phone to his ear, an award-winning smile on his lips. “The golden member. Angel…put it in under Kim Taehyung…yes…thank you, Seokjin.” Hanging up the phone, he merely glared at the older male. “They’ll be ready for you in the evening same time as the last one. Look presentable and for the love of god…” His glare sharpened. “…play nice.”

With a detached hum, Taehyung rushed out of the office skipping at every step to finally go outside of this place and to see the beautiful golden lady in the Sangria House.

-

Her heart jumped a little hearing that Kim Taehyung was going to visit the private room again and asked for Angel personally. She tried not to have favourite customers but truthfully the brunette had been the most comfortable to talk to. Most people would ask her questions on her talents in the bedroom or how much each service would cost. To many a golden angel was a literal cash cow for the owner so everyone grew curious as to just how much they were worth.

Months maybe years of training involved to be that perfect inhuman being who could make everyones’ dream come true if they had the right funds.

As any other work night for her anyway, Angel would pad into Seokjins’ office adorned in her signature golden dress which was soon going to be updated by a growing popular designer.

Knocking three times against the dark wood she heard the familiar voice invite her in. Clicking the door open, the girl closed the door behind her and stood in the center of the room like her normal routine. Head bowed, fingers intertwined with one another as she slowly bowed in front of him.

“I’m sure you’ve received the list for today.” Seokjin muttered still looking a few paperwork as the angel raised herself up to her perfect posture.

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” Angel nodded.

“You don’t have to call me that behind closed doors, Angel.” He sighed knowing there was no way the member would listen to him anyway. Keeping up formalities according to her had been a way to ensure she did not take her current state for granted. “There’s a special task I’m giving for your session with Mr. Kim.”

“What is it?” She gained that slight bit of comfort to look him in the eye. Not that it was abnormal but usually Angel was in more sleep appropriate clothes or none at all when they had casual conversations.

Seokjin opened one of the doors in his desk and pulled out a vial with a dark purple shaded powder inside. He swirled the little particles in front of the curious girl. “This is a powder to help Mr. Kim feel more…comfortable during his session.” His voice lowered the slightest as if he was spewing a small secret.

Angel received many unusual requests from customers but rarely from the owner himself. He was always a simple man who found solace in his business. No funny work behind the scenes ever. Except now. Brows furrowed slightly but the woman nodded nonetheless not entirely having any choice but to agree. She gently took the powder before hiding it inside her jeweled hands. “How much do I give him?”

“It’s quite a weak dose so the entire vial should do the trick.” He smiled reassuringly however Angel did not feel quite consoled. “Mix it in his tea so it’s easier to take in.”

The woman felt the vial getting heavier and heavier in her hands as the realization became clear she was about mix a strange substance in a customers’ tea. Something about it felt strange. Angel remembered spending nights inside a club where she would catch bartenders sprinkling things into girls’ drinks but she wasn’t able to say anything to stop them.

Either way the golden lady took a deep breath before giving her husband a large smile and nodded. “Of course.” Angel bowed slightly. “Is there anything else you want me to do, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin reached out and brushed his long fingers against her softly painted skin. For a moment behind closed doors breaking some of the walls of formality so he could truly show some care for the people he watched over. “Be safe.”

-

The heaviness in her hands now seeped into her chest when she sat inside the private room awaiting Taehyung. Except the vial was still clasped in her clutch while her eyes fixated on the tea pot. Seokjin never showed malice towards anyone let alone someone who barely visited the Sangria House. Maybe it wasn’t harmful at all and the methods just seemed controversial in her own mind.

Angel never lost anything from trusting Seokjin in the past so why should this be any different?

Taking another deep breath, her bangles tinkled as she popped the cork of the vial. A light lilac steam flowed out of it when Angel tipped open the tea pot lid and sprinkled the whole substance into it. Seokjin advised her not to have but one cup to ensure she did not lose her own sense while attempting to entertain the man on whatever he needed.

Whatever he needed.

What did he need?

Their first conversation was mostly soft conversations that merely scratched the surface because they both held dark secrets that neither wanted to admit in the first meeting. At least that was why Angel suspected from the slight emptiness behind his eyes. Like he lost a part of himself once.

Maybe tonight Taehyung grew curious of something more than talking.

It was rare for her to do anything but talk, dance or play the gayageum for whoever she entertained due to the high prices for something else.

Then again Taehyung was Jeon Jungkooks’ brother-in-law. The young man could buy the entire Sangria House if he wanted as Seokjin liked to joke about sometimes.

Pulling her back from her trance in thought, the door clicked open and Angel shot up. All her jewellery and the details in her dress welcomed the familiar customer like tiny little wind chimes. Walking to the center of the room and her composure back to normal the woman bowed with the utmost elegance. “Welcome, Mr. Kim.” She grinned.

Taehyung immediately grew speechless when he walked into the private room. Despite the constant mental conversations he had in his mind that he should be calm and collected, once he saw the golden lady, his heart leaped and his stomach filled with butterflies. Really who could blame him? She literally glowed like a goddess even the sun must be in love with her.

Not that he was too. But he still grew a little obsessed at admiring her every feature.

“Would you like to sit down?” She gestured towards the space reserved for him.

The male stammered a little having mentally slap himself before giving her a nod and a friendly smile as he situated himself at the table. Angel sat next to him to ensure that the experience was as intimate as possible. Except now Taehyung felt the room was way too hot for him to tolerate.

With a slight nagging feeling in the back of her mind, Angel poured the tea for the both of them and offered one to Taehyung which he accepted.

Almost immediately he took a sip to somehow alleviate the initial awkwardness of the session. Unfortunately Taehyung ended up downing the whole drink like some kind of tequila shot.

Angel tried to suppress the light giggle that tried to pass her lips and refilled his cup again. “What did you want to do today, Mr. Kim?” She asked with the most perfect smile, fingers perched carefully on her lap.

A light warmth passed through his body as soon as the first cup settled in. Whatever anxiety he had melted slightly; enough for him to give the girl a smile without feeling like a teenage boy who had never seen a woman before. “I—I actually just wanted to talk again.” Taehyung swallowed thickly wondering how stupid it must sound coming to a place like this only to make conversation.

Belle always tried to make him feel at home but it only made him feel worse. He could see how exhausted she was working all day and night while still attempting to keep a happy smile on her face for everyone else. For him. Not to mention the wedding creeping closer, Taehyung could almost feel the weight she must have on her shoulders.

The golden lady nodded in acknowledgement, loosening her posture just the slightest to ensure more comfort. “I’ve heard the other angels talk about Mr. Jeon and your sisters’ wedding.” Her eyes widened a little. A small tinge of excitement burst inside her at the excitement of it all. “Weddings in the Jeon family have always been so regal, a lot of the juniors were talking about their own ceremonies being that way.”

Taehyungs’ heart sank a little seeing how happy the woman got with the wedding. No part of him had the courage to stop her from talking about it; the way her eyes sparkled and her smile melted into something more genuine rather than calculated. He smiled politely before taking a generous swig of his tea, once again unable to determine just how little tea was actually inside it. “What was your wedding like?” He asked watching her refill his drink at perfect timing.

Now Angel could not escape steering away from the question considering she brought up the topic. “I didn’t have a ceremony.” She smiled. “It was a legal signing and…a few witnesses.” She muttered remembering Jimins’ welcoming grin when he saw firsthand the confirmation of her freedom.

He stared at the woman noticing the little tinge of sadness in her smile. A feature eerily familiar in his younger sisters’ smiles too. Except his heart did not sink too much after he drank up the third cup. In fact nothing much happened. His body seemed to come to a full stop in feeling down to his toes almost seeming non-existent. He had to wiggle them a little to ensue himself they were still there. “Their wedding will be beautiful.” Taehyung had a bitter taste in his tongue speaking of it. “You can come. I’m sure Belle would love to have you.”

The woman stammered a little before chuckling nervously. Angel never really attended events unless Seokjin was invited so she could go as a plus one. Despite their ‘marriage’, she was still to be considered an employee and not Mrs. Kim. “I think I might be working on that day.” She spoke honestly.

“What if I took you with me?” Taehyung asked, the words slipping out of his mouth with more ease now.

Angel quickly refilled his cup again not wanting to be a sub-par hostess before politely smiling at the male again. “I can’t go to outings without my husband.” She muttered.

“Husband…” He scoffed with a smile, shaking his head. “Right…sorry.” Once again Taehyung turned to the comfort of chugging the entire cup of tea. His fingers feeling numb and his ears a little blocked but in a comforting way. Like a warm blanket around him after a walk in the cold day. “Do you ever think about running away?”

“Running away?” She searched his expression which had been growing softer and his body looked more casual.

“Yeah…” Taehyung pushed out a small chuckle. “You know, away from everything. Just…to the country side somewhere and just live there all your life with no troubles.” He threw his head back a little and closed his eyes to relish in the distant dream.

Angel giggled lightly. “What about your sister?”

“I’d take her with me.” He replied without hesitation. “She always told me about wanting to go in the mountains and sewing all her clothes from there. A secret designer hidden deep in the mountains.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the dream. Maybe there were some days where the girl wished to leave all of this behind and live somewhere no one could ever touch her again. Where she could be free. But her current life held far too many responsibilities. Seokjin protected her from a worse fate and that was something Angel could spend the rest of her life repaying him for. “It sounds wonderful.”

Taehyung drawled out a deep hum before chugging down another cup he couldn’t keep count of. At this point his head and body felt like they were floating on a fluffy cloud that kind of smelled like jasmines. While his vision was hazier than ever creating a slight glow onto Angels’ face making her look literally like her namesake. A crooked smile tugged at his lips as his eyes drooped. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered.

Angel giggled shyly, lowering her head a little. “And you’re very handsome.” She patted the back of his hand.

“It’s just my luck…” He let out a deep sigh of defeat. “The first person I end up liking…turns out to be a married woman.” The male pouted, eyes trailing down her form not being able to hide all corners of his interest as the strange tea now flooded inside him. “If only we could just—close off the real world for a moment.” His finger seemed to gain the same loose mind and traced the back of her soft hand. “And I could show you how much I like you.”

The girl gently pulled her hand away and placed it back on her lap. Smile slowly faltering into something less genuine. “I can do whatever you want, Mr. Kim. But there are still rules.”

“What if what I want is against the rules?” Taehyung whispered, tilting his head as he searched her expression.

“Then we call security.” She chuckled nervously.

He laughed making his throat feel incredibly prickly. Shoulders shook as he coughed knocking the empty cup over accidentally which Angel quickly set up again. “It’s fine.” Taehyung raised a hand before filling up the tea cup himself albeit while shaking.

Her chest rose and fell watching him down another cup.

As soon as the liquid went down, he coughed again while pain settled in his chest. “Think I might be allergic to jasmines.” Taehyung stared at his cup with a small giggle passing his lips. “Anyway what was I saying?”

Angel had to remind herself that it was not fully Taehyung’s fault for the behavior he began to portray. Except that didn’t change the sinking feeling in her gut as the comfortable bubble they had between them now seemed to melt before her. “You were talking about what you wanted to do.” She answered in a small voice to keep her normal composure.

“You said you’d call security.” His voice grew a little raspy before he coughed again. “Does that mean holding your hand is against the rules?”

She nodded. “That rule is more applied to members like me.”

“Married members.” He traced his finger pad around the brim of the small cup. “But do you ever think about breaking the rules? Just a little.” Taehyung smirked shifting a little closer, his hand once again sliding to her part of the table. “

Angel attempted to smile again before shaking her head. “I’d rather not, Mr. Kim. Responsibilities are important to have—so we don’t get out of control.”

“Fuck responsibilities.” He scoffed leaning back. “I tried being responsible. Being the perfect son…always choose the best path, always be the better cause you are better.” Brick walls inside him turned to paper as anger now burned through it with ease. “All the while my little sister tried so hard. She’s perfect. The best person I’ve ever met and they fucking called her worthless.” Tears melted at the brim of his eyes spewing all these unsaid words. “Then they died…” Taehyung chuckled, vision growing blurry. “…leaving their daughter thinking they never loved her. Responsibility killed my family. They had the responsibility to make the perfect son and look what happened. They never taught me to live without them. Responsibility destroyed my baby sisters’ life.” He winced.

Despite the poison in his body, Taehyung still had that truth suppressed unable to word it out. Your sister is this mess because of you. Because you couldn’t be better. The heat burst through his loosened body unable to control or suppress the urge as he knocked the teapot and cup off the table with the back of his hand.

Pot shattered and cup cracked the male was overwhelmed with another coughing fit that stung his chest.

Angels’ eyes now glossy attempted to hold both her hands up to calm him down. “Taehyung, please.” She whispered. The woman dared to touch his shoulder while his head was lowered on the table. Her heart jumped when she saw the light splutter of red falling from his plump lips onto the wooden surface. Letting out a shaky sigh, she cupped both his cheeks to make him face her gaze. “Taehyung?”

His whole face looked like an utter mess, eyes reddened, cheeks stained with tears and his lips trickling with his own blood. His chest was on fire and he couldn’t help but laugh a little again, teeth stained slightly. “This is what happens when you just talk.” Taehyung growled out. “Everything becomes a fucking mess.” He winced and pushed her off of him not wanting to face her while in this state even though his whole body had no energy to truly care.

“Help!” Angel yelled and almost mere seconds passed with the door bursting open, two guards walking inside. Following them was a concerned Seokjin padding into the room to check on her first.

“Did he hurt you?” His hand hovered her cheek.

She shook her head. “He’s sick, something’s wrong.” Angels’ gaze flickered from the blood splutters on the table to the young male being carried on each side by his arm.

“It’s okay.” Seokjin caressed the top of her head. “Take him to the Jeon household immediately. I will call Mr. Jeon to ensure he’s prepared with a treatment for him.” He explained in a much calmer demeanor than Angel was in at the moment.

One of the guards acknowledged his order before Taehyung was dragged less than gently out the door leaving Angel in her pool of anxiety.

“Keep a stiff upper lip, darling.” Fingers tapped on her chin to make her meet his gaze. “We can’t lose our focus, yes?”

Angel shook her head out of habit. The woman let her heart grow too soft for a man she only conversed with twice thus far. It was too dangerous to make herself dwell on the matter when he was—as much as it ached a little so say it—just a customer. She had responsibilities whether Taehyung or even she liked it or not. So Angel merely bowed and continued to get ready for her next session.

-

Afternoon faded into evening and evening faded into night but no sign of Taehyung. Worry creeped up as the hours passed by with Belle’s thoughts only growing darker instead of more optimistic. Of course she did not stop herself from scolding Jungkook for a few minutes about letting him go out to Sangria House.

The man simply reassured her that one of his guards were present outside of the House if something were to go wrong.

Adorned in her nightgown, Belle refused to rest on her bed despite Nana attempting to convince otherwise. She paced around the room with warmth spreading through her palms from the tea cup in her hands. Fingers tapped against the sides and the worry continued to infest throughout her entire body.

Then the door downstairs opened with a thud.

Slamming the cup onto the table the woman rushed out of the bedroom down the stairs, somewhere in the back of her mind hoping to see her brother safe and sound. Unfortunately luck was not a constant in the Kim Family when she saw Jungkooks’ guards carrying Taehyung inside.

Breath caught in her throat Belle took a few quick steps closer and drops of blood staining his chin and shirt like he was punched through his teeth. “What happened?”

“People at the house said he drank something and started acting weird.” One of the guards explained crudely while they moved to Taehyung’s bedroom.

Jungkook appeared from behind them, looking far more exhausted than ever.

Belle tried to clip her tongue from any more backlash on his decision and followed suit to her brother’s bedroom.

The maids pulled over the blankets so he could be plopped onto the soft surface, causing him to grunt a little under his breath. Belle pulled off his shoes and placed them on the floor as the blanket loosely covered his body now.

“Didn’t they tell you what he drank?” She asked, pressing his hand against the male’s forehead but his skin wasn’t any more heated than normal.

“We have someone from our private med coming in tonight.” Jungkook padded into the bedroom after sending the guards out. The male had a slightly casual tone about him despite seeing the worry shaking from his future wife. Maybe he should have made more effort in feeling sorry but he knew this would happen. “He’ll be fine, baby.”

Belle refused to respond, eyes merely focusing on Taehyung who was having trouble keeping himself awake. He needed to be okay. He just had to. The wedding date slowly slithered closer now to a point where she felt like suffocating. Her brother was the only thread of hope she could hold onto to give her strength but now it just felt like they were back to square one all over again. Was this what Jungkook wanted? If Taehyung never got better than the girl would have no chance whatsoever to get away from him. She wouldn’t have any other choice but to stay here.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered every now and then seeing a blurry vision of dark hair and white clothing. For a moment he already confirmed his own death assuming maybe the figure before him was an angel. Except a few seconds he noticed Belle’s familiar features. “’m sorry…” He whispered.

She shook her head brushing his hair away from his forehead. “Don’t apologize.” The last person Belle blamed was Taehyung. He wasn’t the one who made them stay here. He wasn’t the one who made the deal nor did he agree to it on his own accord.

Minutes passed before one of the guards walked in announcing that a medical apprentice arrived to the premise to help them out. A little irritated, Jungkook told them to bring the person in. The downside of private meds was that they always had to protect their own backsides from being seen by prying eyes in mob leaders’ households. They would then send apprentices to do the job for them especially if it’s not a serious case.

Through the door walked in a raven haired male with a white shirt and some pants on looking the complete opposite of what any med should look like.

“Please don’t tell me this is your first day.” Jungkooks’ eyes judged him up and down right through his very core.

The apprentice cleared his throat as he stared down at his outfit. “It wasn’t really my shift tonight, sir. I was told this was an emergency.”

“Mi amor, this isn’t the time find out who the next top model is.” Belle retorted walking over to the entrance as she gave the apprentice a small friendly smile.

Jungkook noticed the guards’ eyes widen a little at the way she spoke to him. Not to mention the little nickname blatantly spewed in front of most of the staff.

“They said he drank something strange—”

The apprentice nodded looking over at the tanned male struggling to sleep peacefully, body jerking as he coughed. “My supervisor said it was a new drug that was sent to him for testing once. Manufacturer didn’t have a name but he called it Shade Terror…” He looked at both Jungkook and Belle. “May I?” He gestured to Taehyung.

Belle saw the apprehension in her fiancées’ expression. Granted the woman would be hesitant to let a trainee try and help her brother but she couldn’t just let him stay in pain until something else was available. Reaching out, she gently held onto his pinky and ring finger as a silent way of pleading that he let the man help Taehyung.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked.

“Yoongi…sir.” He bowed once again to enhance a vulnerable state in front of him. His face did not exactly scream ‘meek’ after all.

The young lord nodded and gestured towards Taehyung so he could start with his work. As soon Yoongi situated himself next to the bed, Jungkook turned his head to face Belle for a moment. On any other day a new face trying to do medical work under his roof would have gone through hundreds of investigations and gun to their head while they worked. So why was it Jungkook couldn’t find the courage to do the same now? Especially when Belle met his gaze and gave him a light smile to quietly thank him for agreeing.

Detaching their hands Belle walked back to the other side of the bed and watched Yoongi press his fingers against the side of Taehyungs’ neck. His way of working was definitely a lot more careful than that of a more experienced doctor but it looked far more reassuring. He placed a small wooden box on the nightstand before flicking it open and pulling out a vial filled with a pale blue milky liquid.

“We need to make him sit up.” He spoke in a slightly shy demeanor.

Belle nodded and gently pulled Taehyung up to a sited position as he leaned back against the headboard.

Her older brother whined light under his breath before lulling off to a messy sleep again.

Yoongi pulled the cork off of the vial before forcing the mans’ mouth open by pressing through his cheeks. Without a moment’s hesitation, he poured the liquid down his throat before clamping his mouth and nose shut forcing him to swallow it down.

She wanted to protest for a moment but immediately saw how Taehyung tried to resist the medicine, thrashing about on the bed until the blanket was almost off the bed.

Once the apprentice pulled away her older brother drowned into a coughing fit.

“He might vomit for a while to get the toxins out.” Yoongi spoke as he clapped the small box shut.

After a few more minutes of whining and light thrashing, Taehyung finally breathed out into a calmer state of relaxation before lulling off to sleep again.

The apprentice was about to walk out of the room before Jungkook stepped in front of him, hands pressed firmly against his chest.

“You’re staying here until we know he’s okay.” His glare shot like daggers, distrust practically oozing through his veins at the strange face.

Belle wondered a little to herself how he had so much trust issues for this apprentice but had all the confidence in the world to marry her without any knowledge of how she was. Either way for once she could relate to his suspicion. If the ‘antidote’ somehow made Taehyung worse then she’d want Yoongi in the mansion, accessible for proper punishment.

Yoongi looked over his shoulder to face the young woman who had a much kinder expression but even she grew hardened at the sign of distrust. Not that the man could truly blame her, for all they knew he could have gave the tanned man poison. So he nodded and stood back waiting for a few guards to lead him to a guest room. Weeks of training to just get enough inside information on Jungkook instead he was now literally invited into their home as a guest for the night. Granted on darker circumstances but it deemed to be a strange step forward.

-

Morning rushed in with a light warmth and Belle persisted to stay in Taehyungs’ bedroom the whole night despite everyone else’s attempt at convincing her otherwise. For a few hours she was able to travel back to a simpler time when she would snuggle into her older brothers’ bed whenever the darkness got difficult to deal with alone. Taehyung kept her in his arms all night telling her she was worth so much more than what their parents pushed on the girl.

What he didn’t truly know was that his love was strong enough to be all she needed. At some point Belle stopped longing for her parents’ validation knowing there was one amazing person already treating like she should be.

She wanted to do the same and make sure he knew in all this mess there was one person who always loved him more than anything.

Gold peeked through the curtains when the older male shifted in his position, eyes opening to a silhouette sleeping next to him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips seeing the familiar face. For a few moments, Taehyung could pretend they were a normal family again without the real world around them trying to crumble it down or tear them apart. Those few minutes were sacred until he saw the shining ring around her finger. The ring she probably never wanted but took so he could heal. Now as his smile disappeared and his eyes burned, he was painfully reminded of the sacrifice Belle was going to make in a few days.

Taking in a deep breath, Belle slowly moved herself awake widening her eyes a little before she met with Taehyungs’ gaze. “Were you watching me sleep?” She giggled tiredly.

“Just checking if you actually did that.” Taehyung smiled again.

“You look better now.”

“I feel better. Aside from the vomiting, this room stinks.” He winced not wanting to look at a soiled bin on his side of the bed.

Belle shifted to lay on her back with a relaxed sigh. Eyes flickered over to her phone for the time; only a few hours until she had to go to work. But she could risk a few minutes for this rare moment where it was just the two of them. No maids, no guards, no Jungkook. Just a brother and a sister. “What happened, Tae?” She whispered.

“It wasn’t me.” Taehyung answered simply. “Seriously, I went into Sangria House and talked to Angel and…drank jasmine tea. I don’t think I’m allergic to jasmines.”

“The private med that came in said it was the symptoms of a drug.” Belle turned her head to meet his gaze. He had tried to lie about these things before but she could tell he had no idea this would happen to him at all.

“Jungkook probably asked them to slip something in my drink.” He scoffed.

It wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing the man had done in his lifetime especially from the things Belle had seen and heard in this house.

Her silence seemed to trigger a spark inside Taehyung’s body as he searched her expression. “You’re thinking that too, aren’t you?”

Belle swallowed down her words despite how strong they wanted to be sung across her tongue. “He’s a horrible man…but he can’t be that desperate to be married…I think.” Her brows furrowed not sure of anything she spoke out.

“He was desperate enough to put a ring on a stranger.” He retorted.

She hated how closely their thoughts aligned. There were so many things wrong about this situation but if this was true then Jungkook may be worse than he lets on in front of her. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.” A smile stretched across her slightly chapped lips.

“You matter too.” Taehyung felt that familiar choke in his throat like his grip slipped and he was forced to watch Belle fall into this abyss. “You mean so much to me. How am I supposed to feel better if you’re hurting in the process?”

Belle quickly moved her gaze to the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m not hurting, I promise. It’s going to be okay.” She intertwined her fingers with his trying to give him some form of reassurance.

“Morning…” Jungkook walked through the door of the bedroom, now in a fresh new suit and curled hair with a glass juice in his hand. “How’re you feeling?” He asked albeit not in the most compassionate tone.

“Fine.” Taehyung muttered.

The woman shifted to sit up on the bed, straps of her nightie falling over her shoulder as she stood up. “He only drank the jasmine tea in Sangria House.” Belle spoke simply. “Is there a special recipe that we should have known about?” Her arms folded over her chest, eyes growing a little sharp pointing at Jungkook.

“Jasmines and water?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know drugs more than a lot of people. What do you think that—Shade Terror thing could’ve been?”

“I’ve never heard of it before.” Except Jungkook may have had a small clue on what exactly was mixed into Taehyungs’ tea. The question he did not know the answer to was why. True Seokjin had some less than kind methods for people who might be treating his angels improperly. Maybe Taehyung did something that he was not saying to anyone.

Somehow Jungkooks’ lack of knowledge created more suspicion than there was due between the siblings. Belle padded closer to the male who immediately caressed her forearm. “You didn’t kill the medical apprentice yes?”

“Not yet.”

She looked over her shoulder giving her older brother a small smile. “We’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

For the first time in a while, Taehyung had a more relaxed heart looking at his sister despite the man next to her making his blood boil at the same second.

Belle pulled Jungkook towards the bar gently with a deep sigh.

“There’s something else.” He broke the brief silence immediately.

“What did you and Seokjin talk about that night?” She turned to face him properly.

The curly haired male scoffed lightly, placing his glass on the table. “It was business.”

“Seokjin owns a brothel, you own a cartel. What kind of business would you two be talking about exactly?”

Jungkook had to admit to himself, the woman was more intelligent than she let on and he wondered whether that was useful or more dangerous in this particular situation. “You think I had something to do with your brothers’ problem?”

“Yes.” A deadly silence plunged into the room as the guards and maids now felt far too comfortable to be in the living room. “Now answer my question.”

The male sighed knowing there was no reason to embarrass himself by trying to lie to a woman who had already seen his true colours. “We were discussing a new drug that Seokjin wanted to distribute through our cartel. I suppose he wanted to use it on his customers as a test run.” He shrugged.

“So you knew this might happen to Taehyung?”

“Of course I didn’t know it could happen to him.”

“But you knew the testing was going on and you still let him go to the House.”

“I’m not his father, Belle, it’s not my responsibility to keep him in check.” He gestured roughly towards the room.

Belle scoffed bitterly. “This is the responsibility you got when you decided to stick your fingers into our lives.” She took a step closer. “No one asked you to do all of this. We had the money to make all of this go away.” The heat spread through her so fast, her fingers began trembling and her head grew heavy. “So don’t fucking act like this is some big inconvenience only to you.”

Their conversation broke apart and attentions turned to the raven haired male standing just a few inches away from the bar as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry…I was called.” Yoongi replied simply, pretending he didn’t hear the answer to Namjoons’ burning question about Belle and Jungkooks’ sudden relationship. Hands settled behind his back and a neutral expression plaster across his features, he waited for one of the dual powers to speak up.

Belle faded back into a soft expression before smiling at Yoongi like she had not been incredibly distressed a few seconds ago. “I wanted to say thank you. My brother is all better now.” She walked away from the counter, closer to the raven haired male. “How much do we need to pay you?”

He shook his head with a reassuring smile. “My supervisor told me not to ask for any payment—”

“But you came all this way…” She muttered.

“An invitation to the wedding perhaps.” Jungkook spoke up now, leaning on his hands against the edge of the counter. “Your supervisor could come along as a plus one.”

Yoongis’ lips parted as he met Belle’s gaze who gave him an encouraging nod. An invitation to a stupid wedding did not seem like a prize of any sort but he assumed being a guest to such a prestigious ceremony was a gift. Either way he couldn’t exactly disagree to the offer now that it was on the table so he gave them both a smile that could constitute as grateful. “Thank you so much…I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to come to the event.”

“I’m sure he will.” The other male gave him a forced smile despite being hyper aware of the eyes that were on them when Belle snapped. Everyone would remember now. The girl who walked in here being manipulated slowly grew hardened to her struggles and had every ounce of courage to fight back. It was a red flag shouting at him to pull the trigger…prevent any more problems from arising. Except he loved the anger. The fire in her eyes gave him life and vigor, he couldn’t just take it away. Whether that would be a good decision or bring his downfall was up to fate now.

-

Night fell cloudy as Boyoung entered the Jeon household just two days before her nephews’ big wedding.

Belle sat in her bedroom watching her dress getting steamed by Nana while she sent a few emails confirming the date of the Spring Line fashion show. Since Saito placed her own hand into the line, the venue and date had to be perfect enough for the most important guests to arrive during that time. The show was going in over three months but her anxiety creeped in already.

Last time the woman had a fashion show, she missed it completely on account of getting her brother to a safe place. That was one of the smaller ones though. This one would have designers from far and wide coming in just to see these designs on show, critics, celebrities and a venue so majestic Belle almost got nauseous just looking at the pictures. It was going to be the pivotal moment of her career. If this went well then orders would come in like a waterfall and her name would be solidified in the industry.

She had to force herself to take a deep breath before her whole body exploded in her heavy mixture of anxiety and excitement.

“Belle, dear.” Boyoung knocked twice before peeking through the open door. A smile immediately tugging at her lips when she saw the younger female.

She peered through her glasses before closing her laptop and placing it on her nightstand. As soon as the girl tried to get up the older woman put her hands up.

“Please sit, darling.” She giggled padding over and sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. “I need to talk to you about something important.” Boyoung placed her purse on the soft surface before pulling out a steel container. “I know you can buy your own but just for tonight.” She removed the lid to show that it was filled almost to the brim with pomegranate seeds shining a little like rubies in the light.

Belle tilted her head before chuckling softly. “What is this for?”

“Eat a lot of pomegranate seeds from now on.” Her eyes widened a little from her own excitement, placing the container in her hands with care. “It’s going to help with bearing a child.”

If the anxiety was strong before, it shot through of her head now making her entire body tremble. Belle hoped her true reaction did not seem too obvious when she forced to smile at the woman. She knew a lot of families vowed to traditional means to help bearing children but that was not what shocked.

Bearing children.

Children.

Making lives.

Bringing more innocent lives into this world.

Into this mess.

It was now more than ever Belle could relate herself to Persephone. Being given pomegranates to make her stay in the Underworld permanently. She was never going to escape this place if she had Jungkooks’ child in her belly. The woman would be bound to this world, etched on it like the phoenix tattoo on her fiancées skin.

Whether Taehyung got better or not. There would be no escaping after that.

“I’ve never seen Jungkook happier than I have now.”

Because he’s getting exactly what he wanted all along.

“You really made a difference.” Boyoung patted her cheek, eyes looking a little glossy as she grinned. “Thank you.”

Belle sighed lightly with a shaking smile still struggling on her face. “Don’t thank me. I wanted to.”

The older woman nodded glancing behind to see the gorgeous dress hanging on the large stand, chuckling. “I’ll leave you to your privacy…while you still have it.” She teased.

Once Boyoung left the room, Nana paused in her work and looked over at Belle with a worried expression. Much to her heartbreak the young girl broke into silent tears as she placed the contained on the nightstand. Placing the steamer down she padded over to her mistress and said nothing but pulled her in for an embrace. “You’ll be okay, dear. You have a strong heart.”

Then why did it feel like it was crumbling to a million pieces from too much pressure?

-

“Her older brother?” Namjoons’ voice spoke through the phone.

Yoongi shook himself slightly to fight away the cold despite the confines of the glass booth around him. “Yeah he’s been living in the Jeon mansion for a while I’m guessing. Belle also said something about her having the money. Her brother might have had a debt of some sort.” He glanced around the darkening streets spotting only a few stumbling groups passing by in a fit giggles. “Jungkook refused the money…”

“Leverage maybe? To marry Belle?”

“Yandere move.” He muttered under his breath. “Whatever’s going on, Jungkook seems a little soft for the girl.”

“That’s never good.” Though Yoongi could hear the slight bounce in Namjoons’ tone.

Soft meant weakness. A word hardly associated with Jungkook under any circumstances but now it might strike a ray of hope. “Belle’s smart though. She was able to fish out information on Seokjin making the new drug…and she wants me to stay in the mansion tonight too.”

Silence plunged between the call for a few minutes before Namjoon spoke again. “You think she’s suspicious?”

“I think she’s careful. After that whole Sangria House drama, she probably wants to keep her brother safe so having a medical apprentice seems the way to go.” He hung his head slightly irritated that these were all assumptions at this point. Yoongi thought Jungkook would be hard to read but now he had to be careful of the new queen about to be crowned in the cartel. “I know it’s not enough—”

“No, you kidding? That’s a lead. Jeon weddings are where the family is going to be most vulnerable. Meaning no executions, no drama, it’s all about the celebration.” Namjoon explained almost in a whisper which meant that the male must have still been in the precinct working. “It’s the perfect time to get on their best side.”

Yoongi nodded quickly moving to hang up before he heard Namjoon make a noise again. “What?”

“Be careful, okay?”

He smirked. “I’m always careful.”

-

Belle got herself adorned in a simple mustard body con dress with some light makeup and her hair done loosely as she walked down the stairs to the entrance of the mansion. Two guards stopped her at the front asking it was too dark for her to be out. It was a spur of the moment decision to just get out of the house on her own accord for once.

Except she knew she had to be smart about it. Going out at night when so many people knew her face and name now was risky. But she didn’t want any of the guards to be stuck to her the whole time.

“Yoongi will come with me.”

The older male barely managed spent a few minutes on his own after the short conversation in the phone booth with Namjoon. He merely walked out of his bedroom for a moment to check on Taehyung before Belle dedicated him to a night out.

“The–the medical apprentice, ma’am?” One of the guards stammered.

“He looks able-bodied and Taehyung’s crashed for the night. It’s only a couple of hours, gentlemen, I’m sure the world won’t end.” A few more minutes of jabbing a sharp expression towards the guards they eventually caved and told her the car was coming in soon.

Yoongi only had his white shirt which was re-washed surprisingly quickly by the maids so he would not smell putrid by the day. It was like living in a house of robots who just did what Jungkook asked. Except for this woman. She looked like the only person moving in real time.

Once the car was pulled in, Belle asked Yoongi to drive since she felt a little too anxious to concentrate.

“Where to?”

“Sangria House.”

Without asking any questions, Yoongi drove on with a heavily engraved memory of where the location was. The car ride itself was deeply silent making the male incredibly aware that he was completely alone with Belle. Would it be too quick to just tell her what’s going on? It didn’t seem like she had any worries defying Jungkook but that could mostly just be so she could act as a balance of power in the cartel.

Best to stay quiet, he told himself.

The car stopped in front of the establishment causing Belle to let out a deep sigh. “Could you wait here?” She asked in a soft tone now. “I’m sorry to pull you into this but I think it’s better if I took someone who wasn’t directly Jungkooks’ guard for this meeting. I promise I’ll explain your absence to him.”

When the woman gave him a reassuring smile, Yoongi felt his heart sink a little. One thing he despised about himself is how easily he could see something broken behind a persons’ eye. He would see it in the seventeen year old school girl who had to explain how her principal called her into his office every week but it was never because she was in trouble. He would see it in the convicted young man who tried to recount the events that led to him murdering his uncle. He saw it here and now. That broken nature all in a smile that meant she tried to survive something that was too much to take. Or was trying to survive. Despite the pressure of thoughts in his mind, he nodded in agreement before Belle walked out of the car.

-

“Ms. Belle!” Seokjin announced as Belle was escorted into his office by one of the white angels. Another junior angel poured them some tea in two cups before bowing and leaving the room. “Please sit.”

Swallowing down, the woman padded over to the table and carefully sat down on one of the chairs feeling a light breeze in the room. She regretted not getting a shawl of some sort but this was meant to be a quick meeting.

“Some tea?” He gestured with that same trained smile he always had for all his customers and business partners.

Belle stared at the filled up and merely smiled. “I’ve grown a little wary of tea at the moment.”

Seokjins’ lips twitched a little almost losing the calculated grin he adorned so gracefully. “I suppose that’s understandable.” He chuckled under his breath. “Though I assure you I don’t drug valued partners.” He nodded to himself. “But we’re not really talking about the tea here. What did you want to talk about?”

“Sangria House has been a pride and joy for tradition and beauty, yes? But you also want to influence the future generation which is why our partnership exists.” She leaned back on her chair. “Have we not made sufficient dresses?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head.

“Does it not look expensive enough?”

“It looks absolutely marvelous.”

“Then why is it, Mr. Kim, that you seem to need another business transaction with my future husband?” Belle tilted her head, searching his expression.

Seokjin chuckled lightly. “I am an active businessman, Ms. Belle.”

“An active businessman who tries to distribute a faulty product.” She continued simply. “I’m not an expert on drugs and do correct me on this but aren’t drugs supposed to make you feel good? At least on the first day, one should not start coughing out blood and losing their mind.”

“It still has its tweaks.” His smile slowly started fading away for a moment.

“Then fix it before you test it on the wrong people.”

“Madam, are you suggesting I stop making this business transaction with your fiancée? Wouldn’t that be unfair to Mr. Jeon? Having this discussion without his approval?”

“I think Mr. Jeon needs a little bit of unfair in his life.” Belle smiled. “All I’m asking is for you to pause any discussions or testing on this transaction until ours is finished. I’m a little possessive like that, I prefer full focus.” She scrunched her nose. “Once we’re done with the Spring Line show and all is successful, you can begin…your experimentation as you please. Does that sound fair enough?”

Silence plunged into the room as Seokjin had to collect himself for a few moments at the proposal thrown at him. “I can see why Mr. Jeon took an interest in you.” He chuckled a little nervously. “Alright…as a way to sincerely apologize for my actions, I will halt any discussions on the new product with your husband. All the focus will be on our line…Madame Belle.”

Jungkook never truly cared about the complete wellbeing for Taehyung. It was all conveniently to keep the deal alive. So if she couldn’t win with him on a personal level then maybe damaging him on a business level might just give her leverage.

Was this going to help her life with Jungkook become more pleasant? No. Not at all.

But this was her only way to take control of something again. Jungkooks’ successes in getting money from this new drug now relied on her milestone, not his power.

A few more formalities and Belle was led into one of the private rooms where she saw Jimin sitting with a bright smile waiting for her.

The lavender adorned male immediately got to his feet, bowing down until he was almost on his knees. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

It was like all the responsibilities and pressures on her shoulders immediately pulled off of her when she walked into the room. Inside these walls the woman could forget the world outside just for an hour.

Belle hated to admit that she had been visiting Jimin in secret for the past month now just after her work so it could be passed off as overtime. It was sneaky behavior and she despised stooping to such a level but she had to. Getting out of that house and being out of the boutique just for a while was exactly the time Belle needed to feel sane. Forgetting ones’ problems never solved them but she wanted the weight off. Jimin knew exactly how to do that.

Once the lavender angel slid the doors close leaving just the two of them.

All responsibilities were gone.

Just peace.

-

Eventually the fantasy hour had to finish. Belle ran her fingers through her hair as she stepped out of the establishment, rain pouring down violently in the dark night. One of the guards from the House gave her an umbrella and led her to the car where Yoongi jumped out of the car to open it for her. A silly move since now he was drenched.

“Sometimes chivalry can die, you know.” Belle chuckled a little watching the poor thing shiver as he started the car.

“Believe me, ma’am I thought the same thing as I walked out.” Yoongi couldn’t hold in a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. God, was this woman a fucking siren or something? “How was your session?”

She nodded before looking out the window at the blurry view outside. “It was nice.” The right corner of his lips twitched a little.

Yoongi hummed.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He shook his head, glad he had to fully focus on the road and shiver throughout the whole car ride.

Belle chuckled flicking the heater on and directing the vents towards him. “I just talk to them unless you’re thinking otherwise.”

“I’d look like an ass if I assumed something like that, madam.” He spoke before taking a deep breath as he felt the calming heat touch his skin.

“Please call me Belle, I sound like such an aunt when people call me madam.” She briefly held his arm creating more warmth for him.

Yoongi almost felt a little deprived when she pulled her hand away. “Belle…right.” He scoffed out a small breathy laugh.

The mustard adorned woman relaxed into the seat a little with a long sigh, her sweet smile disappearing a little. “I like talking to them…him, it’s just one person. It—it’s the only place I can really talk to someone without…feeling like something’s going to go wrong.” Her brows furrowed as she swallowed. “It might sound a little stupid.”

“No…” He jutted out his bottom lips as he shook his head. “No it’s not stupid at all.”

Belle trailed her gaze to face his expression, raven fringe hovered over his eyes but he seemed to see everything on the road with the way he was driving. “You think so?”

Yoongi shrugged. “In the world you live in…I can’t exactly antagonize you for talking to someone just to relax or feel sane at the very least.” He chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with getting help where you can.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” She muttered.

“I should probably thank you for not letting Jungkook kill me that night.” He smirked.

“Well you did dress up like an idol reject.” Belle giggled.

“Point taken.”

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >> 

[fanfic-cave]

The Reveal Pt. 1

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: Swearing (im too lazy to write the star wars swear words so its our kind of swears), trauma/fear situation, suspense build up, hints to romance

Summary: You've exposed yourself as a Jedi to the Bad Batch, and not intentionally. You're trying to avoid them on the Havoc Marauder, worried that they may be out for your blood, the same way the clones were when they executed the Jedi.

Authors note: I'd recommend reading a few other fics I posted that kinda help lay the ground work for this story/the OC. Ill link them below. This is kinda dramatic, but I had to write it out. Ill post part 2 pretty quickly itll be linked below as well. I have more fluff stuff coming I promiseeee

Migraine

Injured Pt. 1, Pt 2.

Part 2 of The Reveal here

@mangoberry99

The environment on the Havoc Marauder had been tense the whole ride. You had decided to try and avoid everyone as much as possible, and you’ve been on the far side of the ship in the small medical supply closet since the journey began.

Shit.

You had slipped up. You prayed to the force that they didn’t notice, but who were you kidding. Hunter had enhanced sense, Tech was enough of a genius to put two and two together. They saw you make a 40ft jump.

You and the ship were under heavy fire. They were trying to bring the ship closer, but they weren’t making progress quickly enough. You had to jump, or take blaster shots to the face. Now you exposed yourself by making an impossible jump.

Maybe they’ve never seen a Jedi before…

You shook your head. Idiot. Of course they’ve seen Jedi, they were in the Grand Army of the Republic, the same army that had thousands of Jedi as commanders and generals.

You used to be a part of that same army. You fought the war.

And you ran away before it was even over. The battle on Umbara… you shivered from the thought of it. That was your last fight.

That’s when I stopped being a Jedi.

You dispelled the thought, just for another unpleasant one to come. What if they know I am- or was, a Jedi? What if they try to kill me like the other clones did to the Jedi? You squeezed your eyes tight. Their faces flashed through your mind. Memories too- challenging wrecker to a drinking contest, teaching Tech the proper pronunciations in Togruti, spending time with Echo in the cockpit on a night of shared insomnia, cutting Crosshairs toothpick while still in his mouth on a day where he was giving you too much sass, and Hunter.

Hunter. You sucked in a deep breath, a swell of emotions filling in your chest. You always wondered about him. His relationship with you was different from everyone else. You could call the boys your friend, but you weren't sure if friend was the right word for him. You noticed how he would keep his eyes on you, how he kept close to you when things got dangerous. You remembered moments when you tended to each other's wounds, or walked past each other on the ship. The longing glances, lingering touches. You could almost feel the electricity you had felt just from being beside him, for some reason craving to reach out to him. You trusted him, you had vulnerable moments with him.

And now he might try to kill me. And I might kill him.

The galaxy really knew how to be cruel, and it looked like you were being given the cruelest fate it could think of.

The door opened and you saw a small figure slip in. Omega. You sighed. She liked you, maybe too much, now that the shit was about to hit the fan. Or you would run and hide as soon as you could, and never see them again.

“Sera! I was looking for you!” She smiled and turned on the lights. She seemed happy to have found you.

“Hey kid.” You looked down at her, and you couldn’t help smiling. Omega was your first friend after a long time of solitude. She wandered over to your home a lot, which led to your eventual friendship with the bad batch.

“Do you mind if I sit in here with you? Or maybe you can come out with me?”

You felt your stomach sink. You weren’t going to enjoy letting her down.

“Omega… maybe it’s best you go stay near the boys. They’re probably wondering where you are right now.”

“I don’t think so, they know I’m on the ship.” She brushed off your concerns quickly. “Tell me about one of the planets you’ve visited! Or-”

“Omega, Sera, we’re about to land, strap in.” You heard Hunters voice down the hall. You felt knots twist in your stomach. You used the force to sense your lightsaber. Still hidden in your bag, a secret pocket you made to effectively hide it. You didn’t make any movements.

“Sera? You coming?”

You looked to see Omega waiting expectantly, concern showing on her face. “Sera…” an expression you couldn’t quite understand crossed her face as she stared at you. Was it worry? Understanding? “You’re safe here.” She reached out to touch your arm. “I promise, you’re safe.” She squeezed your arm and smiled.

If only you knew.

You won’t kill them. You’ll do whatever you can to disarm, and run. You decided this with confidence now. You couldn’t hurt Omega like that, kill the only family she knows. And if it comes down to it… you’ll take the knife in the back, the blaster shot, the beating, whatever happens.

“Thanks Omega.” You smiled, but it was fake, and you were sure it probably looked wrong. “You head up now. I’ll be fine back here.”

She looked unsure and you nodded your head, urging her on. She exited and you released a breath you held. You closed the door and shut off the light.

You heard footsteps, your name being called, but you stayed hidden. Eventually you felt the ship jolt around a bit, and you could tell you’d just exited hyper space and were flying through the atmosphere. Another couple minutes later, a soft thud confirming that you’d landed. You felt adrenaline start pulsing through your body, your fingertips felt like they were being zapped with electricity.

Here we go.

You slipped your mask on, a memento of the clone wars you fought in. You used to always wear it, that was until you befriended the misfit clones. You felt protected when you wore it though, and you needed as much protection as you could get right now.

You shook your head a few times. Maybe they don’t know. Maybe they don’t know. Maybe they don’t know. You kept repeating it in your head. Almost like a mantra. You grabbed your bag and exited the room.

“Sera! There you are!” Wreckers loud voice boomed down the hall. You flinched a little. He didn’t charge at you. He smiled his big goofy grin, swaggering down the hall. He didn’t look like he was going to pummel you. You waited expectantly. “Here I am…” you forced a laugh.

“Where were you?” Hunter spoke and emerged from behind Wrecker. His eyes tried to meet yours, but you avoided direct contact. You didn’t walk up to approach either of them. You watched Hunter now. He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt you either.

This could be a trick. The clones killed the Jedi by tricking them, it had to be the only way. You stayed on guard. You answered Hunter, “Just around. Felt like being alone.”

“Okay then...” His eyebrows knit together, and his arms folded across his chest. You couldn’t tell if he believed you. Hunter was always difficult to read. The boys knew you coveted alone time, so you thought your excuse was believable. Technically it was partially true.

“Well I’m here, we’re back, and we can get off the ship now, right Tech? Echo?” You hollered down the hall. Hunter had an eyebrow raised, analyzing your behavior. You tried to ignore him.

“Yes, we’re opening the doors now.” You heard Tech reply. Right on queue, the ship's exit ramp opened.

You rushed out quickly, managing to get past Wrecker. You breathed the fresh air in. Almost out of this. Then it’s time to disappear. You still had your old Jedi cruiser hidden. Now it was time to put it to use, hopefully you didn’t get gunned down by an Imperial ship.

“Sera, wait up!” You heard Wrecker barrel down. You held your breath, hairs standing up. “How did you make that jump earlier? It was so far!” His hands made a motion to exaggerate it. “Did something explode??” He said excitedly. You didn’t think about how that logic made no sense. You only stood frozen.

“Explosives couldn’t have done that Wrecker.” Tech chimed in. “And isn’t it obvious?” He was standing at the exit door of the Havoc, looking at his data pad. “Sera is a Jedi.”