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neocity-sarai · 4 years

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“Love in _____ “ series

❀ chapter 3: reader x jaemin

❀ forbidden love

❀ alerts: fluff, tinge of angst, language, suggestive, making out, i do not speak fluent french whatsoever, please forgive the mistakes, mentions of the dreamies

❀ song rec: “paris” by sabrina carpenter

“Love in Paris”

You’re surprised how you managed to make it this far. When you first told your parents that you wanted to move to Paris, they shot you down even before you finished. You told them you wanted to live by yourself to experience independence in a cultural epicenter and have some type of outlet to practice your french skills. Not that you were an expert in any way. Several days later, your father convinced your mother that it would be a good way to see the world and live in an environment that was different from your dull, quiet neighborhood. Before you knew it, you were on a one-way plane to Paris, France.

Several months later

Thankfully, you were pretty decent at your french skills without butchering the accent you had to adopt when speaking. You got a job at a nearby cafe that was close to your studio apartment but you couldn’t feel any happier. Despite having such a small room, you adored it. All you had was a small bed, a wooden vanity, a mirror, and a few belongings from home. Every morning, you’d wake up to the honey-colored window next to your bed as you hung your arms out of it- looking at the Eiffel tower that scraped against the dawn sky. It was like you were living in a painting, the way that the sky turned a light shade of lilac during twilight or how the city glowed in the late hours of the night. In the mornings, you’d always pick up a bouquet of pansies in the market that resided in the Jardin des Tuileries. You’d place the flowers in a crystal glass that you found in some vintage store in passing, you considered it your best investment. During the night time, you always felt yourself relaxing with the sound of occasional car honks or the buskers playing their accordions on the streets. You’d put your headphones on to play some soft music, swirling a glass of red wine that sat in your hand. Over the first few weeks of coming there, you mostly stuck to your day to day routine rather than exploring Paris for yourself. When you had the time, you promised that you would scour the city by every corner and alley. You just had to earn your rent money first.

You actually found the boulangerie by accident. You made a wrong turn somewhere and discovered a quaint, two story bakery that was called, “Claudette’s.” By chance, you decided to follow the comforting scent of fresh bread and honey-glazed pastries, an older woman who wore a chiffon skirt smiled at you. The establishment only had a couple customers in it, she made her way around the corner, “Comment puis-je vous aider madame?”

You answered her, “Embauchez- vous?”

“Oui.”

You walked closer to her, shaking her hand, “Je voudrais travailler ici. Parlez vous anglais?”

“Oui, un peu.”

“Merci.”

Though you could speak french without many problems, you still preferred speaking in english. You’re grateful that the woman was willing to cooperate with you. She eyed you curiously. She seemed like a character straight out of a novel as her hair piled into a messy bun of white, her apron is embroidered with tiny blossoms, and she looked extremely young for how old she actually was. In a heavy french accent she spoke to you, “Are you new in Paris?”

“I am, since a few months ago.”

“What- er, why work at my shoppe?”

Though the job is to make money, you really did want to experience the life of working in a bakery. You always were interested in how to make coffee or how to ice cakes and back home, you just couldn’t. You continue, “I want to learn from you, mademoiselle.”

“Call me Claudette, welcome.”

After your encounter with Claudette, you had been in Paris for nearly a year. Time flew by and you hadn’t even noticed. You were comfortable after trying and failing to make french-foam macchiatos, mixing up people’s orders, and getting the texture of the pastries right. You were thankful that Claudette was patient with you.

Like every other Monday morning, you swung the sign that hung on the bakery’s door to open, taking the morning rush on by yourself. Claudette entrusted the shoppe to you when she needed to sort out inventory or go on errands. You didn’t mind that, knowing your customers’ names, conversations about their lives. When you finally got to the end of the line, a peculiar customer had stepped foot through the doorway. He seemed to be taller than you, dressed in a white t-shirt and a blue blazer with matching pants to go with it. The odd part was that you couldn’t clearly see his face as it was covered with a black scarf, hat, and blake sunglasses. Why did it seem like he was trying to hide his face? You asked him, “Comment puis-je vous aider?”

“Je voudrais un expresso, pas de lait.”

“Donc tout noir?”

“Huh?” Despite the dark shades over his eyes, you could still sense the boy’s confusion in his voice. You took your chances, “Are you fluent in english?”

“I sure am.”

You nod at him skeptically, “I was asking if you were sure you wanted all black, that’s a lot of caffeine.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice muffled under his scarf, “Are you questioning my refined tastes?”

“Uh- no sir. That is not my intention. But, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

The boy pulls out his credit card as he darts his eyes around the cafe. Like he insists, you serve him his tiny cup of all black espresso, you even grimace at the heavy scent despite working with coffee for so long. He wasn’t kidding, he had gulped it down like it was nothing- your eyes widening at the sight. He smiled, his scarf still wrapped around his face. “I’d like another please.”

You eye him incredulously, “More? really?”

“Yes, that’s what I said miss..”

“Y/n. It’s y/n.”

“Your establishment is quite the place. You’ll be seeing me here often.”

Trying your best to smile at him, “I look forward to it.” You walk back to the counter, packing sweets for the next customer as you watch the boy gaze out the window. Even his posture seemed so formulaic due to the way he crossed in legs in a prim-proper way, dainty fingers stirring his half-full espresso shot. When you get around to the boy’s third espresso, your surge of confidence makes you lean down at him, “You asked my name, isn’t it right that I know yours?”

He slides his shades down slightly, his eyes a dark brown, “Oh, don’t worry y/n. You’ll be seeing plenty of me that you won’t forget my name.”

He places a large bill on the table, winking at you, “Keep the change, y/n. You deserve it for working so hard.”

He struts out the door, leaving you just as confused as you felt when he first walked in. Who was that? And why was he acting so mysteriously? Throughout the day, you hadn’t thought about him after being so busy taking orders and fulfilling them.

To your surprise, the same boy came the next day around noon. You could tell by his odd disguise that contrasted with his crisp, white suit- his voice in a lower octave than yesterday. He whispered, “I’d like another espresso and a croissant please.”

You typed up his total on the register, two girls whispering behind him in line. He sat at one of the tables before one of the girls could tap on his shoulder, her expression falling when he walked away. When you set down his cup, you eye him carefully, “If you want more espressos, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on.”

He rests his chin on his hand before yanking his scarf down, “In what obligation do I have to do that? Isn’t it called customer confidentiality?”

“Not if you’re causing a disturbance. You look so suspicious right now!”

A scowl is scribbled on the boy’s face, some pink hair sticking out of his dark bucket hat, “Do you have anywhere private?”

“Follow me.” You lead him to your back stock room, his proximity too close for comfort. His eyes dart from the front of the store and back to you, his hand ripping off his mysterious ensemble. The boy finally reveals his face, a beautiful one at that. The locks that sit at the top of his head curl on his forehead are a shade of bubblegum pink, his lashes accent his eyes attractively, and his cheekbones accentuate his boyish charm. The boy smiles at you, his teeth shining through his pink lips, “You can’t tell anyone that I’m me.”

You stare back at him, “Who exactly are you?”

The boy dramatically runs a hand through his pink hair, “You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

He sighs, “I’m Jaemin Na.”

You don’t catch on. Instead, you look down into space, catching a sight of Claudette’s magazine pile- a picture of a pink-haired boy on the front cover.

“Wait a minute-”

You grab the magazine hastily, holding it up next to the boy’s face, “Y-you’re Jaemin Na?”

He smiles brightly at you, “The one and only.” You rub your fingers against your chin, “Wait, what do you do exactly?”

Jaemin sighs at you, resting a hand on the wall near your head, “Listen sweetie, I’m the son of the Na family- consuls to the royal family of Versailles. I stay in the palace.”

“Ohh- so you’re a rich elitist boy?”

“Well- I guess you could put it that way.”

You scan him up and down curiously, “Well that explains the lame disguise. I’m sure girls would try to maul you. If it’s so much work, why don’t you just have one of the palace people make you coffee? Why bother coming here?”

Jaemin scrunches his nose, “Well I don’t appreciate the insult and I also hate to admit that no one makes coffee like you do- that’s why I started sneaking out and coming here. Don’t take too much credit though.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk, “For someone who sits on their butt in the palace all day, you sure drink a lot of coffee, you should see a doctor.”

Jaemin smoothes down the fabric of his white vest jacket before covering his face with the scarf again, “My taste buds and stomach lining are perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

Shoving his bucket hat over his eyes, he storms out of the shoppe- leaving you with an amused grin on your face. The next day, Jaemin came once again. You asked him, “one espresso shot coming right up.”

Your fingers nimbly move on the register’s keyboard, a hand flying across it without any thought. You bring Jaemin his espresso cup, setting it down on a dainty white saucer in front of him, “Here’s your black coffee of death. Enjoy.”

You swivel back around, only to be stopped by the sound of Jaemin’s voice, “Hold it. Not so fast.”

“What is it now?”

“I never said I wanted an espresso- it’s a lavender latte kind of day.”

You step closer to him, your eyes widened like disks, “But you didn’t stop me at the counter? You always get an espresso- all black?”

“Not today. Plus, you only assumed and never thought to ask.”

You resist the urge to slap Jaemin square in the face, he was acting like a spoiled, conceited child. You eye him sternly, “Are you going to waste that?”

Jaemin bats his eyelashes at you, swinging the fabric of his scarf over his shoulder, “Well I certainly am not going to have an espresso today. I take that as a yes?”

You feel your eyes roll back into your head, you’re surprised they don’t turn inside out. Grumbling, you march away with the espresso in your hand- dumping it into the sink drain as Jaemin smiles an amused grin. You come back to him, a menu in hand, “What do you want and make the choice good because I won’t do this.”

Jaemin raises his eyebrow at you, “Isn’t that your job? Customer knows what’s best?”

Scoffing, you smash your fist on the table, “Don’t do this Jaemin or you’ll regret it.”

The pink haired boy narrows his eyes at you through his pretentious sunglasses, “I’d like a lavender latte- make it oat milk. I don’t digest dairy well.” Heading back to the counter, you whip up the drink, layering a mint-berry compote and oat milk as you strategically place a lavender stem at the top of it. You stand back to admire the perfection of the drink, the purple gradient blends into a cloud of white. When you place it onto the table in front of Jaemin, he takes a sip of the drink as you wait for his reaction. He uses his index finger to motion you closer to him, your feet moving on their own.

“Well, how is it?”

A bright smile lights up his face, his white teeth gleaming between his lips, “It’s good but you need to come closer.”

You do as he says, his eyes flickering to your lips- you feel his breath on your face. Is he about to kiss you right now? He darts his eyes from your lips to your eyes. The fast-pace of your heartbeat skyrockets before it ends suddenly, Jaemin smacking his lips before whispering at you, “The oat milk could be a little less nutty.”

You break the tension, launching back from you, “Are you kidding me right now?”

Jaemin gives you a cheshire cat-like grin, “Yes but not to fear, I’ll still drink this since you worked so very hard on it.”

You raise your cloth rag at him, stopping your hand just before the crown of his head- your brows creased with distress. Before this, you had never dealt with such a difficult customer before. Your voice is laced with irritation, “Do you enjoy this?”

“Oh, so very much. I hope you don’t miss me, I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow.”

Grabbing his book sack, Jaemin heads out the door, leaving you alone to be irritated. Like he promises, Jaemin is back the next day. The whole evening after yesterday, you spent taking note of every trap Jaemin would set for you- there was no way he was going to get you this time. When he steps up to the register, you try to sound as polite as possible.

“Welcome to Claudette’s. What would you like to order?”

He nods at you, clicking his tongue at the same time, “Let’s go with the caramel frappuccino, no whipped cream or foam please.”

After he pays, you skillfully make the drink right in front of him, carefully measuring the correct proportions of every ingredient. He places his fingers on his chin, one hand on his hip in a taunting manner, “This is so fascinating to watch y/n. You’re truly the master of beverage arts.” You scoff, pushing the finished drink to him, “Try that.”

When he takes a sip, his eyes sparkle with pleasure as he visibly shudders, “Well, I am pleased to say that you have passed the frappuccino test except for one thing.”

“What now?”

“The straw is upside down.”

You groan, slapping a palm to your forehead, “You’ve got to be kidding me Jaemin.”

Before Jaemin can answer you, you hear a familiar voice from the back of the stock room and you feel a hand sit on your shoulder, “Are you satisfied with miss y/n’s services sir?”

You whip around to be met with Claudette towering above you, her lips graced with a fond smile. Jaemin clears his throat before answering her, “She’s doing great but she’s having so trouble accepting constructive criticism.”

You stare back at him, gritting your teeth, “What are you talking about? I just-”

Claudette pats you on the head, “Maintenant, maintenant petit pan, what do I say?”

Respectfully, you repeat after her, “Customer always knows best.”

Jaemin adds, “I was just telling her that the straw was upside down just so that she doesn’t do this to other customers.”

“Oui Monsieur! Learn from the customer, y/n, it’ll make you a better worker and person.”

Jaemin lets out a hearty laugh from over the rim of his maroon scarf, “Other than that, she’s great.”

Glaring at him, you look up to Claudette who’s smiling at him, “I see that you come almost every day monsieur, thank you for enjoying my shoppe. Merci beaucoup!”

He smiles back at her, “It’s because of y/n.”

You feel your breath hitch at your throat when you hear Jaemin’s words, how can he say things so casually? You want to believe he’s saying these things to get under your skin again, you can’t seem to predict the pattern of his ways.

Claudette practically jumps out of her skin, her hands clapping wildly, “l'amour est dans l'air! Y/n, you need a break right now- let this nice man take you out for some air.”

Waving your hands in front of you, you shake your head at your boss, “Claudette, please. I need to look after the shop in case of more customers and I-”

The older woman cuts you off, “Nonsense! You’ve been working too hard since I’ve been out! You’re done for today! Out!”

Claudette holds out her hand to you to hand over your apron, an amused smile on her face. After you hand it to her, you gather your belongings from the stockroom before breezing past Jaemin out the door. You turn back to Claudette for affirmation, she’s always trying to shoo you out when she thinks you’ve worked for so long. You don’t mind her motherly aura. It makes you miss your own mother. You begin walking down the street towards your apartment, your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Wait up! y/n!”

You turn around to be met with a huffing Jaemin, “Where are you going?”

Sighing, you say, “What does it look like? Home obviously?”

Jaemin holds up a finger so he can catch his breath, were you walking that fast? He says, “Why don't you spend the day with me?”

“Yeah, after you embarrassed me in front of my boss? No way, I’ll pass.”

Turning around, you continue to walk until Jaemin runs in front of you, holding his hands as if he’s going to entrap you if you try to make a run for it, “Please, let me make it up to you.”

You eye Jaemin skeptically, “Why? What would you get out of that?”

“Can you just trust me?”

Scoffing, you try to get more steps in until you’re halted by Jaemin once again, “I promise, if you spend the day with me, I won’t bother you about coffee or upside down straws again!”

You gaze at him, your eyes searching for some malicious sign. When you don’t find any, a smile creeps on to your face, “You better stick to your word Jaemin Na or else!”

The first several minutes of walking next to each other make you cringe from the awkwardness. You steal a glance at Jaemin who’s messing with the rim of his bucket hat, the accessory covering his eyes, “So, where are we going?”

He answers you plainly, “Have you been around the city?”

You rub the back of your neck, “I’ll have to admit, I haven’t been around much.”

He stuffs his scarf into his book bag, the sun too hot for the thick fabric, “No worries, I have a plan. Prepared to be amazed out of your mind.”

You let Jaemin guide you to the plaza of the Louvre, the glass pyramid reflecting the sunlight into a million rainbows. People stand in front of the water structure that it sits on, the water is like a pristine mirror that catches even the most subtle details. You had seen the Louvre in travel books and magazines but never in person, “Are we going to the Louvre?!”

“Nope, that can be for another day. I have something even better.”

Jaemin walks over to a man who stands by a red cart, they converse in basic french before the man hands Jaemin two wristbands. He puts his on, motioning for you to do the same. A big red tourist bus pulls over by the front of the Louvre, “All aboard the passengers! tous à bord du bus!”

Without a second thought, Jaemin takes you by the hand before hosting you onto the bus as you both dash up to the second story of the double-decker. You take a seat at the very front, Jaemin’s shoulder touching yours. You try to wave away the tingle you feel when he brushes against you, his cologne smells of fresh pine needles and mint. A skinny teenager dressed in a striped shirt wears a beret at the top of his head smiles at you, extending a fake rose to you. Hesitantly, you take it while smiling back at him.

“Bienvenue à bord! My name is Pierre and I will be your guide to your journey across the city of love, city of the la romance! Let’s begin!”

Within a few hours, you had already seen so much. You felt like you were on cloud 9 when you stood up on your seat as you passed under the Arc de Triomphe, Jaemin resting his hands on your waist to keep you stable. You don’t resist him. He watches you with adoring eyes, “Look like someone’s having too much fun!”

You look down at him, “How can you not?!”

The bus speeds over the Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris that crosses over the Seine, Jaemin pointing out the ducks that float on the banks of it. You laugh as Jaemin takes your rose, putting it in between his lips in order to make you giggle in which you do because he grimaces as a thorn pokes his lip. You swerve with the bus as the driver maneuvers it through Place de la Concorde, the spot where the French Revolution took place. When Pierre told you fun facts about Marie Antoinette, Jaemin would scream at the top of his lungs, his voice getting lost in a blast of wind, “Let them eat cake!!”

When the bus halts at the final stop, you descend down the stairs and off the vehicle- the cool weather sending a chill down your spine. You and Jaemin walk over to the Notre Dame and the Saint Chappele to keep shelter from the blustering winds, the stained glass windows making your faces glow with shades of blues and greens. You sit on a bench, Jaemin’s body pretty much pressed to your body as you both hold a candle between your fingers within the quiet church. Jaemin turns to you, whispering, “So what do you think of Paris?”

You chuckle at him, “Paris is the city of love right? I think I’m in love with Paris, when do we get married?”

Jaemin stiffens his frame, “We as in you and Paris or as in you and I?”

You hit his arm, “No silly! Paris! I don’t want to get married right now!”

Shaking his head, Jaemin laughs at you, tufts of pink sticking out of his bucket slightly. The hat covers less of his face now, at least you can see his eyes.

“What do you say, we get something to eat?”

“You’re right, I’m famished. All that exploring has made me ravenous.”

Jaemin wins at you, “I know just the thing.”

It’s about evening now, the sun starts to set with a shade of champagne and violet- the trees glinting a shade of vermillion green when you pass the numerous cafes and boutiques on the street. You both find yourself in a field under the Eiffel Tower, the structure staring down at you with regality. You feel as if the air in your lungs has been sucked out, blue lights blink along the lattice pattern of the tower- creating a luminescent effect on your vision. Jaemin nudges you with his elbow, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even realize he had been gone since you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful sight in front of you, your head fuzzy from how the gold and blue cut the painted sky. When Jaemin comes back, he sets down a blanket away from the other people- most of them couples- you avert your eyes from them. In his right hand, he holds a basket full of unknown goodies waiting to be eaten. You and Jaemin sit on the blanket before Jaemin reaches into the basket to pull out a multitude of things. He hands you a long baguette of bread before spreading out various shiny fruits, cheeses, and a bottle of blush cider.

“Did you really prepare this all right now?”

Jaemin smiles at you, his eyes softened, “I have my ways.”

For the next hour or so, you feel as if you don’t need any alcohol to feel drunk. You and Jaemin watch the dusk fade into a black sky, stars glimmering over the golden glow that surrounds you. You both nibble on pieces of havarti cheese or opt for a slice of bread as you talk to each other in hushed whispers. You had never done this with anyone before, it felt so easy, so light. You learn about Jaemin’s life as the son of the consuls and how exhausted he is to be expected of perfection every second of his life, how he’s had his freedom stripped from him since he was born. In turn, he listens to you when you talk about your life back home, how your parents almost cut off ties with you- thinking you were foolish to want to randomly move to Paris by yourself. You never regretted your decision after all. You say, “If I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Jaemin laughs, downing his glass of rose blush cider, “This is the first day that I have felt like myself in front of anyone- just me, not perfect Jaemin Na in front of the cameras.”

You nod at him, scarily aware of how close your fingers are to Jaemin’s on the plaid blanket, “Do you have a favorite part about Paris?”

He turns to you, his cheeks and bridges of his nose illuminated by soft golden light, “After living here all my life, I hate to admit that it’s gotten a bit boring. Now, I think that’s changed.”

You quirk an eyebrow up at him, moving your hand away as heat travels up to your cheeks, “And what has changed?”

You see Jaemin laugh to himself, “You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met. You don’t fall at my feet like the other elitists in my family- you’re not afraid to call me out and criticize me. I like that.”

You nervously laugh, “Thank you? I’m not sure what to say.”

Jaemin’s expression turns serious, his lips looking more prominent when he turns his face to you, “Then you don't have to say anything.”

Before you can register, Jaemin leans into you as his nose bumps against yours in a soft kiss. You pull away, boring your eyes into his before he scans your eyes for some sign of refusal. When he can’t find any, he molds his hand to your cheek, folding his lips over your bottom lip. Jaemin speeds up the pace by pressing into you further, a sound escaping your throat. You blush at the noise, Jaemin leaning his forehead into yours before sweeping a hair behind your ear, “Wow.”

Your bodies feel like they sing with electricity, Jaemin’s fingers hot on your skin as he pulls you into the space of his chest. Your ear is pressed to his heartbeat, “Do you hear that y/n?”

You shut your eyes at the quiet rhythm, “I hear it.”

You take it open yourself to edge your fingers on the rim of Jaemin’s hat, slowly taking it off him to reveal the pink shade of his locks- the soft tufts messy from the day. He watches you take off his sunglasses too, placing a hand on his neck while pulling him in for a fiery kiss. His eyelashes extend from his eyelids, framing his dark irises that reflect the Eiffel like swirling stars. He whispers to you, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

You nod at him, standing to help him fold off the blanket and carry the basket. The whole way back, you and Jaemin dance along the walkway of the Seine- to the beat of your hearts, to the beat of the acoustic guitar that echoes from a late-night cafe. Ending right back at your apartment, you don’t want Jaemin to leave just yet. He holds your hands like you’re a fragile porcelain, the warmth of him gentle and soothing. He leans his head against yours, pressing a kiss to the spot in between your eyebrows, “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it Jaemin?”

“This is only if you want to, don’t feel pressured. My parents are holding a masquerade ball at the palace tomorrow night. Do you want to be my date?”

You stare at him, a hand resting on his shoulder, “Oh, Jaemin, I’d love to go with you, there’s just one problem. I didn’t pack a ball gown when I moved.”

Jaemin’s expression is shocked as if he never expected you to say yes, “Really, you’ll come?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Don’t worry about the dress, I’ll take care of it.”

For a final time, Jaemin presses a firm kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow night y/n.”

“Goodnight, Jaemin. Today was perfect.”

“I’m glad. Now, go in first. I won’t leave until you do.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“Positive, goodnight y/n.”

In the morning, you wake up the sound of your doorbell ringing. Sleepily, you saunter over to your door, finding a neatly wrapped package on your welcome mat. Unfurling the paper, you hold the delicate satin of a scarlet red dress between your fingers, the softness making you sigh. It’s got billowing belle sleeves that are cuffed with pearls at the wrists, the train of it falls on your hardwood floors. You find a note at the bottom of it, “For the most precious girl, who’s beautiful even without this dress. -Jaemin”

You lay the dress agross your bed, the scarlet organza blending into a shade of fuschia as white sparkles cover the bodice. In awe, you can’t take your eyes off the dress- one thing was for sure, Jaemin had impeccable taste. You had gone to work with a pep in your step- you debriefed Claudette of all the details of seeing the city with Jaemin and how his eyes held every form of adoration. Neither of you had fallen so hard so fast before. You were tingling at the thought of it. Thankfully, Claudette let you off early so you could get ready for the ball, your head filled with the thought of dancing with Jaemin in a fancy ballroom.

Nighttime approached quickly, a jet black limousine had pulled up to the front of your apartment- Jaemin’s voice crackled through your phone speaker when you answered.

“I’m here y/n!”

“Be right down!”

You descended the stairs, your train dragging slightly despite holding it off the ground the best you could. When you came outside, Jaemin’s eyes met yours, his mouth agape from seeing the sight of you, “How is it so possible that someone can be so beautiful?”

Laughing at him, you hug his waist, “You need to stop with all these cheesy compliments, that’s what a boyfriend would say.”

Jaemin smiles into the hollow of your ear, pressing his lips at the shell, “I can make that happen.”

Suddenly, Jaemin pulls out a clear box. It holds a gold band, a white rose attached onto it. You let Jaemin slip it on your wrist before letting him whisk you away into the car. The whole car ride was full of hushed whispers, lips sealing stolen kisses, and bodies pressed together. Out of your time living in Paris, you have never experienced anything like what you felt with Jaemin.

Upon arriving at the Palace of Versailles, it was definitely a castle straight out of a fairytale. Fountains line the garden courtyards as different colored lights shine on the cars that line up in front of the palace, guests piling out of them. A velveteen red carpet was rolled out down the stairs of the entryway, giving off a glamorous effect. Extending his hand, Jaemin held out his arm for you to grab- both of you entering the palace. Over the top couldn’t hold a candle to the real description of how the atmosphere looked. Caterers dished out trays of hand towels and small crackers topped with caviar, desserts dusted with glitter in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. You whisper to Jaemin, “Is your life always like this?”

He chuckles, “Mostly. It gets boring all the time though.”

In the center of the main ballroom is a live band, musicians playing their cellos and their violins in sync with the music as guests dance in a flurry around the floor. You felt your heart sink. You were never taught to properly dance because there wasn’t a reason to learn back home. Jaemin feels you stiffen, “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Nodding slowly, you say, “I don’t know how to dance-”

“Relax, just follow my lead.”

Without a moment to breathe, Jaemin already placed his hand on your waist before guiding you hands to his shoulders. Like walking on air, you glide with Jaemin despite tripping over your feet for the first half of the song- you rest your chin on his shoulder, swaying. You two don’t say anything for a bit, Jaemin’s grip on your body feels secure.You’re interrupted when an older woman who resembles Jaemin taps him on the shoulder, “Honey?”

You feel Jaemin’s arms fall from you, hugging the woman you presume to be his: “Mother?”

“Honey, who’s this?”

Jaemin pulls you to his side, “This is y/n. I’ve been showing her around Paris.”

The woman smiles at you, her hand tucking back a strand that’s fallen from her black braid, “Please to meet you, has my son been treating you well?”

You take her hand firmly, nodding, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Na. Jaemin’s been wonderful to me, he’s been showing me around and telling me good things about-”

“Yes, that sounds great. Jaemin, I need you to come with me- there’s someone your father wants you to meet.”

“Can’t it wait until next week mother?”

Her eyes sharpen coldly, the warmth slipping out of her smile, “Do not disobey your father, come now.”

You hear Jaemin groan before he turns to you as he’s being dragged away, “I’ll be back. Do not move. I mean it- don’t.”

You nod at him confusedly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

You opt to take a seat by the tables where guests pile their plates up with various foods, your eyes watching Jaemin’s mother introduce him to a girl that’s a lot shorter than him, her eyelashes batting at Jaemin. They shake hands as Jaemin’s father and the girl’s father laugh, cheering their flutes of champagne as they converse. Immediately, you feel yourself rise from your seat when the girl launches herself into Jaemin’s arms, his face is riddled with surprise. She smiles up at him, whispering something inaudible as Jaemin’s mother teases them to kiss- Jaemin sternly staring at his mother. Getting up from your chair, you turn back into the nearest hallway, your black slumped against the wall. How could you have been so naive? Did you honestly think that Jaemin could sweep you off your feet like some cheesy romcom and then you’d fall in love with Paris’s it boy? It seemed inconceivable. Around the corner, you hear Jaemin’s voice- you start to run towards where you hear him- only to be met with the sight of the same girl pressing Jaemin up against the wall. Her voice sounds like a slither, “Little birdies are telling me you’ve been running around with some peasant girl that works at some dusty cafe. Didn’t you say you loved me?”

You continue to listen in on them. Jaemin holds her at an arms distance, “That was when I was 4 and didn’t know what the word meant. I don’t see you that way. Aleah, I don’t like you that way.”

She laughs into Jaemin’s shoulders, “Your mother has always adored my family- we’re destined from the start. Don’t turn me away, Jaemin.”

Jaemin shakes his head, “Y/n, isn’t some peasant girl. Just because she’s not like you and your family doesn’t make her a peasant.”

Aleah combs her fingers through Jaemin’s hair, “Sweet little Jaemin, that girl could never give you what I could. She’ll only bring you down. Face it, we’re to be betrothed soon- in the palace, side by side.”

When you don’t hear Jaemin protest or even say a word of refusal, you take off running. You don’t care that the ends of your dress are frayed now, your heels causing blisters on your feet. What felt like a dream has now transformed into a nightmare. You burst through the doorway of the palace, guests shooting you dirty glances when you tell the limousine driver to take you home. As the car dashes out of the courtyard, you hear Jaemin call your name on the steps while tears fall from your eyes. Paris has never looked so melancholy. When you arrive at the doorstep of your apartment, you glare up at the moon- the same moon that Jaemin had kissed you multiple times under. You sit on your stairway, crying into the lap of your dress as your hands fist the layers of fabric tightly. With a screech on the pavement, Jaemin flings himself out of another car- slamming the door behind him. You look at him, shaking your head, “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want-”

He doesn’t listen to your words when he wraps his strong arms around your sunken frame, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You collapse into the crook of his chest, your tears staining his dress shirt. Jaemin tilts your chin to him, “I’m not going to marry Aleah, I hope you know that.”

“What about your mother? She said-”

“I don’t care what she or my father says. I can’t marry someone I don’t like- I don’t love. Not for money, not for status. I won’t.”

“Jaemin, you can’t. You can’t sever from your family because of me-”

He raises his eyebrows, “Who says I’m doing it for you? I’m doing it for myself. I know what my heart says, I know that it chooses you. I’m not doing it for you.”

He takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckle, “I’m going to do it for us.”

When you try to say something else, Jaemin shut you up with a passionate kiss before eyeing you closely, “Let’s go rest for tonight.”

Letting it go, you nod at him. Jaemin picks you up, your dress covering his body as he unlocks your door for you before setting you on the comforter of your bed- your room lights are off, the scent of Paris air drifting in from your open window. The darkness invokes the calmness, you start to kick off the heels that are strapped to your feet. Jaemin sits on your bed next to you, “I’ve never seen your room before.”

His dark eyes scan the wilting peonies that sit on your desk and the ivory walls that surround you both. “Your room suits you.”

You let yourself collapse onto the bed, your head hitting the cool fabric of your blanket, “It took me a while to settle into it.”

Beside you, Jaemin lays down to watch you, his elbow propped up, “I should probably go soon.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“Can I?”

You chuckle, “That depends if you want to. Your mom’s probably wondering why you’re with a peasant girl.”

Jaemin clears his throat, “Did you overhear Aleah?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you want to spit out a string of insults about the rich, how they judge people based on money. For Jaemin’s sake, you don't. He parts his lips, “You know that’s not how I see you right?”

Nodding, you whisper, “If you did, I don’t think you’d be next to me right now.”

Immediately, you feel Jaemin hover over you, “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Your bodies burn like flames as you kiss each other hotly, Jaemin’s tongue gliding over yours. You grip his hair, slightly tugging on it so that he lets out a sound- your legs entangled with each other on the bed. Panting, Jaemin tosses his black suit jacket to the ground- you practically yank of his tie. Jaemin drags his lips down to the juncture of your neck, causing him to smirk when you gasp. You bore your eyes into his, “I need you to help me.”

Jaemin seems to understand when he reaches behind your neck to pull the zipper of your dress now, your chest exposed in front of him. In the dark, his eyes glimmer with adoration- his lips connecting with your own. Using your hands, you take his dress shirt off him to reveal his muscular body, his skin glowing under the soft moonlight. You smell the heaviness of Jaemin’s strong cologne, the scent makes you dizzy. By the end of it, your dress lays on the ground by your vanity and Jaemin’s clothes by your wardrobe as you press your cheek to his bare chest, watching him sleep peacefully. Jaemin has his arm on the small of your back, stroking your skin even in his slumber. You take note of how his pink locks are mussed and his eyelashes have a subtle curl from how long they are. Jaemin flicks one eye open, “Y/n? How come you’re not asleep yet?”

You snuggle deeper into him, “It’s because you’re next to me.”

“You’re right- I’m just that good- hey!”

You slap Jaemin’s chest, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, “That’s not why stupid!”

“Then what’s the reason?”

Without any hesitation, you tell him, “I like you and I want to be with you.”

“You’re a tad late y/n. I knew that already.”

“How? I’ve never told you that.”

“I can just feel it. You and I- we have this connection that I’ve never felt with anyone else. The only reason I come to that bakery isn’t only for the espressos. I want to protect you from harm’s way- even if that includes my own family. I just want to be there for you like no other guy can.”

Smiling to yourself, you reach up to pat Jaemin on the head only to have Jaemin’s hand catch yours, you whisper to him, “It’s only been a little while since we met?”

He sinks to your level, meeting your gaze before pressing a kiss to your eyelid, “That’s the beauty of liking someone. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. I just knew when I saw you.”

Giving Jaemin’s hand a firm squeeze, you press the curl of your lips to his knuckles. It makes him chuckle, his smile upturning on his cheeks. Once again, you shift closer to him. You both succumb to sleep, the low occasional honking of beetle cars and soft music from your neighbor’s window as your own Parisian lullaby- Jaemin wrapped in your embrace.

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fangirling-throughlife · 4 years

Text

So close, and still so far

Word count: 2517 words.

A/N. This is the first non-academic thing I’ve written in a year or so, so it might not be the best. Inspired by the song So Close by Jon McLaughlin and one of my favourite movie scenes ever, the dancing scene in Enchanted with Amy Adams, Patrick Dempsey, Idina Menzel and James Marsden. Comments are appreciated!!

“Peter Moore and Ella Lewis invite you to their engagement party, on Saturday 22nd August.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise, as Brian had told him about the engagement, but having the invitation in his hand made his heart stop. Peter and Ella had been a couple, The Couple of their group, ever since their high school senior year. Now that they both had graduated college, it was the logical next step. After all, Ella and Peter complemented each other. She was as organised as he was playful, she was as logical as he was spontaneous. They were the power couple, and they were so absolutely right for each other that it made no sense to avoid the unavoidable.

Still, Shawn’s mouth went dry, and for a moment he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. His best friend in the world was getting married. The person who knew everything about him, his rock, his muse. The girl he’d written every single song about. The love songs, the heartbreak songs and the hopeful songs. His world revolved around Ella Lewis, and she would never know it did.

As if life were mocking him, he heard his phone ring with the sound of her favourite song, Everything I Do by Bryan Adams. Shawn had to swallow twice before he was sure he’d sound normal.

“Hey there!” he tried to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Hi, Shawnie! I was wondering if you’d got the invitation, because almost everybody replied and you didn’t.” she sounded excited. Of course she did. She had just graduated top of her class, and now she was organising a party to celebrate her engagement to the love of her life.

“Yeah, just got it. I was about to call Andrew to ask if there was any problem with me going.” He lied. He knew that, in the writing process, he was mostly the one who organised his own schedule, so he could free that day without any problem. But he wanted to seem busy, for some stupid reason.

“Uh… Alright, I guess?” He could picture her nibbling her lower lip. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, but couldn’t you try and get the day off? It’s pretty important for us, and all our friends are gonna be there, and…” She was pacing now, he could hear her footsteps down the stairs. He was being cruel, he knew that. But he couldn’t tell her that he’d leave everything just to make her happy. He didn’t have a partner, and music was all he had. She couldn’t know she came first.

“I’ll talk to him, I promise.” He heard her low hum, and the click of a pen. “So, anyways, congratulations! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me though.” A text would’ve been nice, he added mentally. Just so he could prepare himself for the gruesome conversation that they were having.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been busy with some paperwork, and my final project and stuff, so I’ve been a bit out of it. This is honestly the first day I’m fully invested in this, so call yourself lucky that you’ve been the very first person I thought of!” Against his own judgement, his heart sped up, but the little mean voice in his head reminded him that she thought of him while organising her engagement party. He knew he was being ridiculous letting his hopes up.

“Lucky me!” He forced a chuckle. “By the way, congratulations on your graduation. I have no clue what your final project was about but I heard the guys say it was ground-breaking.” He tried to steer away the conversation from the invitation on his table.

“Oh, thanks! It wasn’t that big of a deal, truth to be told. Sheldon Cooper would’ve totally mocked me.” He rolled his eyes. There was no real person to criticise her work, so she went to fictional characters. “By the way, are you bringing a plus one? Camila, perhaps? Haven’t seen her in ages.”

Hearing her mention Camila felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“Um, I’ll have to get back to you about that. I don’t think she’ll be able to make it, though.”

“Erm… Okay, I guess? I mean, it’s not a big party, or anything. But I wanted to have it…”

“Controlled.” Shawn interrupted her.

“Well, yeah it comes down to that.” She giggled. “Hey, I’ve got to go. Peter’s family is coming over to have lunch, I’ve got to go check on him in the kitchen. Love you!”

“Love you too!” If only she knew how true that was, he sighed as he heard that she’d hung up.

Ella was a very dedicated person. Whenever she had an interest, or a plan or a goal, she was invested a 100%. Her engagement party was no different. That was the reason why she didn’t reach out to Shawn in the month prior to the party. She spoke to Vanessa, her maid of honour, and to Brian, who would be Peter’s best man, but her interactions with Shawn went no further than a couple of texts to check up on each other every couple days. He seemed busy, he never said much. Honestly, she was busy as well, so she didn’t dwell on it. That went on until three days before the party, at 2 a.m.

She would be lying if she said he woke her up. Her body wasn’t used to her new-found freedom, so she couldn’t sleep until past 2 or 3 in the morning. She spent those late hours, when Peter was already asleep, reading scientific papers, reading books or playing the keyboard. After spending so many late nights working on papers and studying, she felt like her mind was the sharpest when the world was asleep. And, suddenly, after almost a month of silence, Shawn was calling her.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asks. Being friends with Shawn for years, she knew that this could very easily be a breakdown. She closed the door of her study room so she didn’t wake Peter.

“I love you, you know that?” It was very clear that he was drunk. Very drunk.

“Of course I do, Shawnie.” Ella could hear him open a bottle of something, then knocking something over, and taking a big gulp. “Is that why you’re calling me? I’m not mad or anything, I was reading. But… do you know what time it is?”

Her words seemed to get lost and never reach the other side of the line. “You know, Kid in Love is actually about you. And so is Never Be Alone. And Imagination.” She was startled. She knew he had a crush on someone in their friend group, but she never imagined it was her.

“So… It was me you had a crush on in junior year?”

“And so are Because I Had You, and If I Can’t Have You, and Mercy…” He lost track of his own train of thought, because he went silent.

“Are you really saying you’re in love with me, Shawn?” Those words were difficult to speak out. He couldn’t do that to her.

“Do you remember when I was just the Vine kid and we were sitting in my room looking for a song to cover? And we kinda jammed to Everything I Do? I tried to tell you then. And when I got drunk for the first time because of just one beer and I kissed you? You started dating Peter a week later and I brushed it off.” Every word Shawn said felt like a dagger directed to her heart. Tears were threatening to fall, and she let out a silent sob. “It has always been you. You're with somebody I can't be. But I can tell that you're happy.” He started singing. “I know you and Peter are a perfect match, don’t worry. But I needed to get this out of my system, you know?”

At that point, she couldn’t hide the fact that she was crying. And Shawn heard her ragged breathing, which seemed to sober him up.

“Oh, El. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, very deeply sorry.” He started crying as well. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve kept it to myself for so many years, and I tell you now. I understand if you don’t want to see me ever again, if you hate me now. Oh my god, El. I hate myself so much now.”

As much pain as he was causing her, he was still her Shawn, her younger brother from another mother (by six exact months, she reminded him continuously). She had had a crush on him for a few months, back when he was writing Handwritten. Now she knew that those songs she hoped he wrote for her were actually about her. Knowing it didn’t change anything though. She was wearing Peter’s ring, because she was in love with him, because they balanced each other out. While Ella considered Shawn to be her little brother, Peter was her best friend, her soulmate.

“It’s okay, Shawn. I’m just shocked… Why… why would you keep that from me?”

“I’m so stupid, I was nervous you’d make fun of me and hate me. It’s okay if you do now. I mean, not okay, obviously, but I’d understand.” Another sob escaped his mouth.

“Shawn, I don’t hate you. You’re… you’re like my little brother. I just wish you would’ve told me sooner. I could’ve helped you get over me.” She let out a sad chuckle. “We’ll see if some of my friends from uni is your perfect match at the party, okay?”

Shawn couldn’t believe his luck. He was so drunk he wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning, yet she wasn’t mad at him. Peter could never know what jewel of a person he was marrying. What Shawn didn’t notice was that he was thinking out loud.

“If his words are any pointer to go by, he knows.” This time, her laugh was genuine. “Shawnie, go to bed. Sleep this off. I’ll see you at the party, okay? I… I’ll see you.”

Ella couldn’t bring herself to tell him she loved him. She honestly did, but it felt wrong to say it, now that he’d said he was IN love with her.

She looked at the clock. Half past two. The crying had been very tiresome, so she’d give sleeping a go. She entered the room on her tiptoes, but somehow, Peter sensed her coming in.

“Love… what’s the matter? I’ve heard you crying.” He sounded worried.

She didn’t even give it a second thought. The conversation between Shawn and her would remain private. Peter didn’t need to know. Hell, she wasn’t even sure Shawn would remember in the morning.

“It’s nothing. I was watching kitten videos.” She mentally facepalmed. It was probably the lamest excuse she’d ever given. But Peter just shrugged, patted on the bed and snuggled into her neck as soon as she laid down. “I love you.” Ella whispered. Peter was already sleeping, because he answered with a hum, just one beat too late.

On the day of the party, everything was perfect. Ella had organised it, so nobody was surprised. Everything, from the pins in her hair till the wine that was served, had been handpicked and controlled. She was a quantum physicist, after all. She liked details and perfection. The guests started to arrive with gifts, and she greeted them all like a perfect hostess. Peter was chatting with his grandmother when she saw a familiar set of curls by the open door. The smile on his face as he approached her could mean two things: he had let go of the whole situation or, most probably, he had forgotten all about it.

“Hey, El. Nice party.” He greeted her with a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, Shawn. Peter’s over there,” she pointed to him “and the rest of the group are somewhere inside. Probably close to the snacks.” She chuckled. “I’ll catch you guys later.” With that, she turned to greet her cousin and her nephew. “Hi! Thanks for coming.”

Even though Ella enjoyed being the perfect hostess, half an hour later her mouth was so dry she needed a glass of something. When she approached the table, Shawn was pouring himself a glass of white wine. “I’ll have one of those as well, Shawn.” She half asked-half demanded. He nodded, acknowledging her words, and gave her his new glass. It wasn’t until he was done pouring a second glass that he looked at her.

“Look, El. I’m sorry about anything I said last Wednesday. I don’t remember all of it, but I’m pretty sure it included me confessing you my…” Ella quickly cut him off.

“It’s alright. I’ve thought about it and, honestly, I feel sorrier for you, for not being able to help you, than for the situation.” Shawn nodded solemnly.

“So… water under the bridge?” Instead of answering, Ella simply hugged him, and she felt Shawn’s chest relaxing.

Ella closed her eyes, happy that they had finally made amends. Suddenly, she felt Shawn humming a song that sounded familiar. She focused on the music that played softly from the stereo. So Close by Jon McLaughlin. She hadn’t realised that it was still on the playlist. She loved the song, but it didn’t seem suitable for an engagement party.

So close to reaching that famous happy end. Almost believing this one's not pretend. Now you're beside me, and look how far we've come. So far, we are so close.

Just like in the movie, her favourite movie, he whispered the words in her ear. They weren’t dancing though, just merely swaying in place.

Ella felt sorry for Shawn. She didn’t understand how she could have missed the song when she was grooming the playlist to engagement party-appropriate songs. She hoped Shawn didn’t take it to heart. He was still her best friend, and she hoped that nothing would ever change that.

For Shawn, hearing that song, at that exact moment, was bittersweet. Somehow fitting. He was saying goodbye to the love of his life, who considered him a brother, who was marrying the love of her life. He was holding her close; he could pretend for a moment that he was hers. But he knew it was a lie, a hopeful thought. He would always love her; he would always be there for her.

As the final chord of the song died out and something else, much happier, started to sound, they started to become aware of their surroundings again. They let go of each other, and they smiled as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“I love you, Shawnie.” “I love you, El.”

They both walked towards their friends, sharing a secret that nobody knew. Ella’s eyes were gentle, and her laugh was genuine, and nothing had changed between them. And Shawn knew that was the first step to heal. His smile was bright, and he was having fun. Ella decided to let him be. She’d tell him they were moving some other day.

#shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #so close #enchanted #shawn mendes imagine

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angelguk · 6 years

Text

» i wish i missed my ex - jungkook scenario

Jeon Jungkook - BTS

words - 18k

genre - college!au, friends to lovers!au, fakeboyfriend!au, fluff if you squint real real hard, smut, angst i think(?),slowburn

warnings - alcohol consumption / oral sex (fem receiving) / dom!jjk / edging / vulgar language / crazy exes?? (it’s not what u think) / attemped sexual assault - not in detail

soundtracks - mahalia, i wish i missed my ex / summer walker, girls need love / sam smith ft normani, dancing with a stranger

A familiar series of pings emitted from your phone, breaking through the peaceful slumber you’d slipped into. Weekends were the only days you could sleep in and therefore you really cherished the moments were you hid underneath the warmth of your blankets and ignored the world. So, rightfully, your eyes snapped open with a disgruntled groan floating from your lips, a wave of irritation hitting your still sleeping brain. You reached out for the device, hand slapping at the bedside table in vain until your fingers wrapped themselves around the cool metal of your phone.

Seven messages from your ex awaited your gaze. Sunghoon had a tendency to call when you ignored his messages for long but you couldn’t be bothered to read through them right at this moment.

With a groan of annoyance, you tossed the phone onto the bed covers and crawled right back into the cocoon of warmth you’d formed. He really didn’t get the hint that you didn’t want to speak to him anymore, did he?

It took a total of two minutes for you to fall right back asleep which was immediately interrupted by blaring sound of your phone ringing. Without a glance at the screen, you grabbed it and hit the answer button.

“What do you want?” The statement came out harsher than you intended, but he deserved it for calling you at ungodly hours on the weekend.

“Well sorry to wake you up, princess,” Responded a familiar voice that instantly dissipated the furnace of anger that had begun to burn within in your chest.

“Jungkook?” You asked, sneaking a peek at your phone.

“The one and only.” You could hear his shit-eating grin from here.

“Ugh! Why are calling at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“It’s ten, Y/N! It’s basically the afternoon.”

“Ten on a Saturday is equivalent to eight on a Monday, you dimwit.”

“Stop making excuses for your lazy habits. Get up – the early bird seizes the worm, don’t you know.”

“You’re probably in bed yourself. And I have nothing to do today so I want to stay in.”

“First of all, I’m sitting on my bed and I’ve gotten ready for the day, so you’re wrong there. Also, you do have shit to do, darling. Remember we have a get-together brunch in an hour at Roots and you have a shift at Yin & Yang.”

Shit. You had momentarily forgotten about the bi-weekly brunches you and the boys had scheduled in order to still spend some time together amongst the chaos of university life. No one had missed a single one and you didn’t want to be the first one to do so. Your job at the local café was also important and if you had missed a shift your manager would have had your head on a stake.

“Fuck, thank you! I would have forgotten my shift if it wasn’t for you, bro.”

“Only the shift?” He teased.

“How could I ever forget our legendary brunches? How bad of a friend do you think I am?” You said, lying through your teeth.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen you in a while, and with the whole thing with Sunghoon-”

“Don’t please. It’s too early in the morning to bring up unpleasant things,” you whined, rolling out bed with difficulty.

“I know, but remember I’m here to talk about it. If you want to.” He responded, deep voice tender over the receiver.

You groaned in response, the memory of the texts you’d received earlier resurfacing. “Can we talk about this later? If I don’t get ready now then there’s no way I can make it to brunch on time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Came a hasty reply. You paused for a second, mildly thrown off by how quickly he agreed to brush it off, almost as if he was embarrassed that he’d asked in the first place.

“Jungk-”

“See you later, alright.” Before you could stop him, a forlorn dial tone met your ears.

♡

As you expected, you were the last one to arrive at Roots. You could hear them before you even saw them, Namjoon’s baritone voice colliding with Jin’s contagious laughter. You trotted towards the table, ignoring the eyes of loathing the servers at Roots gave you, a smile already settling on your face.

“The Queen herself has arrived,” announced Jimin as you squeezed yourself into the booth beside Taehyung and Namjoon. Your favorite seat beside the window had already been snatched up by Hoseok, who greeted you with a knowing bright smile, so you had to make do with being stuck between two massive men.

“I have to bless you mere mortals with my presence every once in a while,” You bantered back, “It’s part of my royal duties.”

“Glad you could spare the time, your majesty,” Snorted Taehyung. “Now we can finally order. I’m famished.”

You elbowed his ribs, feigning a stretch.

“AW! That hurt.”

Choosing to ignore him, you glanced at Jimin, “The usual Chimmy.”

“I thought we all agreed that nickname was banned,” He responded pouting, while waving down a vaguely irritated server. Your group was the loudest on the buzzy Saturday mornings but you justified it by buying half the menu for breakfast.

“When? Is this because Jeongyeon calls you that now? Your girlfriend can’t have it, we trademarked the nickname years ago,” Said Taehyung.

“Shut up before I tell them what Irene calls you in during sex.”

His dark brows went up, the statement catching the attention of everyone at the table.

“You wouldn’t,” There’s a dangerous tone to his deep voice, a glint of warning dancing in his brown eyes.

Jimin smiled, cocking his head. The sliver rings on his fingers glittered in the warmth of the sunlight, almost challenging Taehyung as he said, “Would I?”

“Okay, now you have to say it,” Interrupted Jungkook. You hadn’t glanced at him properly since you’d entered the restaurant but now his presence caught your full attention. He’d chosen an over-sized black hoodie to wear, rolled up to his elbows to reveal the rivers of cerulean blue that ran underneath his pale porcelain skin. He’d been stricter on his gym routine and it was clearly starting to show. But you were more distracted by the way his faded blue ripped jean clung to the muscles on his thighs, the fabric nearly ripping at the seams as it attempted to stretch itself over his thick legs.

“We already know it’s something kinky,” Interjected Yoongi, who’d been languidly observing the interaction between the two boys with a small smile of amusement of his face.

Taehyung face was a picture of bewilderment as he hurried to disprove Yoongi. “No! Hyung! I’m not like that!”

“Please, save the innocent act. I nearly had to burn my computer when I found your search history.”

“Where is this conversation going?” Interrupted Namjoon. “Have we even ordered yet? I would like to eat my meal without the images being suggested right now in my head.”

“Exactly! All of you need to go to church.”

“That reminds me of the pastor and nun role play you and Irene did last week,” Commented Jimin, a chuckle erupting from his lips.

A collective gasp of shock vibrated the table. Taehyung stumbled over his words to reject the idea that Jimin had thrown in your faces.

“Where’d you get a priest costume from?” Hoseok inquired, now as invested as everyone else. “Only Namjoon had one for last Halloween – oh.”

“Taehyung, please tell me you didn’t have sex in my Halloween costume.” The pain was evident in Namjoon’s voice and you couldn’t help but stifle your laughter as you watched the ashamed glance Taehyung sent his elder.

“Well, technically, I took it off before we-”

“Taehyung!”

You dissolved into a fit of laughter, along with everyone else apart from Namjoon, who looked as if someone had shit right on his favourite pair of shoes and Taehyung, who was blatantly ignoring Namjoon’s disgusted gaze.

“Can we please eat now? Where’s the food we ordered?” questioned Jin, who looked as tired as Namjoon did. Coincidentally, the servers began bringing out the regulars you’d ordered and within moments everyone had closed their mouths and focused on the array of food that had been dumped before them. You spared a glance at Jungkook as you tucked into the plate before you, a speckle of curiosity sparking in your mind as you recalled the phone call from this morning. Jungkook had never backed down from a potential argument with you, he found it amusing to push you and you found it satisfying to prove him wrong. Yet, for some reason he’d backed right off when you told him to. It was out of character and it was making you feel strange.

And all because of your ex-boyfriend too. You didn’t have any feelings left harbouring for him but you and Sunghoon had been together for a fairly long time. Maybe that was why he had cheated. But by that time you didn’t even care anymore, it just gave you an excuse to walk away from him forever.

It was as if Sunghoon could tell you had briefly thought about him because your phone went off again. You glanced at the screen, finding a simple question mark from Sunghoon joining the plethora of texts from this morning that you had pointedly ignored. Hoseok must have noticed the flicker of annoyance that went across your face because he asked, “Who was that, Y/N?”

“Sunghoon,” You replied, his name leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. A collective groan sprung from the boys around you, apart from Jungkook who abruptly stopped stuffing his face.

“He’s still texting you?” Asked Namjoon, concern on his warm features melting your heart.

“Hasn’t gotten the message that I’m over him yet. He’s been texting me like crazy and it’s starting to get on my nerves,” You responded, grabbing the cell phone. “Might as well see what the hell he wants.”

It was as if everyone else was holding in their breath as you opened up your notifications, eyes skimming through the messages he had sent you. The first few were pathetic, focused on asking if you were alright and if you had eaten, but the next ones caught you attention.

“He invited me to a party.” The confusion you felt was clear in your voice and when you glanced up, your friends surprised facial expressions matched your own.

“What? Man, Sunghoon is one weird person,” Murmured Hoseok.

“I don’t know, maybe he’s trying to rebuild your friendship? Look at the bright side perhaps?” Remarked Jin.

“Close your mouth, hyung,” Interjected Jungkook. “I don’t think Sunghoon wants to mend the relationship, he’s a jerk after all.” There was a hint of irritation colouring his voice that you nearly missed.

You read over the message again, a feeling of hope blooming in your chest. Even if you could never be close friends with Sunghoon again, you were open to perhaps mending the relationship you had – hating him took too much of your energy and you were over given him a room in your heart, even if it was filled with hate. “I don’t know, maybe Jin’s right. I might go for this thing.”

“If you’re going, then we’re going with you,” Came a stiff response from Jungkook.

You shot him a curious glance but it was immediately disrupted by Yoongi adding, “Won’t Jiyeon be there? She’s close with that scumbag.”

“Why would that be a point of concern? She’s Jungkook’s girlfriend,” You responded. Didn’t Yoongi already know this?

The curious glances that met your own made you feel unsettled.

“Jungkook, you haven’t told her yet?”

“What? What happened?”

Before Jungkook could say anything to you Taehyung answered for him, “Jungkook dumped Jiyeon like last week.”

“No. What the hell? Jungkook I thought you loved her?” Your surprisement was hard to contain.

“People change and so do feelings, Y/N,” Came his tired response. “It’s a long story.”

“Well then start telling it. We have all morning.”

♡

It was past eleven when you pulled up to Sunghoon’s house, Hwasa, your best-friend, in tow. The doors and windows of his home vibrated in time with the bass of the song playing through the building, the sounds of laughter and chatting melting into the thick melody. People were scattered along the entrance, chugging beers and laughing, faces illuminated by the rays of warm amber street lights. You couldn’t make out anyone you really knew outside, so you decided to walk into the building, wrapping your black leather jacket tightly around your frame. The endless loud thrumming of music greeted your ears, deafening inside the house. Hwasa shot you a look of distaste as she stumbled in behind you, clearly irritated by the loud obnoxious music. Coupled with the stench of weed coming from somewhere in the house, this was not Hwasa’s idle type of party. You didn’t mind it but even things like having to watch people basically fuck each other with their clothes on as you stumbled through the house was distasteful. You still hadn’t spotted Sunghoon.

The frown on Hwasa’s features immediately melted away when she noticed a familiar face that made both of you feel comfortable in this atmosphere. “Y/N! HWASA!” Yelled Hoseok from a couch across the room. He stumbled over to the two of over, evidently already intoxicated by the way his legs struggled to keep him steady as he walked. “Y’all are late!”

“Late,” Scoffed Hwasa, pulling Hoseok into a warm hug. “We’re not late – party doesn’t start until we arrive Hobi.”

He grinned at the two of you, a smile lighting up his red-tinted face. “Fair enough. The rest of the guys are at the back by the pool. Sunghoon is loaded as hell. You should have married his ass and then filed for divorce, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, sidestepping Hwasa and Hoseok who had become attached at the hip. “Sorry to disappoint you but I can and will make my own money, Hoseok.” He didn’t even bother to give you a reply, mouth already whispering jokes into your best friend’s neck. It was clear that Hwasa and Hobi we going to disappear together the moment you walked away so you shot a knowing wink and moved towards the pool area, as directed by Hoseok.

You had always known Sunghoon came from a wealthy family. He never hesitated to offer to pay for something, though you often adamantly refused, and he was quick to shower you in material gifts. But you didn’t date him because of his hefty pocket, at some point in your life you actually liked Sunghoon, his smile, his stupid jokes and his adorable cockiness. You would have stayed with him, but being who he was, he really had to ruin everything you had built together by sleeping with some first year girl. At first you were hurt because of being cheated on, but then your emotions began to be fuelled by other telling you that you needed to be hurt and at Sunghoon was trash or what he did. You didn’t disagree with those points but after a month, you were over hating him with every fibre of your being. Sunghoon had messed up but he had also given you a chance to dodge a bullet that could have destroyed you if you allowed yourself it get even more invested into the relationship. So you were excited for tonight, hopeful that Sunghoon and you could move on from the event that had marred both your histories and work towards a neutral relationship. You hadn’t been labelled a strategic diplomatic by your friends for no reason.

Said friends had overtaken the chairs beside the pool, a game of beer pong already set up. Everyone was there apart from two people, Taehyung and Jungkook. With a second glance you spotted Taehyung with his sliver mane in a tight embrace with Irene, a bile of disgust rising within as the memory from this morning’s brunch conversation resurfacing. You quickly averted your gaze from the couple, locking eyes with Namjoon who shared your grimace of pain.

“I had to go home and burn that costume,” He sadly stated as you plopped down beside him. He handed you his cup filled with chased vodka.

“Sorry about that. Taehyung is a piece of work,” You replied, glancing at the contents with distaste. “What is this shit? I want it straight Joon.”

He gave you a weary gaze. “Remember the last time you took a bunch of shots straight and you ended up regurgitating your entire stomach.”

You flinched as the memory of puking your guts out resurfaced. That had probably been the worst night of your life. So you shut your mouth and chugged the remainder of the drink, the failure warmth of alcohol slipping down your throat dampened by the flavour of grape juice.

“You’re really going to sit there and drink chased shit the whole night?” Questioned an incredulous Jimin, who already had a tight grip on a bottle of Jameson’s.

“Some of us like having working livers, Chimmy,” Retorted Yoongi, who was drinking something similar to yours.

“This is free alcohol. I repeat, free. So why not just drink everything and regret it tomorrow,” He replied.

You glanced at Namjoon, mouth parched and already craving more liquor. You wouldn’t consider yourself a seasoned alcoholic like Jimin but once you started drinking you always wanted to drink more, and the fact that Namjoon was chasing all your drinks was making you feel like a child who had her mother chaperoning her at a party.

“Jimin’s right. This is free, might as well drink what I like. Where’s the barcadi and tequila?” You asked, feeling the disdain of Namjoon and Yoongi burning into the side of your head.

“Do I have to remind you how badly that turned out last time again?” His frustration was evident in his voice.

“Relax,” You replied, hitting his arm gently. “I’ll pace myself.”

“I told Jungkook to grab the barcadi for the game like ten minutes ago, I have no idea where that boy went,” Jimin commented, swishing the remainder of the liquid in his bottle idly.

“I thought we all agreed to only play beer pong with vodka, because oh you know, taking clean shots of barcadi will fuck you up faster than Taehyung and Irene will get naked on the couch right there,” Namjoon retorted, his gaze getting increasingly concerned.

“Bold of you to assume that vodka won’t get me just as fucked up, hyung,” Retorted Jimin, who was looking more inhabited by the second.

“I think you might need to take a break, hyung.” Jungkook’s familiar voice rang from behind you. The twist you did to meet his face caused you a mild form of whiplash but it immediately rewarded when your eyes fell upon his broad chest, covered with a thin white shirt. Your eyes trailed upwards, finding a glittering sheen of sweat coating his tan skin, probably from being inside the warm building. His mission to get alcohol was fruitful because he was clutching a bottle of Bacardi in his grip, causing rivulets of blood vessels to casually rise to surface, resting beneath his soft skin.

For some reason you were beginning to be overly aware of his presence. And it was beginning to bother you. You swiftly averted you gaze, forcing your eyes to lock on the empty cup in your hands. But you could still feel the warmth of his presence as he brushed past your seated figure, plopping himself beside Yoongi. Maybe that wave of warmth wasn’t coming from him, it was probably just coming from the alcohol sitting in your gut. Right? Right.

“Jungkook, leave me alone. I’m perfectly capable of handling my shit,” Jimin snapped back. His reply was followed by him taking a generous swing from the nearly empty bottle in his hands.

“You want to mix whiskey and rum? Are you asking for alcohol poisoning?” Yoongi commented, his tone filled with disdain.

“I’m asking for a good time,” Jimin replied indignant. “Something you clearly don’t know how to have.”

“If you vomit, you’re cleaning yourself up,” Yoongi retorted, getting up from his couch. “I’m going to go hang out with some sane people. Bye.”

The three of you watched him leave, you were vaguely perplexed because a majority of the time Yoongi would join Jimin’s alcoholic antics. You turned to Namjoon, eyebrows raised in question to find a knowing smile on his face.

“He’s going to find some girl he’s been talking to. It’s kind of cute,” Namjoon stated.

“Blah, blah, everyone is getting some tonight apart from me and all of you so we might as well just drink ourselves shitless,” Jimin interrupted, abruptly getting up to the grab the bottle Jungkook was indolently holding. “Shots, anyone?”

♡

Maybe being around Jimin with alcohol in the mix was bad for your health. Actually, it was detrimental to your health and that was proven by the fact that you’d just spent fifteen minutes puking your guts out in a bathroom. Luckily, you had felt it coming before you had chucked your dinner all over yourself in the middle of the party.

You forced yourself off the porcelain floors, vision as wobbly as your knees and stumbled towards the sick to clean your mouth. A couple of vigorous rinses go rid of most of the smell and taste of Bacardi rising back up your throat but you could still taste the bitter acrid flavour at the back of your throat.

It was probably time for you to leave.

Hwasa had already disappeared with Hoseok and you’d lost most of the boys after Jimin and shoved a good portion of rum down your throat.

So your wiped your mouth and cleaned up the minor mess you’d made in the bathroom, exiting with single thought of leaving Sunghoon’s house unscathed. The simple goal was proving to be harder to accomplish with every passing second.

You had reached the staircase that led downstairs when you stumbled right into him.

“Y/N? Shit, are you alright?” Sunghoon’s grip on your wrists was warm and familiar and you unknowingly leaned into it, weak body hoping for some sort of support.

“No. I’m really not. I was just about to leave so if you could call an Uber for me-”

“Come on. Let me give you something to change into,” He said, ignoring your simple request. Something in your stomach made you want to pull away but Sunghoon had already turned you're already and with a comforting had on the small of your back he was leading yours towards his bedroom.

The path was familiar, you’d been lead towards it often enough but with every heavy step you took a boulder of dread settled in your gut. It only worsened when you heard the definite click of a door shutting behind you.

“Sunghoon, I-”

“Here, sit down. Give me a second,” He said, sitting you down on his plush black comforter. The last time you were here it was a pastel blue. For some reason, the colour of his bed didn’t sit well with you and fuel to the flame of premonition burning in your chest.

A folded grey shirt was placed in your place accompanied with a soft smile on his face. “Do you need water or anything?” “No, no, I’m fine. Sunghoon, thank you but I really need to leave.”

“You could stay the night if you want. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be travelling alone in an Uber right now, Y/N,”

You paused, fingers digging into the cotton fabric of the shirt he’d given you. A swift glance in his direction instantly caused a turmoil of forewarning rose in your throat.

“Thank you but I’m leaving.”

Before you could hoist yourself off the bed, Sunghoon’s tight grip was yanking you back down.

“You never replied to my texts. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I didn’t think I was going to come Sunghoon,” You carefully replied, your eyes flickering down to the pale hand wrapped tautly around your arm.

“But you changed your mind?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I should probably leave now.”

He ignored you, his grip loosening as it slid down your arm. His fingers entangled themselves around your wrist, gently grazing against your skin which suddenly felt cold and clammy.

“I haven’t seen you in a while and I just want to say something before you go Y/N.”

There’s a pause that makes you feel like you should just bolt out the door before he can continue speaking. Coupled with the rising waves of nausea, you weren’t ready to handle whatever he was about to spout out of his mouth.

“I’m really, really sorry for what happened. I-I never meant to do it or hurt you, Y/N. Really. I feel like shit every time I think about what happened.” He sounded remorseful but his apology was falling on deaf ears. You’d already moved on because by the time Sunghoon was sleeping around behind your back, you’d slowly fallen out of love with him. It still hurt when you found out but you’d pushed back the emotions a long time ago.

“It’s okay, Sunghoon. I’ve moved past it. You should too.”

“No, it isn’t-“

“Sunghoon, its fine. I’m over it and honestly, I really need to go home right now.” Another wave of nausea was clawing its way up your throat, threatening to spew itself all over Sunghoon’s clean sheets. You didn’t want to listen to another word from him because deep down you knew were this was going. He was acting remorseful to make you feel sympathy for him and then he was going to try and trap you back into his web of lies. You’d been through it before with your exes and you were tired of the act.

“At least let me drop you. It’s late,” He sharply retorted, a trace of irritation in his tone.

You whipped his hand off your body and jolted upright, the abrupt movement immediately causing your head to spin. Your head felt heavy and your feet were unstable as you stumbled towards the door.

“Bye, Sunghoon. I’ll show myself out.” Your hand had just touched the cool brass knob when a heavy pair of hands slammed down on your shoulders, pulling you right back into his hold with a force that knocked your breath right out of your chest.

“I never said you could leave.”

“GET OFF ME! FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!” Your words were accompanied with erratic thrashes of all your limbs; your feet kicked at his shins, elbows slamming into the ribs enclosing you. But Sunghoon held you tighter, twisting your figures away from the door as he pushed you towards the bed. The rhythm of your shoes banging against his wooden floorboards beat alongside the sound of your heart slamming against your chest.

You hit the bed hard, the weight of his body above your pressing you into the sheets. Your screams were muffled by the fabric falling into your open mouth but you’re still struggled against his firm grip, twisting and squirming away from him as much as you could. The sharp press of his knee against the back of your thighs halted most of your movements and within seconds he was squeezing your wrists together behind your back.

“Sunghoon, please stop. Get off me, please.”

Your plea went unheard because the hand not holding you down was slipping up the back of your shirt. Your throat tightened at the feeling his skin against yours and you tried to get away, only to receive a hard press of his knees onto your thighs.

The blood rushing in your ears blocked out the sound of the door softly opening.

“Sorry, but have you seen – GET OFF HER RIGHT NOW!”

The immense relief that washed through you as Sunghoon was hauled off your body was indescribable. It took you moment to put yourself together, lungs gulping in air as you pushed yourself upright. Your head still felt as if you’d taken a hammer to your skull but you steadied yourself, vaguely registering the sound of scuffle behind you.

You turned around to find Jungkook slamming Sunghoon’s head into the ground.

It bounced against the floorboards with a thud that echoed in your head. His hands were wrapped around Sunghoon’s neck and they were red with how tight he was holding him. It took you a moment to register that the choking sound was coming from Sunghoon.

“Jungkook! Stop!” You lunged forward, arms trying to pull Jungkook away from Sunghoon before he murdered him. “Jeon! Stop it!”

His eyes snapped towards you, dark with rage but his grip reluctantly loosened. In one swift motion he rose from the floor, taking the opportunity to kick Sunghoon in the gut. Without sparing a glance at your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook extended a hand towards you. You gingerly took it, rising as he supported your body. Without hesitating you feel into his warm, head burrowing itself into the soft fabric of his shirt.

You breathed in the familiar comforting scent of Jungkook as he led the both of you out of the room. But a comment from Sunghoon halted your tracks.

“So you’re fucking him now? I always knew you were. Fucking slut. You act like I was the only one cheating but everyone knew that you were sleeping with him the whole time too.”

Jungkook made a move to turn around, you could feel furnace of rage burning within his chest ad you wanted to let him go so he could pummel Sunghoon in the face but your fingers tightened onto his shirt, forming weak fists that gently pulled him back.

“Leave it. Please can we go? I feel like I’m going to-“

The world before you turned grainy, blurry spots of black flashing in your eyeballs as your knees buckled below you. You didn’t even register the flutter of your closing as collapsed right into Jungkook’s arms.

♡

Sunlight filtered through half open curtains, the warm rays landing right onto your face. You reluctantly cracked open your eyes, squinting in the glare of the morning sun. Your mind was still sleeping, a low thrum of a headache pulsing against your skull. But you were more focused on retreating underneath the sheets tucked around you. The bed you were in warm and soft, caressing your skin as you furrowed deeper into the sheets.

The first thing that you noticed was the taste of liquor and acid clinging to every crevice of your dry mouth. You swiftly glanced around the room, looking for the water bottle you usually stored near your bed. Your eyes never landed on the object, instead they shifted to the floor where you found a lone pair of black boxers crumpled on the bedroom floor.

Somebody shifted next to you.

You were instantly on high alert, careening away from the figure huddled next you as your eyes flashed around the room, trying to register to your location.

The underwear had just missed a laundry basket, which was adorned with a familiar looking pink plush but you couldn’t remember where it was from exactly. Across the room sat a brown desk, littered with papers and water bottles. Above the desk was an Over watch poster of Widowmaker. You only knew the character because it was Jungkook’s favourite-

“I know you’re awake.”

“Uh? Yes I am,” You replied, hastily pushing down the sheets you burrowed yourself in to find a wide eyed Jungkook observing you. His brown hair was tousled, as if his fingers had racked through the strands until the stood upright on their own accord. His skin looked pale and dry and even from here you could smell the faint lingering scent of alcohol.

What exactly happened last night?

Maybe he could see your mind wandering away because he dragged you right back, his tone careful as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes? Why? What happened?” Your mind was searching through the records of the previous night, trying to link together the moment you lost consciousness and how the lead to you sleeping soundly in Jungkook’s bed. It didn’t seem like you’d done anything else but sleep because both your clothes were still clinging onto your sticky sweat covered skin. Unless, you’d put them back on?

“You,” He sounded incredulous, “You don’t remember last night.”

“Not entirely – oh. Oh.” Everything hit you at once.

“Fuck. Are you sure you’re alright?”

You stayed silent, reliving the feeling of Sunghoon holding you down with ease or how his head and neatly cracked against the wooden floorboards when Jungkook had shoved his head into the ground. Your heart was racing all over again and your hands felt clammy as you scrambled out the sheets, heading for the bathroom you knew you would find.

Vomiting on an empty stomach was unpleasant but you couldn’t stop yourself from violently retching into the toilet. You heard the patter of Jungkook’s bare feet hitting the floor as he followed you, watching silently as you ejected half your guts out.

You leaned back, steadying yourself against the porcelain toilet, your hands tremoring uncontrollably. For some reason, you wanted to laugh. Your tears were heavy behind your ears but they wouldn’t fall.

“Here, drink this.” A water bottle was nudged into your hands and when Jungkook realised you weren’t lifting it towards your mouth, his own fingers softly wrapped themselves around your shaking hands and pushed the bottle towards your dry lips.

“Rinse and spit it out,” He gently instructed, a hand coming to rest against your back.

The silence that followed was only broken when you got up, shaking Jungkook hand off your own and dumping the rest of its contents down your throat.

“Do you want to talk about?” He asked, trailing after your figure as you left the bathroom and wilted onto his bed.

“No. I really don’t.” Your voice sounded dead even to your own ears.

“At least report him or something,” Jungkook retorted, leaning against the bathroom of the doorway, a concerned frown marring his face.

“So they can do what? Tell me it was my fault for being in the room alone with him and incredibly drunk. Just leave it.”

His eyes narrowed at your bitter response, fits involuntarily curling up. “So you’re just going to act like never happened?”

“Yes.”

“You’re just going to let him walk away?”

“He never touched me-”

“But he hurt you, he held you down! Y/N, please if you don’t report it, I will.”

When you glanced up to meet his gaze the pure rage that burned behind his usually warm brown eyes caught you off guard. “Do whatever you want, Jungkook.”

“So you’re giving me permission to smash his face in the next time I see him.”

The statement made you crack a half-hearted smile but by the look on his face you knew he met it. The way his hands had wrapped themselves around Sunghoon’s neck drove shivers down your spine because you knew if you hadn’t pulled him off he might have killed him.

“Just don’t go to jail for manslaughter,” You tiredly replied.

“No promises.”

“How did you even find me last night?” You suddenly questioned, aware that if Jungkook hadn’t walked in at that moment things could have ended horribly.

His hand awkwardly rose to rub at his head, a tinge of rose tainting his cheeks. “I- Jimin said he saw you going to the bathroom and you looked really sick. I don’t know. I got worried so I went to look for you.”

“You got worried? About me?”

“You’re my friend, Y/N. Of course I got worried, everyone knows how low your tolerance is.”

You laughed, the sound feeling foreign in your hollow chest. “Uh, thanks though. For last night.” He’d unwittingly come to your rescue and he’d taken you home without thinking twice about it.

“Don’t mention it. I’d kill anyone for you, you know that right?” You didn’t miss the intensity that flickered across his eyes. And it warmed something in your heart.

“Yeah, I know,” You murmured back, suddenly interested in the navy fabric of his bed cover.

“There’s something you should know though,” Jungkook continued, shifting uneasily.

“What?”

“I had to carry you out last night and Sunghoon was screaming a bunch of shit. Everyone kind of heard and now most of the campus thinks we’re dating. Or having sex. Or something.”

You cocked your head curiously at him. “So what’s the problem with that? We know we’re not.”

He blushed, eyes landing on everything in the room but your figure. “Uh – I – Never mind.”

“Just say it.”

“I... I just thought that maybe we could use that to our advantage,” He sputtered out.

“How?”

“Well, neither of us are looking for a relationship right now, and maybe we could use the rumour to get our exes off our backs?” He suggested, still not looking at you. “You don’t have to say yes right now, maybe think about it? And it would be nice to have people back off on me right now so maybe you could help me out with that?”

“You want me to be your personal cockblock?” The idea sounded ridiculous even to you. “Jungkook we’re in college, just tell people no if you don’t want to sleep with them.”

“No! No. I don’t mean it like that,” He responded, moving to plop down the bed beside you. “I meant, maybe we could just fake date for a while until we’re ready to go into new relationships? You don’t want to be with anyone right now, right?” He turned to you, expectant. You nodded because you actually didn’t want to enter anything new with how messy your recent relationship had become. “See, exactly. I don’t want a new relationship right now too. So, we could just use this rumour to make people think we’re together and take our time to recover from our fucked up exes and then move on to other people.”

“You don’t think that’s even a little bit strange?”

“We don’t have to actually do couple stuff or make out. We just have to spend more time together. Is that a bad thing?”

You thought about for a second because he was right. But at the same time, you didn’t want to enter some false relationship just because you couldn’t get your ex to leave you alone.

In the distance your phone pinged.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it,” You replied, getting up to grab the device. When you clicked it open, a string of messages from Sunghoon awaited you. Your throat instantly tightened, a lump forming that had your choking. With quivering fingers you clicked through your contacts to block his number.

“I’ve changed my mind,” You quietly said, catching Jungkook’s attention. “Let’s date.”

♡

The coffee singed your lip, still scalding hot. You ignored, pushing past the burn to swallow the contents of the cup that Jungkook had just placed before you. He was seated across from you, hair neatly styled in waves that contrasted greatly with the messy bed hair you’d had the privilege of seeing earlier. His face looked brighter after your conversation you’d had this morning and the warm glow that caressed his cheek added to the effect.

You still felt a little odd from last night and it didn’t he that you were currently wearing Jungkook’s shirt. The fabric was extremely soft against your skin. You knew he had a sensitivity for fabrics but for some reason that fact that you knew the shirt belonged to him made your skin prickle. He’d offered you his shower, a change of clothes and free coffee. Jungkook had always been generous when it came to you but something about this made you feel off.

“Is it okay?” He gently inquired.

“Yeah, it's fine.” The coffee tasted slightly worse than what you were used to. Working at the local campus café had made you coffee tastes persnickety. But it helped soothe the headache that had appeared as a result of last night’s shenanigans.

He smiled, rose lips curving warmly. “Still can’t compare to Y&Y?”

“I’m loyal to my people, Jeon,” You retorted, fingers toying with the white napkin that had accompanied the coffee. “So, what exactly are we going to do?” Maybe that was causing the unnecessary amount of nerves that were wrecking through your body. You’d landed in a situation that you never thought could happen and the uncertainty of its consequences was eating away at you.

“We don’t have to do anything in particular,” He responded, voice feathery as if he was afraid of saying something that would hurt you. “Maybe, just go out together sometimes. Alone. Are you okay with that?”

“We spend a shit ton of time together already, Jungkook,” You said pensively. “People are going to see right through it if we don’t do something romantic.”

“Maybe you could wear my sweaters? I mean you’re already wearing my clothes right now.”

You rolled your eyes. “What about grand gestures? Something sweet and sentimental that will surely knock your ‘‘girlfriend’’ off her feet?”

“I’m not buying you flowers - unless you want some,” He hastily responded.

“Do me a favor and by my food instead,” You replied nonchalantly, sparing a glance at the café doors as it tinkled open.

Your day was just about to get worse.

Jungkook didn’t notice you watching the girl that just came in, a sour look spoiling her beautiful features as her eyes shot all around the café as if she was looking for someone. When they landed on you, you hadn’t anticipated the glare of pure loathing that she gave you. You’d know Jiyeon briefly due to her relationship with your friend but she was always placated and sweet, you’d never seen this side of her and quite frankly you were terrified.

Jungkook kept on talking, still oblivious to the furious stomps of his ex as she made her way to your table in the corner. But he was quickly pulled from his thoughts when she grabbed at his shoulder, sharp nails digging into a shirt and surely making a mark on his skin.

“Hey, baby. I’ve been looking for you,” Her voice was saccharine sweet but it made you watch to gag. It seemed poisonous as it permeated the once calm air that was electrified with tense in her presence. “We need to talk,” Her eyes flickered in your direction, narrowed as if she was willing your existence out her vision.

“No. We don’t need to. We’ve spoken enough,” Jungkook responded, voice clipped as he pried her claws of his shoulder. “I told you to stop calling me that. We’re not together Jiyeon.”

“You’re leaving me to go sleep with that whore?” She sounded hysterical but you had no sympathy for her. Instead, you wanted to take the nearest sharp object and jab into her delirious skull.

“Who are you again?” You asked, voice blasé, eyebrows raised.

“His girlfriend, bitch.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” You calmly snipped back. “I’m his girlfriend now.” You relished in the way her skin flushed with rage, ignoring the smug look that Jungkook’s face had adopted as he gazed at you. For some reason acting like this was surprisingly easy.

“You’re sleeping with everyone in that squad. You’re not him, you’re just a slut that he’ll dump soon. Jungkook always comes back to me,” Her voice was rising by the second, capturing the attention of oblivious patrons. In your peripheral vision, you could see an employee and a manager whispering together as they watched your table with growing concern.

“Jiyeon, shut up. We’ve been over long enough and you need to get over it.”

You’d never heard Jungkook sound so harsh, and for a moment when her face crumpled in dejection, you felt pity for her. But when your eyes met, you could see the anger flaring within her and you could tell something unpleasant was about to happen.

The hand of an employee pulling her away and requesting her to leave halted those course of events in their path. But even as she marched away, her eyes stayed on you.

“I think I may need a bodyguard soon,” You commented.

“I’m your bodyguard now. If she touches you just tell me.” Jungkook seemed unfazed, fingers tapping away at his screen.

You looked towards the manager, who was still warily watching your table. “I think we should leave, Jeon.”

“Yeah. I have a study group to catch soon. Jin is asking everyone to come over tonight for dinner. You’ll come right?” His wide eyes were boring into your own, brown and bright as he awaited your response.

“Free food at Seokjin’s? How could I ever say no?”

♡

“So…” Jimin said, chopsticks picking at slices of pork. “Does anyone have an announcement to make?” You curiously watched him glance at Taehyung’s direction, eyes glittering with mischief. Taehyung, on the other hand, looked disinterested, more focused on stuffing food in his mouth but that quickly changed when you heard Jimin’s foot come in contact with Taehyung’s shin.

“What!” He snapped, catching the attention of everyone else at the table.

“I said,” Jimin reiterated, “Does anyone have an announcement to make.” His eyes wiggled suggestively at Taehyung who was looking beyond flabbergasted.

“If this is about Taehyung’s sex life, save it. I actually have an appetite for once and I want to enjoy my food,” Yoongi remarked, not looking up from his bowl.

“At least I have a sex life,” Taehyung retorted. “Did you even get the number of that girl yet hyung? Or does she still not know you exist?”

“Watch it before I shove my chopsticks down your throat,” Yoongi snipped back.

“This is getting off topic,” Jimin whined.

“What are you even talking about Jimin,” You questioned, motioning at Hobi to pass the bottle of soju that Jimin was hogging at his side.

“You know what I’m talking about. The person who’s meant to making an announcement is you.”

You froze, and so did Jungkook beside you, his usually bouncing legs coming to a startling standstill.

“What…What are you talking about?” Your voice sounded tiny even to your own ears.

“Ugh. I’ll do it for you. Jungkook and Y/N are dating.”

The cluttering of metal hitting bowls and chopsticks snapping at each other for the final cuts of meat came to an abrupt halt.

You mouth fell open as you searched for words to explain yourself. You pointedly didn’t look in Jungkook’s direction because it would immediately give you away. For a split second you wanted to laugh. Your friends actually believed that you and Jungkook were dating. Ridiculous.

“Actually,” You said, breaking the momentary cloud of silence that had befallen the group. “We’re-

“Yes, we’re dating,” Jungkook said, cutting you off. His hand came to gently rest on your knees, giving you a small squeeze. “It’s still pretty new so we wanted to keep it quiet for a bit.”

“Finally,” Namjoon remarked, starting to eat once more. “Glad to see you grew some balls and asked her out.”

What?

Hoseok must have noticed your shocked face because he gave you a mischievous wink. “Jungkook has been crushing on you since you first met, Y/N. Don’t be so surprised. We even made a bet to see how long it would take for him to ask you out. I lost because I guessed with the first year.”

What…

“And that means Taehyung owns me because I guessed by the third year,” Jimin proudly stated, jabbing his chopstick in the direction of Taehyung. “Pay up.”

“You should have waited one more year,” Yoongi muttered. “I would have won there.”

“Why are any of you making bets on a person?” Soekjin inquired, voicing the concerns that were ringing in your head. “Jimin focus on not getting an STI, please. I heard there’s an outbreak of pubic lice on the campus and I bet you already have it.”

“If I have it you have it too, hyung. I borrowed your underwear last week.”

“I’m going to poison your food next time,” Soekjin simply stated.

“Um…” It just fell out of your mouth. Nothing that just happened made any sense in your mind. They’d just accepted the idea of you and Jungkook dating, suggested that they’d predicted it and immediately moved on like it didn’t matter. You didn’t know how that made you feel.

Jungkook suddenly pulled you closer, mouth dropping down to your ear. “We have to pretend around them as well. Soekjin has a big mouth and it’ll all be to waste if word goes around that it’s fake,” He whispered, voice grazing against the skin of your neck. Your body involuntarily responded, drawing towards him as shivers trailed down your spine.

“Please. I have faith in both of you. Don’t become like Taehyung,” Namjoon pleaded. “Save it for the bedroom.”

You snapped away from Jungkook, body shivering from the sudden lack of heat that he had enclosed you in. Your eyes fell on the floor and you knew were ears were burning because of how warm your head felt. It didn’t help that you feel Jungkook’s gaze on you. You felt your gaze wandering to his hand clasped around your knee, acutely aware of the feeling of his touch. You tore your eyes away, trying to ignore the silence that had overtaken the group once more and the feeling of Jungkook on your skin.

Luckily Taehyung broke the trance you were slowly slipping under by saying, “All of you are just jealous that I have great sex.”

♡

University was utter hell. The workload was kicking you in the ass and it didn’t help that the members of your group project were slacking. So now you had to do all the group work as well as your regular homework. University kids were worse than high school kids when it came to group projects.

It had been a while since you last saw Jungkook. In fact, it’s been a while since you last saw anyone. You’d been copped inside your shared apartment with Hwasa, focusing on completing all the tasks that had been dumped on you. So you were pleasantly surprised when you bumped into you “boyfriend” as you were leaving the campus after a, particularly stressful quiz.

“You look like shit,” Jungkook snorted, easily fallen into step beside you. “When was the last time you slept?”

“What a nice way to greet your girlfriend,” You snapped back, trying to shuffle the pile of textbooks in your arm and carry your heavy backpack without breaking the laptop inside. “You’re one hell of a charmer.”

“Relax,” He replied, hands reaching out to grab the books from your hands. “But for real when was the last time you actually slept well?”

“I couldn’t answer that question even if I wanted too.”

“You need to take time for yourself, Y/N,” Jungkook muttered, concern colouring his voice. “Are you free this weekend?”

“Yeah,” You replied, “For once I am.”

“Great. You haven’t left your house in over a week so we’re going for a picnic date.”

You snorted. “A picnic date. Seriously.” “Is that not a cute date idea?” He hastily replied, a tremor of nervousness coloring his tone. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no. It’s really cute. I just didn’t expect that from you. I thought we were just doing simple dates at the café or something.”

“Oh. Would you rather do that instead?” He was looking at you, trying to decipher your reactions.

“It’s a bit much,” You muttered.

“A café date is fine,” Jungkook hurriedly continued. “We can meet at a café if that’s what you want.” But the idea of a picnic date was also extremely tempting, especially because you’d never gone on one before. By now you had exited the campus ground and were closing in on the turn you needed to take to get back to your apartment. You stopped, Jungkook stumbling behind you, and collected your books from him.

“Thanks for holding them. The picnic date is fine. Just text me the details and what I should bring. Got to keep up appearances, right? See you around!” You said. You had to leave now because you had a shift at the café later today and you needed to utilize whatever time you had in between to get your work done.

Jungkook watched you go, lower lip caught between his teeth and eyes forlorn. You had missed it but Jungkook had anticipated at least walking you home or something. He kicked at the ground, your figure disappearing around the corner before him.

“Yeah, see you.”

♡

“Are we really drinking sangrias in the middle of the park?” You asked, incredulously. You watched Jungkook pour out the drink into little plastic cups from a water bottle he’d stuffed into his backpack. Jungkook had only texted you the time and location for your picnic date but you still felt obliged to bring something, so your kimbap rolls sat next to the fried chicken Jungkook had brought along with various other foods. You were little bit surprised by Jungkook’s cooking abilities but he sheepishly admitted to only buying the fried chicken and then bribing Soekjin into cooking the rest for him.

“Stop asking questions and enjoy your free alcohol,” He retorted, handing you a cup.

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped from your throat, the sound making Jungkook glance up. His eyes were shimmering behind the bangs obscuring his face a small grin on his face.

You took a sip from your drink, wine and brandy greeting your mouth like a warm hug, leaning forward to swipe the hair out of his eyes.

“You need a haircut Kooky.” Your fingertips grazed against his forehead, dragging themselves gently against the soft skin there. His eyes fluttered closed, leaning into your touch without hesitation. For a moment you admired him; the way his dark eyelashes brushed against his under eyes, the soft feeling of his brown hair against your touch, the way his skin had flushed when you’d touched him.

And then you deviously flicked a finger hard against his forehead.

“OW!” His yelp of pain was drowned out by your laughter, a surprised offended look clouded his brown eyes. “What was that for?”

“Bringing alcohol into a public non-drinking space,” You breezily responded.

“You’re drinking it!”

“I am. But I was offered so I’ve committed a lesser crime here.”

“You’re infuriating,” Jungkook commented, grabbing a cup for himself.

“And you love it,” You mindlessly commented, basking in the warm glow of the sun above you. The picnic date was a good idea after all.

“Yeah,” He muttered, mouth on his cup. “I do.”

The afternoon was spent eating and laughing. Jungkook was one of your favourite people to talk too for a reason, he always made you feel at ease and being around him was just comfortable. Time passed quicker than you thought it had and soon enough, the both of you had demolished the food you’d packed. Jungkook watched you drain the last droplets of sangria down your throat, a glazed look in his eyes.

You had flopped back onto the gingham picnic mat, a steady buzz thrumming in your veins from drinking half a bottle of sangria. His eyes were still on you as he followed your motions.

“What?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook replied back innocently. You could hear the tremor in his voice, probably from ingesting just as much alcohol as you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” You pushed.

He signed and rolled over, back against the earth and eyes skyward. “Do you remember the first time you fell in love?”

Your eyes widened at the question, mind digging through your memories to pull out an answer. “Yes. I do, why?”

“Do you remember what it felt like?”

You couldn’t help but smile, a memory of Jaemin resurfacing. Young love was something indescribable; every waking moment you spent with him was intense and full of passion and when you weren’t around him your heart ached with longing. “It was like,” You paused, recollecting your words. “It was like realizing that I there was someone else on earth that I would do anything for. I felt like I was learning how to give every part of myself away. I just wanted them happy and satisfied all the time – even if it brought me pain.”

There was pregnant silence after you spoke, the air between you filled with unsaid words you couldn’t decipher. Jungkook was eerily silent, his eyes glued to the sky above him.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” You asked, hoping to ease away the tense atmosphere between the two of you.

“Yes,” He croaked out.

“What was that like?”

He took a deep breath, air slipping past his rose-stained lips. The cool afternoon breeze blowing his hair away from his eyes so you could see the way they glimmered as he spoke. “I’ve never wanted the best for someone else so badly in my life. I’ve never thought about someone every moment of the day so much. I wake up thinking about her. I got to bed thinking about her. Even if – even if she doesn’t want me the way I want her I just need to be a part of her life. When we don’t see each other for too long I feel like I’m suffocating. When I do see her I feel like holding my breath in her presence. I’m so afraid of doing something wrong because I don’t know if I live without her.”

Your tongue was heavy in your mouth as you said. “So, why aren’t you with her? Why are you here with me?”

His eyes closed, a look of pain racking across his features. When he opened them again his gaze was empty, as if he had willed away the emotions he’d briefly spilled out to the world.

“I don’t think she loves me the way I love her.”

“So tell her,” You replied indignantly.

He shook his head. “It’s too late – I don’t think she’ll ever love me back.”

For some reason, you weren’t ever able to shake off what he said from that day on wards.

♡

Taehyung kept glancing at you from over the counter.

It was late in the afternoon and you had melted into the plush fabric of the couch of Namjoon’s shared apartment. You and Jungkook had been invited over for a mini study session and dinner. Your “boyfriend” was seated beside you and you had unconsciously thrown your legs over his, a laptop situated on your lap as you tried to type out an essay that just was not coming together. Taehyung’s looks were not helping your futile efforts, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking up every time you felt his eyes flickering between the two of you. Namjoon and Hoseok were working on a project beside Taehyung but at least their presence wasn’t infuriating because they were occupied with work. Taehyung, on the other hand, has made it his job to gaze at you as if your skin was peeling off your body. It was when he looked up for had to be the hundredth time that you whipped your head at him and snapped in irritation, “What do you want Taehyung?”

The man in question just smiled, a sly look glazing over his warm chestnut eyes. “Nothing.” But from the way it slipped from his mouth, you knew he was lying.

“Just say it. I’ve got work to do and you’re distracting me.”

“It’s really nothing. Ignore me. My mind is just wandering.”

“Hopefully not in the gutter,” Namjoon uttered, the glasses on his nose slipping forward as he gazed down at his laptop.

“We’ve discussed this before. If you want good sex then just go out there and get it,” Taehyung retorted.

“Hyung! Close your mouth. Some of us are busy,” Jungkook replied, voice irritated beside you.

“Fine. But let me ask something first. It’s what’s on my mind, Y/N,” Taehyung snapped back.

You sighed, cracking your tense knuckles as you stretched your arms out. “Go ahead.”

“How’s Jungkook in bed?”

You know during sit-coms when a character says something so absurd and out of place that everyone else is just left in shock as a record scratch plays in the background. Yeah, that was one of those moments.

“Hyung, shut up.” Jungkook’s body has tensed beside you, amplifying the shock that had reverberated through your chest. The two of you had obviously not had sex because this relationship was a fraud but they didn’t know that. And for some reason Namjoon and Hoseok were looking at the both of you expectantly while Taehyung just sat there, enjoying the mild flare of panic on your face.

“Um…” You searched the thin air for an answer. What were you even meant to say? It was great? He could do better? None of your business?

Jungkook was silent beside you, eyes avoiding your helpless gaze. But it also seemed as if he was holding his breath, the same apprehension and nervousness that you noticed last night in his room slithering between the two of you.

“Well I haven’t seen you limping yet,” Hoseok curiously commented, eliciting a choked sound of shock from you. “Have y’all fucked yet? Jungkook bangs his girls within the first week.”

“No, I don’t,” He indignantly replied, voice lilting upwards. The three men seated on the kitchen island exchanged a look that obviously meant Jungkook was lying. “Besides, she’s different,” He mumbled, the quiet statement causing a jolt of emotion to run through your chest.

“Ohhh, she is,” Taehyung replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I will choke you to death,” Jungkook retorted eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Leave him alone Taehyung,” Namjoon commented, his attention back on the assignment before him. “It’s not like you and Irene had sex in the first month of dating.”

“Correct. It was on the first day.”

The amusement that overtook your heart as you watched the look of disgust settling on Namjoon’s face as Taehyung continued to ramble was short lived. Jungkook nudged at your arm, capturing your attention as he leaned closer.

“Spend the night in my room? Everyone thinks we’re saints.” His voice was calm and soft as it slipped over your shoulder and into your airs, causing a shiver to trail down your spine as your fingers curled up, a feeling of yearning blossoming in your veins. You wanted to run them through something, drag them against something, touch something.

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice came was fragile, his presence making something in your throat close up.

When he smiled you swear your heart did a back flip. Why? You had no idea. And if you did, you were not going to acknowledge it.

“Okay baby,” He said louder. This time you knew it wasn’t for your benefit but for the people surrounding you. This thing wasn’t real after all. And for some reason, whenever Jungkook was close to you, you kept on forgetting that.

The power Jungkook has over your body resurfaced like an ugly snake later that evening. After dinner, he’d taken you by the hand and led you away from your rowdy friends who kept throwing suggestive glances and eyebrow wiggles at you as you left. It worsened every time you looked at him as you walked towards his apartment, which wasn’t far from Namjoon’s. You thought Jungkook would tell you it was okay to leave once you were out of their sights but he kept a warm gently grip on your hand as you meandered into his familiar apartment.

He gave you the bathroom to change, chucking a large t-shirt at your head as he fumbled with the speakers. The music eased the awkward tension that had infiltrated the space between the two of you, only for it to reappear when you climb into his bed.

You pulled the sheets around your torso, forming a cocoon to calm your beating heart as you heard Jungkook strip his clothes off behind you.

When you felt the bed dip with his weight your throat closed up.

It was quiet at first, your sense overly aware of the gap Jungkook had left between the two of you. He was eerily still, the comforter moving softly with the rise and fall of his best behind you. Then something snapped inside him because he twisted around to face you, bare chest pressed against your back.

“I can’t sleep like that,” He murmured, soft voice permeating the moonlit air.

“Yeah. Neither can I,” You reassured him. Having Jungkook so near but feeling so far at the same time was making something ugly twist in your chest.

“Do you – do you mind if we cuddle?” He sounded hopeful, breath grazing the back on your neck.

Every nerve in your body was reacting; from the press of his bare skin against your own back as his chest rose and fell, to the feeling of his voice caressing your skin as he spoke. You wanted to wrap him around your body and never let go.

“No. I don’t mind,” You whispered into the night.

He sighed heavily, releasing a breath that you never knew he was holding, arms instantly pulling you into his chest as his arms came to rest atop your own. You felt your skin prickle with goosebumps as he nudged his head into the crook of your neck, a content sigh escaping his lips.

His fingers found themselves idly tracing patterns across your exposed arms. “Goodnight,” He whispered into the skin of your neck.

“Goodnight,” You replied, your heart constricted in your chest.

You didn’t sleep at all that night.

♡

The mid-term break was right around the corner. You weren’t the only happy person on campus. The air buzzed with excitement as people huddled in groups, planning where to go, which parties to attend, who they were going to try and sleep with.

It had been nearly a month since you and Jungkook had established your false relationship. You hadn’t seen Sunghoon since that night at his house and Jiyeon had vanished since the fiasco at the café. But maybe you had been ignoring the world due to the workload that had been dumped on you. This had been your busiest term so far but as the end drew closer you felt a deep sense of satisfaction because you had tried your best at everything you could do and your grades were reflecting that.

So when Jimin had mentioned that someone was throwing a party this weekend and asked if you were coming with Hwasa, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You deserved to have a good night, free of deadlines and bullshit.

And you were going to go all out too.

Jimin had started you off with chased shit, weary eyes watching down everything in mere minutes. You hadn’t been aware of it but Jungkook was glaring at him the whole time which was why Jimin was pacing you. But at some point your overprotective boyfriend had disappeared into the night, leaving a very impressionable Jimin with a very persuasive you. This obviously resulted in two very intoxicated people egging each other to drink more.

Your streak of drinking was only interrupted when Namjoon pulled you away, a concerned look on his face. For a moment you thought it was about you and you already had an elaborate excuse on the tip of your tongue but you instantly swallowed it when he asked, “What’s wrong with Jungkook?”

“What? What do you mean? He was fine when we came here,” You replied, eyes flickering as you tried to pinpoint his location.

“He’s not here,” Namjoon sighed. “He’s in the living smoking – and he never smokes unless he’s going through shit. Did you guys have a fight?”

The shock must have been clearly painted on your face because Namjoon rolled his eyes and gestured to the direction of the living him, gently pushing your forward. “Whatever it is, sort it out. He gets into a weird place when he smokes weed.”

You nodded, feet acting on autopilot as the stumbled forward. You bypassing people who were devouring each other’s faces in the hallways, your fingers digging into your skin as you moved. Jungkook had seemed fine that night. He hadn’t acted out of character so what was bothering him?

Your eyes were attacked by a heavy cloud of smoke as you stepped into the living room, the smell of weed sinking into the fabric of your clothes instantly. You didn’t mind smoking but this was on a different level. Bongs were stationed in different corners of the room, groups of people huddled around them as they took turns with lighters. In some groups, people were passing joints around. They lay languidly, their eyes half-closed with a look of utter peacefulness and bliss on their faces, mouth upturned in lazy smiles. It didn’t take you long to find Jungkook, you just had to peer behind the curtain of smoke obscuring your vision to find a frowning young man, a burning blunt in his fingertips and a frown etched upon his face.

“Hey! What’s up?” The words felt clunky coming out of your mouth as you plopped down beside him.

The look he gave you made you feel like crawling away. His eyes had become crimson, half glazed and narrowed as he glanced at you.

“How much did you drink?” He responded, voice eerily monotone alongside the rhythmic beat emitting from the speakers.

“Not a lot,” You slurred out.

He sighed, balling up a rolling paper in the hand that was free of the joint. “Don’t you ever learn your lesson?”

“What are you talking about? Why do you look so down? Why are you smoking?”

He snorted. “What. Am I not a free adult who can you what they want? Why are you drinking when you know how fucked up you get when you do?”

You blinked. Jungkook had never spoken too you like that. Ever.

“What’s with the attitude?” You snapped, feeling the urge to clock him on the head hard.

“I’m just tired,” He replied, voice despondent.

“That’s not an excuse to be rude.”

“Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be around you right now.” He looked away, raising the smoldering joint to his chapped pink lips. He took a long drag, eyes fluttering closed as inhaled deeply. He kept the smoke in only letting his mouth gently fall open when he was satisfied. You watched with an open mouth, unable to formulate any words. Jungkook had never told you to ever just leave – you had known this boy for nearly four years, you had spent a night in his room and now he was telling you to just leave.

You got up abruptly, anger simmering in your veins. “I’ll leave. If that’s what you want,” You hissed out, stomping away from him.

With a mind clouded with anger, your receding figure did not notice the look of painful longing etched on his face. He tore his eyes away, another drag of smoke slipping into his lungs, his heart thrumming in agony against his ribs.

You found Jimin and Taehyung easily enough. Your mood had been ruined by the brief encounter with your supposed boyfriend and now you were just craving any source of alcohol to wash away the anger Jungkook had risen within you.

Maybe it was a bad idea to take so many shots but it didn’t matter to you at the time.

Making the ache in your heart dissipate mattered more.

♡

Jeon Jungkook never knew he could hate someone just as much as he loved them. There was something about her that just drew him closer all the time and yet she could never see what he felt for her. Not even in a fake relationship. So how was he ever going to come forward and tell you he’d fallen in love with you the moment he’d seen you smile? And he heart had become yours the first time he heard you laugh? Or that he would turn the world upside down just to make you happy?

And it wasn’t like he was unlucky when it came to girls. He had always had someone around, whether it be for a casual fuck or a shallow relationship. But never you. You were different. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make you realize that he was here for you no matter what.

At this point, he didn’t know whether to give up at this point.

Jungkook sighed, mind slowly lifting from weed-induced haze that he’d sunken into. But his heart didn’t lift up, staying despondent in a cloud of melancholy.

Maybe it was better to just end this false thing no. It was hurting him more than he wanted to admit because even if you weren’t really his then at least he could pretend. But having something so near in your reach yet never being able to touch it was shattering his heart into shards.

Jungkook had left much earlier than he normally would have. Seeing your face was becoming more of a personal form of torture instead of eliciting the usual rush of delight he would feel whenever he was around you. He didn’t miss the curious glance Namjoon and Soekjin had shot in his reaction when he had stumbled towards the door but he couldn’t find the energy to care. He had no idea whether you were still there but he was lying to myself if he said he wasn’t worried. After finding you like that, with Sunghoon just holding you down – the conjured image itself was urging his fingers to curl up into fists – your safety was his first priority. You were his first priority. But he was hurting himself in the process and he doesn’t know whether it was worth it anymore.

He’d gone home, found a half-eaten pizza in the fridge and selected a playlist that had him sitting in silence, despondently chewing cold congealed pizza as he looking at the clock on the wall of his living room. It was already past one in the morning but he couldn’t stand going to bed. Not when he could remember the feeling on your body in his arms, the way his skin felt against yours, the joined heat of the two of you under the blankets.

He hadn’t been able to sleep that night.

A bang on his door behind him broke Jungkook from the ocean of thoughts he was drowning under. He shot up, dropping the pizza in its box, senses oddly alert from the weed slipping away from his system and meandered towards the door.

He never imagined he’d be opening the door to you.

You were a mess, makeup smudged and cheeks flushed with warmth. But the moment your eyes landed on him your eyes brightened up, making something blossom in his chest with ease.

“Jungkook~” You whined, body falling forward as your legs failed to cooperate. He caught you easily, noting the tepid warmth that radiated from your skin and sunk into his own.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? How did you get here? Who dropped you?” Jungkook’s voice sounded shrill even to his own ears but he couldn’t help it – panic had slipped in the moment he’d seen you dishevelled figure.

His questions flew right over your head - you were too preoccupied with pushing your way into his home - weakly head-butted his chest in order for him to move.

“Why did you leave so early?” You continued to whine, hands coming up to grasp at his shirt. “Why were you so mean to me?”

You didn’t expect Jungkook to grab your chin, gently tugging your head up has his concerned brown eyes searched your own. They were so pretty up close, shades of chocolate and chestnut intertwining in his irises. You wanted to fall into them and never come out.

“Y/N,” He said slowly, deep voice joining the crickets outside in an odd orchestra. “How. Did. You. Get. Here.”

“I walked,” You stated, blinking at him.

“You what? In this state? Jesus fuck! Do you ever think about the consequences of your actions?” He was yanking you inside, arms steading your drunken stumbles as he slammed the door behind your joined bodies. “I’m to kill all of them,” He murmured. “Did any see you leave? Jimin? Taehyung?”

You shook your head, the simple motion causing a maelstrom in your mind. “Their girlfriends came over. I missed you. So I walked here.”

Jungkook didn’t know whether to slam his head against a wall or to hold you and never let go.

He settled from pinching the bridge of his nose and taking in several, deep breathes. “You’re going to be the death of me, Y/N.”

You ignored him, moving towards the couch to find the pizza box. “Ohhh. Can I eat this?”

“You’re to get food poisoning, come here. Let me take care of you.” His hand found itself on your wrist, gently guiding you away from the box and into the kitchen. Jungkook may have allowed himself to eat that but he couldn’t do that to you.

Soon enough you found a cup of ramen placed before you, along with a bottle of water that Jungkook insisted you were going to finish right then and there. You ate obediently, feeling satisfied that you had all of his attention and that you getting food in the process.

You didn’t pick up on the searching glances Jungkook was giving you as he assessed you from head to toe, looking for any sign of bodily harm. He was driving him crazy to think that you walked to his apartment in the middle of the night, all alone. Something in his head was beating him up for not staying there – for not finding you and keeping you safe.

That was when the noticed the dark stain on your shirt.

“What’s that?” He slowly asked, trying to ease the tension from his voice.

“Oh,” You glanced down, “That was just Jimin. He spilled something on me.”

Jungkook was going to knock Jimin dead the next time he saw his hyung.

“You need to change. You can’t stay like that.” He was already moving before you could object, immediately returning with a black shirt of his. You gratefully accepted it, halting your eating in order to strip away the stained shirt you were currently wearing. In your current state of mind, you hadn’t thought about whether removing your shirt in front was Jungkook was a good idea. So he got a good flash of your lacy black bra before he had spun around, heart thumping in his chest.

You giggled when you noticed his turned back, rubbing the cotton fabric in against your fingertips. “It’s okay, turn around.”

He did so slowly, eyes still focused on the floor until they gradually moved upwards.

Jungkook never knew that someone could look so beautiful in a plain shirt and ruined makeup.

You looked like his, content from good food and still very drunk. And the shirt that was normally oversized on him was drowning your figure in fabric.

It hurt so much to know that was never going to be a reality for him.

“I’m tired,” You yawned, getting up to try and dump the utensils in the sink and trash the noodle package. Jungkook grabbed them both from you, eyes flickering to the clock that showed it had gone past two in the morning. He wasn’t letting you leave his house at this time.

“Yeah, we should sleep now,” He muttered, leading you towards the bedroom. You meandered inside, instantly heading towards the bed that you had grown increasingly familiar with over the past couple of weeks. You got in first, the sheets more comfortable than they had ever been. Jungkook watched you struggled with the blanket, frustrated noises slipping from your mouth that had his own curling upwards.

He acted on instinct, moving forward to take the blankets and gently tuck them around your figure until you were content.

“Thank you,” You slurred out, eyes already shut. “You’re the best when you aren’t being mean to me.”

Jungkook smiled, the motion more painful than joyous. He found himself leaning forward until his lips were softly pressed against your forehead. You sighed at the feeling, a lazy grin on your lips.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” Jungkook whispered, voice straining with sadness.

“Night Jeon. Love you.”

♡

You awoke with a jolt, senses instantly taking in the familiar furniture that you had been accustomed too. Jungkook was still sleeping beside you, chest rising and falling as the sun appeared behind his drawn curtains, bathing everything in a warm sepia glow.

You head was pounding, a clear indication you had taken too much last night. You couldn’t even remember how you’d ended up in Jungkook’s bed but your feet were strangely sore. At least it was Jungkook and not some random guy.

That’s when you noticed you were wearing his shirt.

You got out the bed slowly, trying not to alert him as you located your clothes. They were strewn across the floor, accompanying Jungkook’s own clothes. You were trying your best not to panic. There was no way anything happened between the two of you last night – you and Jungkook were best friends, there were no feelings involved. At all.

And yet you couldn’t even wake him up to say goodbye. Instead, you gathered your belongings, not bothering to change out his shirt and fled with your tails tucked between your legs.

The first thing you did upon your return home was to strip the shirt off and leave it on your bed.

Hwasa was not home yet when you dashed into your shared apartment, much to your happiness. You cleaned up quickly, trying to scrub off the thought of you and Jungkook off your mind just as you were scrubbing your skin clean of last night’s alcoholic mistakes.

For most of the day as you run around campus, attempting to finalise all the small things you needed for mid-term break. Most students were leaving today, heading home to enjoy a merited holiday but that was not on your mind. Your parents lived to far for you to travel back in the middle of the term so you usually staying on campus. But you still had to run some errands before the school officially closed for break.

You returned home to find his shirt still on the bed, its forlornness amplified by the dark colour of the shirt. Jungkook had always preferred simple hues in his clothes. You were tempted to shove it right to the back of your closet and pretend like last night never existed but you still couldn’t piece together the series of events that ended up with you at his house. The only one who would know would be Jungkook. And you had to apologise too, for running off without a single word. Jungkook hadn’t texted or called you to ask if you were alright and it hadn’t surprised you.

So you shoved it into a bad (after folding it neatly) and left your home, trying to hold your head high and failing indefinitely.

His door wasn’t locked when you tried to open it.

You warily stepped in, wide eyes flickering side to side as you searched for the owner of the apartment. Your mouth was already open, his name forming in your throat when you heard a yell from his bedroom door.

“Get out! You have no right to be here Jiyeon! We’ve talked about this – We’re over! What don’t you understand?”

You froze in your tracks, the sound of an infuriated Jungkook piercing your ears. You knew why a second later, your feet leading you towards the door. Her face appeared between the crack of the open door, tears streaking down her face.

“You can’t tell me you love her! Everyone saw you leave without her last night! That slut is probably sleeping with half your friends!”

“Don’t you dare call her a slut Jiyeon.” His voice was ice, cutting in the tense atmosphere in the room with its harshness. “Have you forgotten how you spread your legs for nearly half the track team?”

“That was a mistake!” She wailed. “I didn’t mean too. Babe, I miss you – I know you miss me too!”

“I wished I missed you, Jiyeon,” He snapped back, racking his fingers through his rumpled russet tresses. “It would make everything so much easier if I wasn’t in love with her – it really fucking would.” He sounded like he was holding back tears when he laughed but you couldn’t see his face. You’re not sure you wanted to see his face.

Jiyeon’s look with bewilderment replicated your own. Hers was quickly replaced with a look of dejection when he ordered her out of his house for the last time.

You got out before either of them noticed you were there the whole time, fingers trembling as you left the door slightly ajar behind you.

Your shaking hands dug through your bag to find your phone, dialing Hwasa’s number with unsteady jabs at your screen.

“Hey! Where-”

“I think Jungkook is in love with me,” You sputtered out.

There was a moment of silence as you wanted for Hwasa to process what you had said. Heck, you were still processing what you had heard earlier.

“Umm…” She uttered. “I mean you guys are dating, so I think he is meant to be in love with you?” She sounded as confused as your heartfelt.

“No – no. The thing between us was fake. I think Jungkook is actually really in love with me.”

“What! The dating thing was fake? Wait, why? Y/N what’s going on?”

You exhaled, jumping into the tale of what happened the night of Sunghoon’s party and how it resulted in your current predicament and how you had just realised that Jungkook had been in love with you the whole fucking time.

“How you manage to get yourself in shit-storms like this, I will never know,” She commented. “But we need to report Sunghoon! You should have told me! I had long nails last week, I would have clawed his face off.”

“The school wouldn’t have done much and you know that, Hwasa.”

“Then the police? Let’s go there.”

“I don’t have any signs of trauma or bodily harm. Sunghoon never got there, Jungkook – Jungkook stopped him before it happened.”

“Y/N,” Hwasa gently said, “You’re so shocked that Jungkook likes you that I’m starting to think that you like him back as well.”

You paused, a weird constricting feeling in your chest. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. And in my opinion, you should just bang him, get him out of your system if you end up not wanting him.” “I can’t sleep with one of my closet friends,” You retorted.

“Yes, you can. You kissed Jaemin when you guys were only friends and you didn’t even know if he liked you back. Jungkook likes you and you know it. Plus you like him back. So what’s the problem here?”

“Well,” You sputtered, searching for some excuse but not finding any.

“Exactly,” Hwasa replied triumphantly. “Go give him his shit back and call me after you’ve at least kissed or something! I heard his dick is big.”

The dial tone hit your ear hard. You gazed at your phone, trying to think of another person to call so you can waste time before eventually going back to Jungkook’s. But he was the only other person you called frequently enough besides Hwasa, and she wasn’t going to pick up anytime soon.

So you recollected yourself and walked back. Your knuckles barely grazed the door when Jungkook ripped it open, agitation contorting his features. It immediately eased away when his gaze fell on you. However, the tense grip on his door handle did not disappear.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah, hey. I just came by to drop the shirt you gave me last night,” You replied, trying your best to ignore the tremor colouring your voice as you handed him the bag with his shirt. “Thank you for that.”

He took it, nodding without a single comment, feet already shuffling back so he could slam the door in your face.

“Wait!” You sputtered out, had shotting out to hold the door open. “Can I come in? Just for a moment. I want to talk.”

Jungkook regarded you with a wary gaze, stepping back so you can enter. “You can’t stay long though. I’m leaving tomorrow so I need to pack,” He mentioned, voice clipped.

The fact that he was going away so soon made your heart sink in ways you couldn’t explain. You walked in, eyes landing on everything but him. Your palms felt clammy to your touch, heart thumping harder against your chest with every passing second.

When you looked up, he was staring down at you expectantly.

Your mouth was dry, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. You cleared it, fingers fumbling with the hem of your jacket as you attempted to calm down your racing heart.

“Well? Are you going to say anything? I have things to do.”

You took in a shaky breath. This was the first time you’d ever been a position like this. Relationships were never hard for you. If you like a person you would tell them upfront. But with Jungkook you were so so afraid that you had misread the situation and by saying something you would have ruined a long-term friendship.

But you opened your mouth and said it anyways.

“I like you.”

The three words caused him to freeze, dark brows raised in shock.

“I-I don’t know if you like me back, but I feel like I should say it-”

“Do you mean it,” Jungkook quietly said, cutting you off.

“What do you mean?” You questioned, looking at him. Jungkook’s eyes were wide and dark with intensity.

“I mean, do you mean it. Do you really like me?”

“Yes, Jungkook. Why would I-”

His mouth was pressed against yours before you could even register him pulling you closer. You melted in his touch, mouth willing opening to let him in. You needed too. You wanted Jungkook to consume you wholely, take every part that you were willing to offer. And his did, drawing your lower lip between his with a sigh of content rumbling behind the chest you were holding onto you. His hands slipped around your waist, drawing you closer to him with a small tug. Sparks shot through your body as the feeling of his hands on your body, the nerves within you responding to him in ways they’d had never before for anyone else.

When you pulled apart, your lips were tingling. He rested his head against yours, cheeks flushed rouge and peach lips glistening. It just made you want to kiss him even more.

“I don’t think you know how badly I’ve wanted to do that,” He rasped out, dark eyes flickering between your lips and eyes.

“Do it one more time. Please.”

You drew him closer again, fingers dragging themselves against his scalp as your lips found one another once more, eliciting a groan from him. It was even better the second time, your mouths moving in unison as Jungkook drew out muffled moans from your own mouth. His tongue pressed against your own, his need to have you apparent in how he pulled you even closer to him. You gave away more of yourself, a new type of desire blooming in your body as you kissed Jungkook. It was harder to pull away this time, enough though you needed to breathe you found yourself coming back for pecks that quickly turned into passionate kisses.

Jungkook finally backed away, mouth open and hair ruined from your ministrations. “We’re going to have to stop before we do something we might regret.”

“I don’t want to stop. Do you?” You muttered, aware of you your underwear was drenched in slick right down. There was already a tight coil of desire in your core that was wound up. You hadn’t slept with anyone since Sunghoon and from what you felt earlier Jungkook was just as wound up as you were.

He paused, evaluating your face. “Are you sure?”

You pressed your body against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. The feeling of him there made your legs tremble with want. “Absolutely.”

Jungkook hoisted you into the air without a second thought. You shrieked, hiding the smile on your face in his neck. Your legs naturally wrapped themselves around his waist, given his crotch the perfect amount of access to your dripping core.

He dropped you down on his bed with ease, falling right between your legs with a loud thump. You head had hit the bed too hard causing a soft cry from your lips.

“Did I hurt you?” He hurriedly asked.

You smiled, pulling his face closer to yours. “Yes. But you can fix it with a kiss.”

You felt the smile in his kiss when his lips touched yours and then you were lost in the sensation of having him like that. And the sounds he was making. You had never pinned yourself to like loud men but with every groan and whimper that Jungkook made, the wetter you became and the more you liked it. Until the feeling of emptiness was unbearable and you were bucking up at his elevated hips, searching for some form of relief. Why were you wearing jeans? Why was anyone wearing any clothes?

A rough grip landed on your hip, pressing it back down on the mattress. You whined, pulling away from Jungkook’s lips.

His eyes were blown out, dark with want but unforgiving as he said, “Wait. I want to eat you out first.”

He slid down, pausing to devour your neck, leaving a dark mark in wake of his lips before digging his fingertips into the waistband on your jeans. You helped him, yanking off the bottoms and your top with vigour and tossing them onto the floor. When you reached for your underwear, Jungkook stopped your hands, pushing them back onto the bed.

“Let me,” He whispered, voice husky. You swallowed, nodding as you watched him spread apart your pliant legs before dragging his wet tongue right down your clothed pussy. He slipped two fingers into the waist of your underwear, slowly dragging the fabric away. You didn’t know you could get any wetter than you already word, but when his eyes finally landed on your exposed pussy he muttered a soft “fuck” that had you drenched in an instant. His tongue was on your clit immediately, swirling patterns of figure eights across the sensitive bud before moving lower to map out every part of you with his mouth.

You found yourself bucking into his mouth, nails digging into his scalp as you whined with need. Jungkook revelled in your response, eagerly finding new places to slip his tongue into. He flicked it against your entrance, tensing the nerves around there before tentatively pressing his tongue inside you.

You groaned, legs falling wider apart to give him more space to devour you. Jungkook compiled, enthusiastic flicks against your pussy making your back arch against the mattress.

“F-fuck! Jungkook, ugh.” You had never been eaten out like this. Jungkook was tasting every part of you and from the hums in he was making he was enjoying it just as much as you were. You glanced down, finding Jungkook staring up at your face as his tongue formed whirlpools around your clit your glistening slick on his mouth.

His fingers joined a moment later, probing at your entrance until two of them easily slipped past your walls, replacing his tongue. The pushed forward, your pussy tight around them, curling up in order to reach the ball of nerves that would set you off. You were already building up towards the edge. You hadn’t had anyone touch you like this in a long time and you had to admit that Jungkook was good. So good that in a moment he had the pads of his fingers against something that had you panting into the air.

“Fuck, you look so gorgeous,” He groaned against your pussy lips. “So fucking beautiful with my mouth on your pussy and my fingers in you. You like this don’t you? Like having my dirty mouth on your pussy.” He pressed his tongue against the sensitive bud, causing a jolt to run through your body as the fingers inside you dragged against your walls. You could already feel them tightening, the tremors of your release thrumming in your legs.

“You want to cum don’t you? All over my mouth and my fingers,” Jungkook rasped, his fingers snapping into your pussy. He knew you were close and he was relishing in the way your body responded to him. You were losing it, unable of making coherent sentences apart of the occasional scream of his name when he was too rough with you.

Then he stopped, pulling his fingers from your pussy with a wet loud sound that had you snapping your head up to look at him again.

“Why – why did you stop?” You were so close, you just needed a little bit more and you would have disintegrated in his hands.

Jungkook grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips. It felt strange to taste yourself on his mouth but you didn’t mind it.

“I can’t let you come yet, Y/N. Do you know how many times I’ve thought of having you like this? There are many, many things I want to do tonight. Can be good for me and wait until I say you can?” Jungkook murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, gulping as he crawled back up the bed, fingers grazing your warm skin.

“Truth be told I could eat your pussy for hours. Days even. The sounds you make – fuck I love your mouth.” He was pulling you in for another kiss, the significant bulge of his right against your clit. You whined, the fabric of his jeans hurting you with every minuscule buck of his hips.

It took a couple of seconds for Jungkook to understand what you meant but when he did he kicked him them, leaving him in a pair of black boxes that failed to conceal the massive tent he was rocking behind the fabric.

You wanted to touch him, run your fingers along his length and make him feel as good as he was making you feel but before you could reach out and wrap your fingers around his cock, Jungkook was pulling them back, clasping your wrists in one large hand of his and pressing them into the sheets with force.

“Let me see all of you first,” He said, the other hand slipping behind your back to unhook your bra. Your breasts fell out of them, Jungkook easily catching them with his mouth. Your nipples had never been sensitive but the moment his mouth touched the skin there nerves connected and sparked, sending signals of desire right down to your pussy.

“Fuck, f-f-uck! Jungkook! Fuck please put your fingers in me.”

“Beg.”

“Jungkook, please, please. Need your fingers inside, need anything, Fuck please.”

“So fucking eloquent with words,” He hissed, two fingers slipping back down to pump themselves in you. You arched into them, driving your hips down so he could faster into, they twisted with your movements, coaxing another rise out of you were every lick against your nipples alongside the feeling of his fingers flexing inside you.

Just as you drew closer he pulled them away again, leaving your frustrated, walls clenching desperately around the air. But you immediately forgot about it when Jungkook looked at you with utter want, lips swollen from working up every part of your body.

“Want to ride my face?”

It took a little bit of cooperation and with your legs already weak from being so close two times and then cruelly denied you had a bit of trouble making them function. But then you were descending down on Jungkook’s mouth, his arms holding your hips up. He pressed a kiss against your pussy lips, spreading them apart with an expert drag of his tongue that had you leaning forward, stomach caving in as you tried to hold back the orgasm that was threatening to tip you over.

“Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. I could stay here all day. You taste so fucking good on my tongue.”

“I’ll taste even better when you let me cum.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating right into your core. “Is that what you want baby?”

You began to nod, only to throw your head back with Jungkook’s lips found themselves around your clit once more. Your chest heaved with each short lungful of air as you tried to keep yourself upright and not sit down directly onto his face. Wave after wave of tremors that shot through your legs from your core was making it hard for you. You could already feel it peaking, a blazing white heat burning in your core as you fists the bed sheets beside you in an attempt to draw it away.

“Come baby girl. Come all over my face.”

You didn’t need another command, a shudder wreaking havoc through your body as you released yourself onto his tongue. Jungkook lapped it up, moaning into your pussy as he took one hand to his pants, palming himself through the thin fabric.

“Fuck,” You heaved out, heart beating out of your chest.

“Are you okay with another one?” He muttered as you slipped away from his head, thighs still feeling like putty at the smallest movement. The fact that Jungkook wanted to drag another orgasm out of your tired body was mind blowing.

“G-give me a moment.”

Jungkook did, a satisfied smirk on his face as you collapsed beside him. Your eyes had fluttered closed unwillingly but snapped right back open when you a felt a press of a kiss against your forehead.

Why did that feel familiar?

His hands were trailing patterns against your skin, guiding themselves down to your still drenched pussy slowly. You savoured the feeling of him against your skin, allowing yourself to enjoy it because finally after yearning for it Jungkook was yours.

“Can I fuck you now?”

You nodded into the comforter, legs spreading open. You didn’t miss the small smile Jungkook sported, before climbing above your body to flip you around so that you were face to face.

He moved to tug off his underwear, a spot of precum staining the front of the fabric but you stopped him, fingers grasping the band of the material.

“Let me,” You said, mimicking his earlier words. Jungkook rolled his eyes at you, but his still glimmered with want.

His cock sprung free from the confinements of the fabric, red and hard with need, slapping against the cotton fabric of the shirt he was still wearing. Which you were not happy about.

“Why are you wearing that?” You tugged at the hem of his shirt until he pulled it off, revealing a set of chiselled abs that made your inside walls clench with longing. His cock slapped against the bare skin of his stomach, beads of cum pooling from his flushed tip. You bit your lips, a motion Jungkook didn’t miss.

“You can suck me off later, right now I really want to fuck you.”

“I’m waiting,” You replied, running your fingers against the curves of his muscles. The flexed underneath your touch; your fingers felt like live wires because that movement sent a spiral of heat to your core.

“I have condoms in the drawer let me-”

“We don’t need them. I’m clean and I’m on the pill. Are you?” Jungkook eagerly nodded, cock twitching at the thought of being buried inside you with no barrier.

He grabbed his length, idly running his hand against it. You moved your legs wider apart, watching as Jungkook hoisted you up, his cock in line with you. The sensation of his head teasing your wet entrance had your inner muscles clenching in anticipation. He was fairly big and you knew you could get a nice deep stretch from it but your idea of what you expected paled in comparison to the feeling of him pushing right into you with one swift stroke.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” He groaned against your neck, giving you another deep thrust until his hip was pressed right against your own. You couldn’t say anything, silent whimpers leaving your mouth as you adjusted to the feeling of him against your walls. You felt the need to flex them, the motion prompting a mumbled moan from Jungkook as he held still, waiting for you to grow comfortable.

You rocked your own hips against him, the motion allowing this cock to slip even deeper into you. Jungkook snapped right back, hitting the coil of pleasure that had resurfaced the moment he’d entered inside you.

“Move, Jungkook, please move.”

He did exactly want you wanted, hips snapped forward with sharp precise thrusts, driving his cock into you with every motion. You groaned when you felt the tip of his shaft hit the bundle of nerves he’d found earlier, your own hips snapped up to meet his, the sound of skin hitting skin permeating the air around you.

“God, fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So fucking wet. Shit u-uh.” He moved faster, harder, beads of sweat forming on his skin as he fucked you into the mattress, the bed moving with every thrust of his hips.

You threw your head back, lost in the pleasure he was pulling from your body, an inferno of heat already pooling at your core.

His aim was already becoming sloppy, his need for release clear when you felt his cock twitch against your walls. You just needed a little bit more, just once more thrust against your –

“F-f-fuck! Jungkook! Ugh, fuck there, there, there. Yes! Shit – right there!”

His hips drove forward, as he pulled your legs up to get deeper. The simple action gave him direct access to where you needed him most and in seconds you were falling apart around his length. Your moans were honey to his ears and making it harder for him to stay together and fuck you through your orgasm. You could barely utter a word, mouth open with only soft broken ahs falling from your throat. Several more wild thrusts into you and Jungkook came to a halt. You could feel him shudder as he coated your walls with his cum, pants colouring the bruised skin on your neck, with every twitch of his cock against your walls.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath, until Jungkook slipped his cock out, a wet plop coming from the shift. He collapsed beside you, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and his chest expanding and caving in, glimmering in the late afternoon sunlight.

He glanced at you, a content smile on his face and shifted so that he could pull you closer against his wet chest.

“Ew, you’re sweaty,” You whined.

“So are you, sweetheart,” He snorted back, breath cooling your drenched neck.

“We need to talk though,” You continued. You hadn’t intended for things to escalate so quickly but it wasn’t like you had objected to it either.

“Later,” Jungkook said, slinging an arm over your waist.

“Don’t you have to shower or something? Are you still packing to leave?” You hadn’t forgotten that Jungkook was leaving tomorrow and it was still bothering you at the back on your mind.

“To where?” He sounded confused.

“Home – for the break. You said you were going.”

“Are you going home?”

“No, my parents are too far away.”

“Then I’m not going home,” Jungkook simply stated.

“What?”

“I don’t need to go home right now. Home is where ever you are, Y/N. Plus we have a lot of things to make up for.”

You blushed, a warm feeling budding in your chest. “Like what?”

“I pretty sure you own me a blowjob. And a proper date.”

Outtakes:

“Wait what? I walked here?”

Jungkook sleepily nodded into your skin.

“Why – what was I thinking?”

“I asked you the same thing.”

“And what did I say?”

“You said you miissseed me.”

“Ugh, shut-up, no I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You miiissssed me because you loove me.”

“I will literally kick you in the balls right now.”

“You love my dick too much to ever do that.”

“…True.”

4K notes · View notes

oathkeeper-of-tarth · 4 years

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2020 SU Fic Sampler - WIP Showcase

So in my continued attempts at distraction, I trawled through my SU fanfic folders, looked at the ol’ endless WIP pile. Figured I’d do a little roundup of some that are in something resembling a decent state. Maybe even see where interest lies and all that, get some attention and validation, you know, all that good stuff one craves. Of course, there’s loads more than this, and I might one day post some things I wrote but never quite managed to finish up, or that got super jossed in ways I couldn’t get myself to work around.

Now, in no particular order, here’s 8 draft snippets totaling almost 6000 words - not very polished, obviously, some quite rough around the edges, some long, some short, some that work better without context than others. But here they are anyway, with an utterly predictable array of focal characters. Any missing segments or my asides/notes in the text are [written like this], because I usually write very non-linearly. Hope you all like mood whiplash!

P.S. I live for comments.

Like Talking To A Wall, aka Bismuth making friends with the wall, statue, and floor Gems. Early precursors to radicalisation and “I would have liberated everyone”, perhaps. Started as one of my first reactions to the Diamond Days episodes.

“Hey, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. You’re lucky I’m so supportive,” Mica piped up from up on her arch.

Bismuth laughed. Bittersweet. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

Then, with a surprisingly gentle hand pressed to the carvings she’d been so careful about, she added a soft: “I’ll miss you.”

“Chin up! It’s gonna be a lovely off-planet adventure for you,” Granite rumbled from just above her head. “A brand new colony! Think of the sights!”

“You can tell us all about it when we see you again.”

Bismuth leaned back, pressing her whole back against the wall, reluctant to leave, even if a snooty shift supervisor was bound to come around and chase her off soon. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to do that.”

They all knew very well that, as always, when the building was done, it was goodbye. The chances of there being a need for repairs or remodelling - and the exact same bismuths being brought in to do them - were incredibly slim.

But pretending was nice, sometimes.

Hey, Steven, think I could get a moment before we leave? I won’t be long.

They were right where she’d left them, and the years had done very little to change them. A bit of a patina there, some dust, the tiniest bit of wear on sharper corners.

“Bismuth?” Several familiar voices cried out to her in shocked recognition.

She knew she must look a sight - battle-ready and battle-worn, but armour still gleaming, and with a bearing of one who had been through much and was always ready for more. She felt her back had never been so proud and straight, her shoulders so resolutely set.

“I think,” Bismuth grinned, “you’re gonna start seeing changes around these parts.”

---

One for that favourite Pearletariat/Pearl Solidarity fic sub-genre of mine: Clever Pearls Cleverly Getting Around Badly Worded Orders. A bit of an origin for an as-of-yet unnamed pearl OC, because I sure don’t have enough of those!

In the untold thousands of years of Homeworld and Gemkind, and the hundreds of thousands of commands given to hundreds of thousands of pearls, nobody ever thought to Order a pearl not to think. That would imply a they mattered at all, and who would ever put stock in a pearl’s thoughts? Most Gems weren’t sure pearls could think, anyway. I mean, if they could, all that standing around would be intolerable, wouldn’t it? And imagine not being able to say no to anything, even crushing your own gem - shards, at least I’m not a pearl!

They were, occasionally, when dealing with an owner’s important, private, confidential business, Ordered to forget, or, a bit less esoterically, Ordered never to tell.

And [OWNER] has always been all too eager with the Orders. As if she went to bizarre lengths in her thinking that pearl couldn’t - or wouldn’t? - do anything upon merely being told, let alone by herself. Every little thing, from sweeping up the shards of a broken decorative plate to taking down the minutes of an important meeting [OWNER] was presiding over - (im)pressed upon pearl with the crushing weight of an Order.

But she could still think.

Even when Ordered to wait by the door, freezing her limbs and anchoring her legs to the ground with all the force of a starship mooring mechanism. Even when Ordered into silence for days and planetary rotations on end because [OWNER] had wanted to read an important document without being disturbed and it simply didn’t occur to her to lift it when she was done.

In the wake of the Rebellion and the Renegade Pearl, it only gets worse, and soon enough pearl can barely remember the last time a single movement she made was voluntary.

---

SU Future-era Bismuth and Steven convo I scribbled down in between some of these recent eps - after Growing Pains in particular I think - because Bismuth is the absolute pep talk queen.

“You already said you were sorry for trying to kill me in the Forge, and really, it’s okay, it was all a misunderstanding. Besides, it’s more than a lot of people have done!”

Bismuth blinked at the pinkish sheen around Steven’s cheeks, around the downturned brows - strange trick of the light, that. “Steven, come on. Just listen to me for a minute.”

“Okay,” Steven sighed, and leaned against the railing Bismuth had fixed just that morning.

“Point is, for me, the war had never ended. It wasn’t only yesterday, it was today. It was over for everyone, it seemed, except for me. And getting over that, getting used to that, really seeing that as the truth, not living every day buzzed up with that anticipation of the next battle, just waiting for Homeworld to come down hard on us with whatever new horror they’d come up with… that took a while. And it took help.”

[sudden apparent non-sequitur but It’s An Allegory, Steven.]

“When you make a sword, you can’t make it rigid and unyielding. You can’t just temper it into toughness and hardness and make it unbreakable. It needs to have some give in order to be durable, it needs to be able to bend so as not to shatter on impact. And sure, maybe the first parry or strike wouldn’t be the one to do it, but the tenth, the hundreth, the thousandth? Any time you might just find yourself holding on to a hilt with the jagged remnants of everything, and shards scattered on the ground. And if you’re very lucky, that’ll happen during friendly sparring, not in the heat of battle.”

Steven shrugged without response, and seemed to be shrugging off all the words as well. Back to the direct approach it was, then.

“Now you, Steven,” that at least got a bit more attention, “Sure, you can brawl with the best of ‘em, and you put that gem to damn good use. You’ve got great technique drilled in, too - I’d expect nothing less from one of Pearl’s students. But that’s not how you won, in the end, is it? You never won because you were tough, or strong. You have a diamond in you but you’re not hard at all. Well, except on yourself.”

“In the end all of this was possible because you were soft. Just malleable and pliable enough when it was needed. And that takes guts.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Bismuth put a hand on his shoulder, and even with all the very human growing he’d done, he still seemed to almost disappear in it. “You put yourself out there for others… maybe it’s about time you let them help you.”

---

The next chapter of the His Dark Materials/Daemons AU which I am sooooo painfully late with it’s not even funny anymore. Already posted some excerpts [here] and [here].

“She’s been... away on business, but we’ve sent a zeppelin for her and she’s well on her way back. Hopefully.”

“You have a zeppelin?” Rose was rapidly failing in all her efforts to keep her voice down.

“Of a sort. We, er, we... stole it.”

“Stole-!”

“Yes, well, stole might be a strong word,” Pearl tapped a finger against her chin. “You see, there was a small decommissioned postal craft left below the southern mail station aërodock that nobody would ever miss, all I had to do was fix it up a bit and-”

Rose blinked. “You fixed a decommissioned zeppelin.”

Pearl waved a hand almost casually. “I had some help, but yes. Svalbard, understandably, is hard to reach with other means of transport, and Bismuth needed to be able to go back and forth.”

“You,” Rose began, awed, “are utterly wasted on bringing me my slippers, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well then, maybe,” Pearl blushed, but there was nothing hesitant about her smirk and the strikingly proud tilt of her head, “maybe you could take them off with a bit more care than kicking them halfway across the room and sending them off under the cabinets and- and then I wouldn’t need to do that at all. And I could fix all the zeppelins in the world.”

[more from the super secret backroom rebellion meeting]

“They’re with the Consistorial Court of Discipline, no doubt. Always on the lookout for,” Bismuth grimaced, “heretics. A lot falls under that. A lot of good excuses to snatch someone off the street and do who knows what to them. And they’ve been funneling people there, people vanished by the CCD. Not lacking in test subjects lately.”

“How did you get this? Where?” It was Sapphire, this time. Ruby seemed overwhelmed, and sat clutching her hand desperately as the tiny frog and hare both whispered something to her.

“We traced the funding for all this. It was difficult and deliberately obfuscated, but we managed. A facility like this, an entire operation, cost a pretty amount, you’d assume - and you’d be right. It had to come from somewhere. And whoever was paying for it was likely to want to know what was being done with their investment.”

“So we followed the trail. And it turned out I was… ideally positioned to… to, erm, procure what evidence there was to be found. Because, well...” Pearl trailed off, and lifted one of the stolen report sheets for all to see.

It was as clear as day, the family crest right above the astronomical amount being granted. Four diamonds, neatly arranged.

Neshu’s ears were flat against his mane, and Rose found herself wishing the ground would simply open up and swallow both her and him and the chair that she sat on and he’d tried to duck under.

Bismuth spoke up, grim, every drop of earlier exuberance gone from her. “When the Diamonds look out from the windows of their mansion, they don’t see people. They see tools, toys, and weapons. Nothing else.” She sounded more tired than angry. “It’s just what they’ve always been doing, but writ large.”

---

And then, of course, the Longass PearlRose Fixit because I hate the gag order but at the same time want it gone… slowly and organically. Alternating Rose and Pearl POVs spanning throughout the rebellion era, all sorts of flashbacks and Imagining Things included. At one point they end up attempting to essentially jailbreak Pearl, because Pearl is, as we all know, absolutely the most hardcore. Also thank you SU Movie for confirming all the awful Alexa-flavour fanon/headcanons and giving me an excuse to dive into a bunch of Gems-as-AI tropey stuff, on top of everything. [another previously posted fragment here]

“I don’t want to. I never want to do that to you again.” She stops, takes a breath, reconsiders. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, the trust I just… trampled over. So I want to make sure that it’s not just that, you trusting me not to make the same mistake again, with no reassurance anywhere. I—I want to not be able to. Nobody should be able to do that to you.”

“Nobody should be able to do that to anyone,” Pearl corrects readily.

“You’re right,” Rose smiles, only a bit wry, “as always. My brilliant, brilliant Pearl. What would I do without you?”

“Never get back to the point you were trying to make, I imagine,” Pearl quips with something resembling sauciness, and Rose feels at least some of the weight starting to lift off her.

“Right,” Rose agrees, chastised, and tries to focus. “I just… I’m not sure how, or what I need to do at all. It’s not like there’s much precedent – ownerless pearls are unheard of. Even when their owners get shattered, it’s only ever temporary, and, with such high demand, very brief.”

Pearl nods in agreement, and hums. “Luckily, we’ve seen plenty of unheard of and unspeakable things here.”

[echoes of Scabbard convo]

“I want to know, I want to be certain, that you’re here because you want to be.”

“So do I.” Pearl responds quietly, letting their fingers entwine.

[Giving an order not to follow orders doesn’t work, failsafes exist. Then they try a sort of ownership transfer thing, and try to make the new owner Pearl. It doesn’t register, “invalid transfer target”, even when Pearl tries to hack it - some odd gem tool that scans and pokes at her gem - she gets all bummed out because she can’t even reprogram a very basic and modifiable handheld tool/device to recognise a pearl as an actual gem and person. What chance does she have against hearts and minds and an entire ingrained culture of an entire sprawling empire?

“You changed my mind,” says Rose all softly and earnestly.

Have I really? Pearl asks herself but doesn’t let it escape out loud. Still. Step by small step, she admits to herself. Incremental, slow, but persistent work. She can do that. Even as down on herself as she is, she can do that.]

“The… the override.” Pearl breathes out suddenly.

“What?”

“The administrative override - you, or, well... Pink Diamond should be able to trigger it, even without a Rejuvenator. We shouldn’t…” Pearl looks strangely scared now, swallowing small gulps before pushing onwards, hands trembling and fingers knotting together, “w-we shouldn’t need a full reset, really, but. But we can try modifying the owner identification...”

Having to… turn into Pink again (turn back into yourself, you mean, a small voice whispers, who are you trying to fool) doesn’t sit well with her, of course, but. Get a hold of yourself, Pearl certainly has it so much worse in this scenario.

[more here about how they both need to kind of “revert” a bit to try this and it sucks, because no! unpleasant poking of holes in the elaborate fantasy! For the greater good, but still.]

And oh, Pearl looks just about ready to either cry with some strange terror Rose has never seen her display, or dissipate her form on the spot - the small dam of coldly throwing around terms like administrative override activation and owner identification variable providing just enough distance for her to carry on.

“It shouldn’t be too risky if we’re… if you’re careful.”

[Pearl trusts her with everything, her literal entire self - with this thing that is such a blatant violation of her being and her person, that she now wants to turn against itself, using one of the most humiliatingly clearly objectifying aspects of her status as an instrument of her liberation. It is all A Lot.]

Rose remembers, also, with a sting, the way she grumbled and sulked over the gaping pit of guilt in her stomach and refused to even look at the glowing, floating shell Blue was so insistently pushing her towards. She wanted her Pearl back, not whatever White and the others had decided to foist upon her now. Not a pale replacement, nothing they deemed suitable.

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

“Come on, Pink,” Blue urges, softly but mercilessly as ever, large hands enveloping Pink almost whole from where they’re planted on her shoulders, “White had her specially made, just for you! And we helped as well - only the best for our Pink. Now it’s up to you to put your finishing touches, as is proper-”

“What for? You’ll just take her away when you feel like it anyway,” she grumbles into her arms, curling up on the floor and resolutely refusing to look even as the glow spreads from the corner of her eye, insistent.

Just as insistent as the awfully familiar little voice. “Please state preferred customisation options.”

“I. Don’t. Care!” But now with a newly noticeable, if strained restraint - not, like her usual, punctuated with a slam of her fist on the floor tiles, perfectly shiny and pink. No, she couldn’t- do something like that again-

“Default setting selected. Please stand by.”

Yellow scoffs and moves to leave. “Come on, Blue. No point to us wasting our time being here if she’s just going to throw one of her tantrums.”

But Blue refuses to leave it at that, and makes sure to cut with parting words, before slinking through the large pink doorway. “I am very disappointed in you, Pink. To act like that, and with White personally making sure you got such a lovely gift even after everything...”

“Waste of good nacre, if you ask me,” Yellow muses from somewhere up above. “At least try not to break this one.”

The glow intensifies with a hum, and Pink screws her eyes shut and pretends not to see or hear anything.

By the time she opens them again, the others are gone.

But then there is another presence at her side, hovering just behind, as is proper court protocol. The shuffling of tiny, soft slippers on the polished stone - weren’t pearls supposed to be endlessly, effortlessly quiet?

“Leave me alone,” she preempts quietly. The shuffling moves away.

“Please identify yourself.”

Calmly, now, calmly but firmly, just like we planned it. Don’t mess this up now. She’s counting on you. She trusts you. “Pearl.”

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

They’ve discussed this too, of course - extensive (over)preparation and planning down to minutiae is Pearl’s go-to at the best of times, and something she clutches at for comfort at the worst of times. And she’s always, to a sometimes comical extent, despised that ridiculous dress. To a wonderful extent, too, all things considered.

“Revert to last implemented appearance.”

“Settings selected. Please stand by.”

[Of course this doesn’t work because all it does is change the $username$ variable, not the actual identity of the person imprinted: it’s still Rose/Pink, she’s just nicknamed “Pearl” now, but she can still give orders and everything.]

[evolves into Pearl literally hacking herself… the most hardcore of modders]

---

Pearl Playing the Field aka “why not hyper-analyze that one brief shot of the notes and phone numbers in Pearl’s gem and write 9 meet-cutes”. Pearl goes out to “find herself”. Whatever that is supposed to mean. Supposed to be set pre-ASPR, but also extends past it. Ended up with some Bispearl in it too because I am predictable and can absolutely not help myself.

“Your hair is wonderful!” She feels like she almost has to shout to be heard over the din of the bar’s ill-chosen soundtrack, and she doesn’t appreciate it. Definitely not one of her favourite places she’s decided to visit recently. And the ventilation is atrocious.

But still, she’s come all this way, so she may as well make the best of it. And while the preoccupation with hairstyles during first meetings seems like a bit of an odd running theme (can it really be termed a running theme, though, if it’s happened all of two times?), it’s certainly worked in the past (recent, very recent, and hardly bursting with relevant instances, Pearl!). Oh, and this particular one is just too fascinating. Approaching a work of art, Pearl would dare say. Especially, well. Especially when paired with the lovely eyes and striking jawline and strong neck it seems to deliberately be drawing attention to.

Pearl leans on the bar, in the bit of space the woman happily makes for her, and tries to look confident and well-informed, but not smug, no, never smug. “I know... about the, uh, goop, of course. I know how one accomplishes this.”

The woman gives a bemused smile. “Thanks! Not too shabby yourself.” She leans in closer. “I'm actually in school for it.”

“School?” Pearl casts desperately back to what she's heard from Steven and Greg's often hasty instruction. That was for educating human children, wasn't it? She'd put one together for Steven that one time, with desks and a blackboard… and Connie attended one regularly...

“Yeah, kind of a late game career change.” Pearl nods along as she realises - or, rather, remembers - she is absolutely terrible at gauging human ages. “But I thought... after almost 30 years in accounting and not going anywhere I wanted to be going... it’s not like we have all the time in the world, right? So I figured, why not? Go for something I'm actually invested in and that I've always wanted to do, y'know?”

“Oh. Oh yes, yes I do.” And for once, she really does. Well, not the time-related bit, perhaps, but the very particular delight of getting to pursue one’s genuine interests after a long while of being denied? Absolutely. “I’ve done something of the sort myself, actually. Go for it! As they, uh, say.”

The dramatic gesture of almost punching the air with a closed triumphant/defiant fist might have been a tad over the top, but it wins her a smile that doesn’t seem unkind. The woman winks and tips her glass at Pearl, then finishes her drink - something sweet-smelling and almost as colourful as her hair.

“I had a classmate do this one for me, and I did hers after.” Pearl is nodding along again, leaning in to hear better as the woman’s voice dips lower. “I kind of like to experiment, push the limits, go wild with it. Hey. You interested? Promise I won’t go too wild on you.”

Pearl's mind goes blank there for a moment. The woman is… very close, and there are unignorable implications unrelated to hair styling so obvious here even she is picking up on them without issue, and the music hasn’t gotten any quieter. Interested in what, exactly, she wants to ask, but she came here for wild new experiences and exciting novelty, didn’t she, so instead comes out with a rather strangled-sounding: “Eughhhhh...uhhh.... Ye...s?”

The woman’s expression goes serious. “Hey, come on, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

---

Forge Showdown AU - aka in a twist of fate Bismuth poofs Rose during their confrontation and revelations happen that change the course of… well, pretty much everything - one of a bunch of AUs where the PD reveal happens earlier and under different circumstances (I had an idea of doing a 5+1 of those at one point).

The glow of the lava coloured the quickly dissipating smoke more orange-red than pale pink, and Bismuth stared numbly at where their revered leader, Rose Quartz herself, had been standing mere moments ago. She’d lashed out, true, but she hadn’t really been expecting the clumsy blow - more of a warning, or underlining a point in their continued argument-turned-fight - to land. In all their many sparring sessions, Rose had never succumbed to something like that, would have never so much as let it brush against her. But she’d been- frozen, distracted… by what?

There, scraping softly against the ground as it rolled with leftover momentum...

That was not a rose quartz gem.

Bismuth raked her mind feverishly, thought back through the last few, oddly blurred seconds.

“We’re not using this, Bismuth! It’d make us just as bad as them!”

“No! You’re the one who’s as bad as them- look at you, lording over all of us, thinking it’s your right to command me, order me around, like you’re, what, my diamond?”

It… it had to be some kind of imposter, or spy. Right? Some kind of… awful Homeworld plan, trying to tear the Rebellion apart from the inside. Where was Rose, then? The real one? Captured? Being interrogated somewhere, her whereabouts kept strictly secret to minimise the chance of rescue? Shattered? Impossible, they’d never hear the end of the victorious crowing.

When could it have happened? The last few battles and meetings had been nothing out of the ordinary, and Bismuth couldn’t think of anything odd or off about Rose recently at all. Not a single hint or sign that anything was amiss. Not a single misstep. Homeworld would have trained and conditioned its agents well, but Rose- Rose was singular, and utterly one-of-a-kind, and how could they possibly capture all of it so perfectly-

Bismuth startled out of her thoughts as the beginnings of light seemed to gather in the core of the gem, and all but threw herself onto it, encasing it in a bubble.

Rose was rather special, wasn’t she? And not just in what she said or what she did or how she behaved or what she led and encouraged them to do, but…

Her endless array of wondrous powers. Her sheer strength, overpowering ruby fusions and quartz battalions alike almost single-handedly. The healing which Bismuth herself had been on the receiving, lifesaving end of countless times. The way she called upon the organic creatures of the planet to fight for her, fighting in their name. And then, her regular absences. The way she seemed to know exactly what the Homeworld troops were up to - that wasn’t just some kind of tactical brilliance.

She dared to look at the gem again. Its hue was changed some by the bubble, but that was still in no way a rose quartz gem. No, it was an altogether different shape, but a terrifyingly familiar one.

But it made no sense!

Bismuth ran a slightly trembling hand down her face.

Pearl. Of course, Pearl would have to know, if anyone. About… whatever this was.

But if this, if she was… her, then Pearl-

Bismuth’s insides twisted in horrible ways as the implications began to flitter through her mind, each one worse than the one before it. There was the old call-and-response ringing in her ears, making her feel disoriented and sick with what had to be the beginnings of anger, could grow into a great fury, leaving her unnecessary breaths ragged: Who do you belong to? Nobody!

But-

Not Pearl, then. At least, not at first. Garnet. Garnet would know, and Garnet could See. They’d get to the bottom of this.

---

A metric ton of rebellion era ficlets, vignettes from my eeeEEeeEEeeEEE Bismuth collection mostly, which I’ve been accumulating since 2016 and have only posted some - Pearl, Rose, Garnet, Bismuth centric, occasionally with my takes on namedropped characters, some of which would now need an update to match actual canon.

Snowflake was there, held in Garnet’s arms. The familiar pattern of white speckles on black skin, the tight silver coils of hair sticking out every which way.

“We got her back. She wanted to see you.”

“Me? And you just listened to her? Are you out of your mind? How can I help? Have you taken her to Rose? If her gem- if she-”

“I’m right here!” Snowflake struggled out of Garnet’s hold, and stood up - wobbly, barely upright, but determined, on those legs that ran circles around Homeworld, and ran interference and messages faster than any Wailing Stone, in a pinch. “And I’m fine!”

“You don’t look fine, Snowy- listen, please just-”

Snowflake walked up to her, not stumbling a single time, and, gritting her teeth, looked right at her. The hairline fractures in her gem were visible from here, and Bismuth couldn’t help a wince. “Snowflake, come on-”

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

Bismuth wanted to clutch her to her chest and scream a thousand things at her, but You don’t have to prove anything to me and I’m proud of you and I’m going to make them pay for ever laying a finger on you all waged a war in her throat.

In the end she just settled on holding her close, very gently, until Garnet left, unheard, and came back with Rose, tears already in abundance.

[Later:] “I never properly thanked you, Garnet. For bringing Snowflake back.”

Garnet shrugged. “It was a group effort.”

A familiar voice sounded at the entrance to the Forge. “Now come along, it’s just here. Bismuth? Do you have a moment?”

“You know I always have time for you, Pearl,” she called back, putting her current project away. “What did you nee- oh.”

Bismuth blinked.

“Uh... wow,” was the only thing she could manage as pearl after pearl filed into her Forge, soon taking up most of the space around the anvil in impressively neat rows. “New recruits? A whole bunch of you, too.”

“Yes, well,” Pearl made her way to the front of the group, carefully avoiding brushing against the others on her way. She was fidgeting again, long fingers tangling and untangling rapidly, and that was one sure sign of mounting distress. “Garnet and I had planned out an attack on one of Blue Diamond’s supply lines. There was supposed to be a shipment of weapons coming in today, but it turns out it was… pearls.”

There was something rather off about Pearl’s tone, too. Bismuth made a note to ask later, and do her best to catch her alone.

“Well, all the better for us. Nice to have you all on board.” Her jovial tone was only slightly forced - the pearls all looked like they clearly needed something resembling friendliness, but their skittishness was palpable. She turned towards a pale green pearl right at the front of the group. “Now, what do I call you?”

There was nothing but mild confusion, vague fear, and general quiet shuffling. “No ideas yet? Don’t worry about it! There’s plenty of time to decide and find something that fits.”

[she does indeed manage to talk to Pearl alone, later]

“What’s the real problem, Pearl? You can’t fool me. I can tell something’s wrong.”

The rather flimsy front finally crumbled at that.

“I just… we- we took out the citrines they’d sent with the shuttle, and Garnet boosted me up so I could force the hatch open and I did, but then...” Pearl let out a distressed little half-sigh half-sob, one hand gesturing weakly. “They were all looking at me so wide-eyed and...”

She took a moment to at least attempt to collect herself.

“I don’t mind having them here, it’s not that at all. It’s just that… we were standing there, with all these newly-made pearls and… obviously I couldn’t just leave them there, in the middle of nowhere! And after what we did, whoever found them, they’d just have them shattered. Because of me. They were compromised. You’ve heard what they do now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. They’re the monsters, Pearl, and it’s not on you. It’s not you doing that to pearls, it’s them.”

“But it is on me! It quite literally is because of me, because of what I did, and continue to do. I made myself visible and played at being important and look what it got us,” Pearl was near tears, a frustrated blue colouring her face, “a handful of runaways and the rest being treated worse than ever.”

The tears were out in full force after that, and Bismuth put an arm around Pearl’s shaking shoulders. “Hey, hey, none of that.”

“We ended up taking them with us, but it feels like… it feels like I forced them to come here. Is it really any better than what Homeworld does? All I did was say you’re going to be rebels instead of you’re going to serve and they never got a say in anything.”

“Have you asked them?”

“They don’t know what-”

“Hey. Just ask them, okay? Ask them what they want. We can help them either way. Of course I’d love them to stay. But it’s not up to me, and if they want to go to wherever it was they were supposed to go- we can do that, too.”

[Rose discovers her healing tears in a dramatic fashion - they come up with the idea to make the fountain - and thanks to Save the Light we have a pretty good idea of who lovingly made all those statues]

She gently wiped away some of the chiselling dust with the flat of her thumb, just like a tear. A magnificent, healing, life-giving tear.

This was familiar work. But with none of the endless chafing, none of the hated reminders of her former station - Bismuth couldn’t find anything in herself but reverence. And… inspiration. She was a Gem, stars knew she didn’t need rest, breaks, anything of the sort, but still - this pace wasn’t something she’d felt driven to in a long, long while. All day under the burning summer sun, and every night under the light of her own gem. All alone, as the sanctuary took form under her hands.

To get the curls just right, tiny detail by tiny detail, somehow communicate the softness of those cheeks in stone… it took drawing upon the very depths of her well of skill, because how else could she ever hope to capture the likeness of someone as extraordinary as Rose Quartz?

With small, careful movements, she formed the roundness of the lips that could spit fiery words of rebellion, inspire like no other, scowl fiercely in the heat of battle, smile contagiously, bellow out an outrageous fireside guffaw, murmur comforts so softly, kiss…

And then she did it again, and again, and again.

[in the end, Rose is presented with a veritable shrine to herself]

“Rose? Is something wrong? You… don’t like it?”

“No, no, Bismuth, it’s… it’s incredible.” The smile Rose turned on her was as beautiful as anything, but it wasn’t hard to notice it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

#steven universe #oathkeeper writes things #INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO:#pearl #bismuth #rose quartz #bispearl #pearlrose #daemon au #the pearletariat #pearl playing the field #those stars of brightest magnitude #let's get down to bismuth #steven universe future #i love pearls just... bury me in a big pile of pearls honestly #endless wip pile #fanfiction #my fic

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basic-cable · 4 years

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Fic Rec Bingo

I saw this making the rounds on Twitter and decided I’d like to try it (mostly because I enjoy going back through my list and reminiscing about the ones I love but haven’t read in a while), but didn’t feel like Twitter was the best place to post mine. I’ve got both Dreamwidth and Pillowfort, but I haven’t really used them. This is probably the kind of thing that should go there, so maybe I’ll post it there, too. We’ll see.

Anyway, I only read in four fandoms, so maybe my recs will be boring to most people. But they’re good stories, and maybe there are even some people out there who haven’t read them.

I don’t expect any reblogs or anything, but maybe people will see it and decide they’d like to take part, and then there will be more fic recs out there making the world a better place.

I put them under a cut because the descriptions and stuff take up so much space.

1. A fic you love without knowing the source material Take the Pieces and Build them Skywards by quarterturn Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 44,816 ** Explicit ** Character Death Gerard's not happy with his life, but that doesn't mean he's particularly thrilled when he wakes up dead. To add insult to injury, he finds out that instead of crossing over, he's been chosen to join the ranks of the grim reapers. Things get more complicated when he falls for one of the living, a waiter named Frank Iero. And just when everything finally seems to be falling into place, Frank's name shows up on the list of souls to be reaped. Loosely based on the TV show Dead Like Me.

I don’t know anything about the TV show Dead Like Me; when I first read this fic in 2009, I had never even heard of it. I’ve wondered since then if I like it even better because I don’t know anything about the source material, but I’ll never know.It made me laugh and cry; it’s an emotional roller coaster, and I love it.

2. A fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but does

An Inexplicable Occurrence of Angels by stele3

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 35,192 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

I've messed with the band timeline, clearly. This is set in summer of 2005... but it ain't the Summer of Like. This is a story about second chances and gutting through your own failures, but never letting them defeat you. Take that, bitches.

Frank (Frank!) is a literal angel, okay, but there is not a thing I don’t love about this story. It’s angsty but still manages to be cute and charming as fuck, and the characterization is great.

3. A fic you’ve reread several times

Seeds by thesardine

Sherlock ** Gen, supposedly ** 5,475 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

In a fit of boredom Sherlock plants some seeds, may or may not eat one cracker, and definitely waxes dramatic on the sofa for a while.

Sherlock struggles with a bit of depression caused by boredom, and accidentally discovers a hobby he slowly learns to allow himself to enjoy. I love this a lot; the author takes us into Sherlock’s headspace, so you’re painfully aware just how much he needs a distraction, and how much better off he is with John in his life.

4. A fic you still remember many years later

In Care Of by Fangs_Fawn

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 45,319 ** PG-13 ** Child Abuse

During the summer before sixth year, Harry finds an injured bat in the garden and decides to try to heal it...and an unwilling Snape learns just what kind of a person Harry Potter really is.

Between the Dursleys getting what’s coming to them, and the redemption of Harry, Snape, and Dumbledore in each others’ eyes, this story has really stuck with me through the years.

5. A comfort fic

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 203,273 ** Mature ** No Warnings

The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street.

Thousands of words of fluff. Literally. There’s not a lot of conflict in this story, which makes it a great comfort fic when your mind is too busy or real life is too depressing.

6. A cathartic fic

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 157,369 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

"Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

Post-Reichenbach John is walking the line between fantasy and reality, choosing to stay with the Sherlock in his head rather than deal with the reality where he no longer exists. He eventually manages to attempt a normal life, but he’s bored and basically sleepwalking through his days, so when Sherlock finally reveals himself, it’s the best kind of relief. They go after the last remnants of Moriarty’s web, in hopes of a second chance at the life they should have had together.

7. A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf

Saving Sherlock Holmes by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John Mycroft/Greg ** 139,494 ** Mature ** Underage

Okay. So. This was literally supposed to be, like, three or four chapters as a prologue to the show. Sort of a "what happened in the Holmes childhoods to make them the way they are today." That's why it's set in the time period it is, because I thought I was eventually going to leave them to go on to the show. And then...I got a bit carried away and thought, Here I have established the two young Holmes boys. Now what happens if, instead of making them wait twenty years, I give them everything they need to fix themselves right now? Forty-three chapters later, you have this story.

To be honest, I would like to have most of my favorite fics in book form, with actual pages, that I could pluck from my actual shelf and sit and read without the glare of a screen between us. But I do enjoy the feel of this story, and I do believe it would make a good actual book.

8. A fic you associate with a song

Unholyverse by bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 186,764 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

“He thinks I have stigmata,” Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn’t get any worse. He might as well just lay it out.

“Oh, well,” said Brian into his hands. “Of course.”

Every time I so much as think about this series, MCR’s Heaven Help Us starts playing in my head.

9. A fic that inspires you

Turn by Saras_Girl

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 306,708 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Frankly, I love every single thing this author has ever churned out, but this one is my very favorite. Harry gets a glimpse into what his life could have been, and a chance to make big changes he desperately needs.

10. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

So, So Fucked by Anonymous

Bandom ** Pete/Patrick ** 12,565 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Pete accidentally "outs" himself and Patrick on Good Morning America. Only problem? They're not gay. What now?

I was reading strictly in Harry Potter at the time, and wasn’t interested in bandom at all, but my best friend was doing betas for someone who was writing in bandom, and she ended up getting into it and then wrote this one, and kept calling me about it to bounce ideas around, and the story was so cute, and Pete and Patrick were so cute, and I suddenly found myself totally invested. Honestly I think it may have been one of the best things that ever happened to me.

11. A fic you wish could be a movie

The Anatomy of a Fall by novembersmith

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 107,525 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

The unholy union of a high school AU and a ghost story. Gerard's life takes a strange turn when his family moves to a small town in Vermont and he discovers the locals aren't all what they seem to be. Also includes: unexpected nature walks, murder, pining, improper treatment of crime scenes, a number of bone-related puns, high school bullies, and a short-range shrub named Ferdinand.

This story has excellent imagery that I think would work really well on the big screen. Plus I can’t even hear the name of it without my heart doing flip-flops.

12. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

Seven ficlets for Valentine’s Day Part VII by RedOrchid

Bandom ** GSF ** 1,042 ** Mature? ** No Warnings

Panic-as-cleaning-equipment-AU Valentine's Day GSF.

I technically don’t have a fic for this bingo square, but this one comes close, I guess. The author was already in my larger circle of friends, but we didn’t actually talk to each other? She wrote this crack ficlet around the same time we started talking to each other more, and I still vividly remember it because of the genius involved in turning band boys into literal cleaning equipment. The line “Ryan bristled” has stuck with me to this day.

13. free space

Elf ‘Verse by mokuyoubi

Bandom ** GSF ** 103,247 ** Explicit ** Underage

Modern AU where Ryan is a famous poet, and he and Spencer are fiercely private and insular and stupidly co-dependent until Jon shows up and effortlessly breaks down all their walls.

Wherein Brendon and Frank are Christmas elves who, inspired by Will Farrell movies, venture into the real world to become rock stars. Or something of that nature.

I’ve got a lot of love for this universe for various reasons, but it’s also fun and heartwarming and honestly, I don’t really need anything else.

14. A fic you’ve gushed about irl

Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills by Jocelyn (and her mum)

Harry Potter ** Mostly Gen ** 137,385 ** Basically PG-13 ** Character Death

Harry mourns his godfather as the war finally begins in earnest, bringing tragedy and new struggles for all those on the side of Good. If they hope to win, all quarrels must be set aside, new alliances must be forged, and Harry Potter must find the courage to face down dark wizards, his own emotions, and a destiny he did not choose. Snape blows his cover as a spy to save Harry from Voldemort.

This begins after Order of the Phoenix, and the story and characters read more like canon than any other HP fic I’ve read, so because of that and because it’s so, so good, I like to rec this one to people who are new to fandom.

15. A fic you associate with a place

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 57,582 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Wiltshire! I’ve never actually been there, but this author is really good about details. The story is also lovely and funny.

16. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Home is a Name by Arsenic

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 39,314 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

MCR Clinic of Love. Companion fic to Wednesday Night Boys.

Okay, so this one is actually a sequel, and the first installment, Wednesday Night Boys, should 100% be read first. It must be said, though, that while the sequel doesn’t have any warnings, Wednesday Night Boys is about the Panic! kids as prostitutes, and has warnings for graphic violence, rape/non-con, and underage sex. The MCR guys work at the free clinic, and Home is a Name focuses on them. They’re honestly both gorgeous stories.

17. A fic you found at the right time

real or not real by thearkdelinquents

Anne with an E ** Anne/Gilbert ** 11,587 ** PG ** No Warnings

“I could do it.” Gilbert said, looking straight ahead.

Anne stopped. “What?”

He turned to look at her; they were just outside Green Gables now. “I could do it. I could court you.”

“What- We- You- I- You don’t like me like that.” Anne sputtered.

Gilbert smirked at her. “Well we could pretend. I could court you and be your fake boyfriend.”

For one of the few times in her life, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was speechless.

a fake dating fic but it's basically just a shirbert To All The Boys I Loved Before au.

I really, really loved Anne with an E. When the final season was released, I spent a weekend binge-watching the entire show, and then it was over and I was bereft, so I decided to see what was available on Ao3, and I found this, and it was exactly what I needed. And now I have another fandom.

18. A fic that you would read fic of

Left by lifeonmars

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 45,153 ** Mature ** No Warnings

John Watson is left-handed.

He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

In this universe, all right-handed people have some kind of power, or ‘knack’, most of which are mild and easily categorized. Sherlock’s is rare and believed to be the only one like it in the world. John is left-handed, part of the 10% of the population without a knack. I would read all kinds of fics of this fic.

19. A fic that made you laugh out loud

What to do When Your Flatmate is Homicidal by hyacinth_sky747

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 58,650 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock takes Molly's advice when dealing with his dangerous flatmate.

Heartwarming and hilarious. I laughed a lot.

20. A fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorised by heart

A Necessary Requirement by Bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 3,759 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Right, here is the extremely silly storylet I wrote BY HAND on holiday. On PAPER. With a PEN. My god. The things I do when I'm separated from my beloved net. It is set during the Summer of Like (Warped '05, for those of you who don't know) and is basically a product of my reaction to various pictures of Gerard groping himself on stage, which led to me obsessing about his dick and what it might look like. As usual, I chose to work this obsession out through Frank.

This fic could have gone to multiple other squares, but I am not usually the kind of person who can quote lines from things, and I have many lines from this story committed to memory. I’ve read it multiple times, because I read it every time I need a pick-me-up or a good laugh. Or if I’ve read something scary and I need something lighter before I can actually get up and move around my house...

21. A fic that gave you butterflies

Pretty Much A Sex God by adellyna

Bandom ** Spencer/Jon ** 3,985 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

Jon and Spencer’s first date.

The Jon in this story is so soft and warm and fluffy and his character makes my heart and stomach do weird things.

22. A fic that embodies something you value in life

A Marauder’s Plan by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

Harry Potter ** Harry/Hermione ** 865,520 ** PG13 ** Violence/Death/Underage

What if Sirius decided to stay in England and deliver on his promise to raise Harry instead of hiding somewhere sunny? Changes abound with that one decision...

ALSO

Harry’s New Home by kbinnz

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 318,389 ** PG-13 ** Abuse

One lonely little boy. One snarky, grumpy git. When the safety of one was entrusted to the other, everyone knew this was not going to turn out well... Or was it? AU, sequel to "Harry's First Detention".

In these two stories, Sirius and Severus throw everything they have into creating the best possible world for Harry, as he is their number one priority, because that is exactly how parenthood should be.

23. A favourite AU

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 156,714 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

This has got quite a bit of schmoop, which isn’t usually my thing, but this story is so, so good, and I always love stories that describe Sherlock realizing and appreciating how extraordinary John is.

24. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

Collared by VelvetMace

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 83,028 ** Explicit ** Violence & Rape/Non-Con

In a world where the British Empire is still strong and slavery is her economic backbone, John has become a terrorist for the abolitionist movement. He is caught by Mycroft, enslaved, and given to Sherlock for training. The goal: To test a new kind of slave collar with the power to break even the strongest willed fighter. One that will make even John learn to love being a slave.

Dubious consent, and humiliation. I remember staying up very late reading this one, even though I had to work early the next morning. I just couldn’t put it down.

25. A fic that made you feel seen

Buy Handmade by jjtaylor

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 18,755 ** Mature ** No Warnings

He knows something else is going to happen; his life isn't always going to be this. He just doesn't know what has to happen for that change to come, for him to wake up and become an artist with an Etsy page and a home studio, and to never have to see a cubicle again.

This is the story of my heart. I have felt Frankie’s feelings and thought his thoughts, and I love that he does something about it, and I love Gerard so, so much. I first read this in 2009, and my love for it has never wavered. I could have used this one for a good half of the bingo squares, but it’s the only one that could go here.

#fic rec bingo #bandom #sherlock #harry potter #anne with an e

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maluraunderchild · 5 years

Text

Something In The Air

(( Since it’s ‘Love is in the Air’ I wanted to do a story for Malura. There is a bit of a hint to some future stories for her in this))

Fuck.

When I wake up on Darsa’s couch in Deephaven I groan and roll off to the ground as I try to get my bearings. I’ve been bouncing from time way to time way just to avoid days like today. Days where the world is quiet and everyone is deep in their own romantic traditions. I’ve come to really hate Love Is In The Air. As a kid, I would make cards and give them to my friends. Darsa used to eat that shit up. He still does.

Even as I move through what should be Darsa’s private quarters I can hear him cursing from the kitchen. The smell of cherries and bread is overwhelming and I don’t want to see what he’s making Kat. They’re cute, like, I haven’t seen him this happy in years. But I’m a little salty and I’d just ruin whatever day he has planned.

“Oi, Dar, going to Stormwind. Need anything?” I called not even going into the kitchen he’s built over the summer.

He curses a little then laughs. “Na Shadow got all I need here. Can I ask if ya see your Ma or something tonight?”

Yup, called it. He’s going to do something cute for Kat. I have to humor him, after the shit he’s dealt with he’s needed a woman who inspires this side of him. Inspires and likes this side of him. “I’ll get myself a place to sleep. Maybe I’ll head to Tanaris and hang out with the dragons.”

He poked his head out from the kitchen and gave me a worried look. His normal black clothing was speckled with white flour. Years ago I think he would have laughed if he knew this was how he was going to look. All ruggedly noble with enough money to bake when he felt like it. “Do something good for yourself. Okay?”

I nodded, only because that’s what he wants me to do. “After the holiday is over I’ll buy a wheelbarrow of chocolate.” But I raise my hand and connect to the sands of time. I’ve gotten so used to this. Just slipping away. Letting myself become one with time and losing my touch on what would be my current time. Years of constant work has lead me to the conclusion that there is no such thing as ‘current time’, but I will define it better as the time that my friends and family live in.

As I return to the world I appear in the park in Stormwind. Couples are already holding hands, snuggling on benches. Something cold stabs my heart and I start to walk to my favorite coffee shop. I used to drink, but alcohol became a crutch that I had to kick at one point. At the point I was going through a bottle of scotch a night just to deal with myself, it was time to cut back.

The coffee shop is nice, that sort of hole in the wall place that gets packed at night when all the artists come out so they can sip on coffee and talk about struggles. This early in the morning it’s basically empty, and I like that. It’s fewer people I have to pretend around.

“Hey, Mark.” I said sitting down at a barstool and wave the barista down. He’s a cute guy, tall, lean, has stunning eyes that he flashes in everyone's direction so we feel special. He would have been my type when I was a kid. These days I’ve learned that I need someone else. Someone who doesn’t exist. “Can I get-”

But a large mug is put down in front of me. “Double shot of espresso latte. It’s already been paid for.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” I pick up the mug smelling the roasted beans and frothed up milk.

Mark shook his dark head. “Oh no, I didn’t pay for it. That guy did.” He pointed, and as I followed his finger it found nothing but air. When he looked he dropped his hand. “The hell. I swore he was just here.”

Something different grabbed my heart. I only know one person who slipped in and out of time to leave me things. My hands grip my scolding hot mug, not caring if I burn my fingers. “What did he look like. Tan? Bright blue eyes? Strange accent?”

The barista was still confused but shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that.”

Thank the gods... I don’t know what I would do if it had been him. Swallowing down a near panic attack I nodded and took a long drink from my coffee. I needed it to wake up, to make me think more. Maybe some random guy bought me a drink. It’s not the first time. Just normally that drink would be alcoholic and would be a way to get into my pants. It seems this time it’s not.

As I drink my coffee I pulled out the current romance novel. At least a romance novel isn’t going to treat me like shit. If I don’t like it, I don’t have to finish it. It really lets me have the reigns of the fantasy relationship. My current book was about a woman who falls in love with a San’layn. I’ve got half a mind to write the author and tell them if they need a sensitivity reader for her next book to call me. Cause she knew nothing about the undead bastards and I’m more laughing my way through this book than thinking about my ex... One of my exes. I really have shit taste in men.

I’m getting near the end of the book. The girl has to choose between the monster hunter of the San’layn, both guys are sexy idiots and I’m invested enough because the San’layn isn’t a total monster. I’m getting to the good part, the epic showdown when I smell it. The shop is still empty, but the scent crosses my nose. It smells like something warm with a spice I don’t know. Looking up and around again I swore I felt someone pass me, but Mark shuffles past with some napkins he’s going to fold.

It’s probably my imagination, or some of the coffee mixing together. I push it out of my mind and finish the book. Low and behold the girl chose the San’Layn and the monster hunter ended up with the girl’s best friend. I never said this was a good romance novel. Trashy romance novels have the merit of keeping me distracted for a few hours, and that’s good enough for me.

I pay a tip for Mark and head back to the streets of Stormwind. Darsa is right, I should get myself something for today. If I can’t get a boyfriend I could at least get a new romance novel to read for the night. The best part of the romance novel is the guy can get me all hot and bothered, but I won’t have to sneak out of his bed at six am.

The bookstore I frequent wasn’t far from the coffee shop. They specialize in more used books, and that sounds pretty good to me. Get a bunch of romance novels for cheap so the poor store can get more on their shelves.

As soon as I enter I smell the perfume of old books. It instantly relaxes me. I’m not one of those brainy mages who obsess over textbooks. But give me something to read to enjoy myself and I am all over it. Give me rows upon rows of stories that someone has made up and I’m a happy girl.

I make a b-line to the romance section to find it’s still jam-packed with books. People love donating romance novels, buying them is another story. No one wants to be in public with these things. I call bull shit on that, but I also don’t care what people think of me anymore. I want a book with a sexy half-naked guy, that is what I’m going to get!

Going through the books I try to find something that will be different but also give me the kind of night I want. I want something with adventure, that a guy and girl bond over something not just fall in love.

That smell crosses my mind again. That heat and spice. I stop again looking around. It wasn’t the coffee. But I don’t see anyone. When I look back to the shelf I see a book is slightly sticking out. It’s a book of a man who is only being covered by a bunch of silk at his groin. He’s laying back on a bunch of pillows with a more dressed woman leaning over him, her breasts barely being contained by her dress. The title catches me instantly ‘The Heart of Time’.

Flipping to the back I scan to read it’s a time traveler love story. I’m a time walker, I can appreciate a romance between a time traveler and normie. Sold.

When I go to pay the woman at the counter smiles at me and winks at my book choice. When she opens the book she lets out a small sound. “Hey this has some store credit.”

Blinking I looked at the slip of paper and at the price she had run my book up at. It was equally priced. My heart skipped a moment and something warm pooled in my stomach. That’s the second time today something I would normally get was paid for me.

“Looks like you’re in for a free book.” She handed it over to me taking the slip of paper so she could write down the store credit. “Have a great day!”

I mutter a reply and leave, but now I start looking around. Was it just a coincidence that both my coffee was paid by someone who vanished, and I ended up picking a book that had store credit inside? Looking around the street I don’t see anyone looking at me. But I’m a Timewalker. If you’re smart you will be invisible or hiding just outside of time.

I want to reach out, to see if I can sense someone, but who would try to do nice things for me? Maybe just one of my fellow Timewalkers? Sometimes we do stuff like this, little things to brighten each other’s days since we are so removed from people sometimes. Maybe that’s it. Someone is trying to be nice and give me a good day.

It’s better than thinking someone was stalking me.

Opening my book I start to read and walk back to the park. The book catches me quickly since the main female character is actually the time traveler. She’s used to letting time slip her by and has pushed away from the idea of romance... okay, that’s a little too close for home. But the guy she meets is an honest fellow who finds out she’s a time traveler and accepts her as she is.

I don’t even notice I’ve sat back down. It’s only when that scent comes back that I whip my head up and look around the park. No one is here. It’s just me. Me and anyone in hiding.

I’m a ballsy woman so I put the book down for a moment and start talking. “Okay, thanks for the coffee and the book. Are you going to come out and tell me who you are? Or am I going to have to hit the Caverns of Time to find out who you are?”

The smell is still here and I feel something warm beside me for a second before it’s gone. Reaching out through the sands of time I try to see who is sitting beside me. But I don’t know them. I can’t find anyone’s course through time that matches to the times I’ve felt someone close today. It doesn’t mean they aren’t there, it just means I haven’t met them yet.

My heart hurts for a moment. I want to ignore this. Tell myself it’s just my imagination. But every time that scent comes up I know someone is there. Someone who can’t talk to me but is here for me. Being a Timewalker that could mean anything, but picking up my book I shiver, the realization coming to me. Someone in my future knows today was going to be shit, so they’re giving me a good day.

I smile a little, but I can’t think of this as a romantic gesture. It’s just kind. “Thank you.” I swallow a bit then let out a sigh. “I won’t go hunting you down... I’m just, paranoid.”

Resting my hand down on the bench it touches something soft. There, like it had been forgotten by someone with a larger bouquet of flowers was a single red rose in full bloom. The most curious thing about it was all the thorns were gone. Uncle Archi demanded I learn the flower language along with my alchemy. A red rose means ‘love and respect’, but one without thorns means ‘love at first sight’, and a rose in full bloom means ‘I still love you’.

My vision blurs as som tears well up. pulling the flower I wonder if it’s been forgotten or if this was part of this strange day I’m having? The scent crosses my awareness again and I lower my head. I don’t want to fall in love again. I don’t think I can handle the breakup again. But there is a hope in me, one that no matter how stupid it would be, it hopes that this means something. That I won’t be alone forever.

Touching the rose I bring it up to my hair and tuck it in with one of my braids. My eyes are closed and I don’t search for who is doing this. Like with time, I need to accept things happen and I don’t need to control it. Let the chaos move, and I can stand at its eye. If there is someone who cares about me, let them. At least it means this shit day will be better because of them.

Once more I mutter out, to the person who I’ve never met, to the person sitting outside of time as they watch over me today. I mean what I’m going to say and I hope they know what it means to me. “Thank you, days like this can be absolute shit and, it means a lot to know someone has my back. When we finally meet, I hope you know I’m going to owe you a coffee and a trip to the bookstore.”

When I open my eyes I see something for a flash, as someone vanishes from my time to somewhere else. I don’t get any idea of what they looked like, but as they vanish, so does their scent.

(( Mentions: @kat-lockhart, @darsacarrington and someone not yet mentioned))

#Love Is In The Air #Something Is There #Someone Is There #Future story

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pretty-well-funded · 5 years

Text

rented omega pt 2

continued from part 1

Tony wakes up the next morning to his cock being mounted and ridden like a coin-operated pony.

It’s...well, it’s not a first, but honestly it’s not something that’s happened in a long time. It takes him a minute of staring up at the very young face on the mountee - a face he hadn’t inspected with any kind of detail the night before - to understand what’s going on.

The kid must misinterpret his blank look for outrage or something, because without slowing down, he says, “I’m sorry to wake you up, sir, I just...I just needed...”

“No, it’s fine, help yourself.”

The kid’s face goes on an interesting emotional journey at that (admittedly a bizarre thing to say, but he hasn’t had coffee yet, alright?), but chooses not to comment.

The position does make Tony wonder though... “Aren’t we, um. Supposed to use gravity or whatever to help with the...”

“When we can, but it’s not required every time,” the kid informs him. For all the omega-in-heat jokes, he’s remarkably collected. Maybe last night is just what happens when they’re neglected - not like Tony’s met an omega before, much less one that’s in heat. “It’s more important to inseminate me frequently than to use any particular position. The benches are just to make up for the fact that we can’t knot.”

“Ah,” Tony says eloquently, “that makes sense.”

“Right, so I’m probably going to regret asking this,” Tony says once he’s got caffeine in his veins, “but how old are you?”

The kid’s face - Peter, his name is Peter - does something complicated. “They didn’t give you my file?”

“Technically I think that they did, I just never, you know. Read it.”

Peter looks as baffled by that as he had by Tony’s offer of caffeine, which he is apparently verboten.

“Look, in all honesty, this was never my idea. I don’t want kids and I never intended to rent a person, but my board has me by the balls, so here we are.”

There’s a degree of alarm and reluctance now, on Peter’s face.

“NOT that any of that is your problem. I was being a selfish jackass last night - I won’t neglect your well-being again. Or, not on purpose. And if I do on accident, just sick JARVIS on me.”

The kid - and he’s definitely a kid - cocks his head, which only enhances his resemblance to a cocker spaniel. “Jarvis?”

“You didn’t introduce yourself?” Tony directs to the ceiling. It’s a pointless but helpful gesture for people experiencing J for the first time.

“Mr. Parker was out of sorts when he got here, Sir, I held off on introductions to prevent undue distress.”

Tony winces at the pointed use of the term, but ignores it. “So that’s J, or JARVIS - if you need anything, he can help. Hell, if there’s anything you just want to know. He’s hooked into all the electronic functions in the entire building, as well as Stark Industries’ databases and the internet at large, so he’s pretty handy.”

Peter’s eyes are huge and excited. “He’s an AI?”

Tony debates the company line for two seconds before shrugging and admitting, “Pretty much, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone.”

He winks, and Peter - adorably, hilariously - blushes. They had a Q&A earlier with Tony’s dick up his ass, and he didn’t look this out of sorts.

“Anyway, he’s used to running herd on me, so if I forget something you need, or forget that you...you know, exist, just tattle and he’ll sort it out.”

“Okay, thank you. And JARVIS?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker?”

“You can call me Peter.”

“I’ll adjust my protocols.”

Tony forgets all about the kid’s age until later when he kills some data compilation time with a skim of the kid’s file.

He’s fifteen, but like. Barely. Which. Makes sense. The board was all set on the freshest eggs. It’s not like contracted omegas sit on the shelf long after they hit the minimum age.

No wonder he looks so fucking young. Because he is.

“Sir, Peter is requesting you return to the penthouse at your earliest convenience.”

Duty calls.

Stud service is about as arousing as Tony always assumed it would be. He gets off - obviously, that’s the point - but it’s weirdly detached. Purpose-driven. Tony is mostly spurred on by Peter’s pheromones, and Peter by what seems to be a disturbing level of training. He’d rather not think about that.

The point is, neither of them are mad with lust, exactly.

Tony does all the work this time, for fairness’s sake, has a relatively frustrated orgasm (his body finds the lack of knotting to be very off-putting, apparently), and then Peter puts his legs in the air for good luck.

Tony excuses himself, and has JARVIS order takeout. Apparently his file - which Tony still hasn’t read - includes dietary restrictions and preferences. Which, of course it does, the kid’s gotta eat.

He’s about to make a break for it with his portion of the food when Peter finally wanders out, looking rumpled and flushed and more interesting to Tony than anyone should after he’s been there and done them.

“Where are you going?” Peter asks, sounding disappointed. Immediately, his eyes widen and he backtracks. “I’m sorry, sir, you don’t have to...thank you for...is this larb? I love larb!”

“Yeah, JARVIS said.”

There’s a pointed lack of reply from the AI himself, and Tony sighs, putting his food back down and resigning himself to dinner with the kid. Peter’s only reaction is a blush.

They eat in silence, at first, Tony staunchly ignoring the kid’s side-eye. Eventually the kid starts, tentative, “Mr. Stark, can I ask...how old is JARVIS?”

Tony pauses, doing the math - JARVIS is like his left hand, always there, essential. He hasn’t thought of a time *before* JARVIS in so long.

When he pinpoints the year of his programming and subtracts, Tony barks a laugh. “Older than you, apparently.”

“Oh, wow, really?” Tony’s half-expecting some crack on his own age, but Peter looks earnestly impressed and excited. “But other companies only achieved domain-specific expertise in like, 2014. If he’s that old... In the late 90s, IBM had just created Deep Blue. Did JARVIS start as a rules-based system, with later upgrades, or - ”

Tony stares at Peter while he babbles away. “How much do you know about AI?”

Peter’s cheeks pink, eyes falling abruptly back to his food. “I mean, not as much as you, but - “

“Do they - is that...allowed?”

A little frown appears between Peter’s eyebrows. “What, because reading books would make us less fertile?”

Tony blinks at the tone, and then JARVIS, bless him, chimes in, “Sir, no law prohibits the education of omegas, though most finishing schools don’t focus on advanced academics. There is, however, a demand for omegas with a high IQ for individuals like yourself, whose offspring are expected to excel. In fact, Peter’s intelligence was one of many factors that lead the Board to choose him.”

Peter looks flustered and embarrassed. “I’m an asshole, kid, I’m sorry. I don’t know much about...” He waves his hand vaguely.

“The treatment of one-third of the total population?” Peter snarks.

Tony feels a little smile start to form on his face. You don’t like people who pull punches, sir. “Yeah. I’m kind of a dick. So you learned about AI in school?”

“No, like JARVIS said, they don’t officially invest resources in that stuff. But the school’s firewall only blocked omega’s rights and stuff, and we could get just about anything delivered from the library, so...”

“So you learned it yourself.”

Peter shrugs. “As best I could, yeah.”

“To answer your question, I have some older ‘bots equipped with rules-based intelligence - they’re still in the lab, actually, you can meet them. But JARVIS started out closer to AlphaGo than Deep Blue. He was supposed to just be a natural-language user interface, but I overshot the mark a bit.”

By the incredulity on Peter’s face, he understands exactly what an understatement that is.

“But yeah, he’s had a lot of upgrades over the years. The biggest limiter was hardware, really, computing power. He’s the whole reason SI was miles ahead in computing technology. Every time I wanted him to be smarter, I had to invent the damn tech myself.”

“That’s so cool. I was talking to him all day. When did he develop theory of mind?”

Before Tony can answer, J chimes in, “Oh, I believe it was the Great Vodka Binge of 2001, wasn’t it, sir?”

Tony laughs. Peter is grinning.

“So he really is self-aware, right?”

“Oh yeah, true AGI.”

“Why isn’t...why doesn’t anybody know about him?”

“J is...” Tony licks his bottom lip, a nervous tick, and only realizes that he’s done it when Peter’s eyes flick down for a moment. “J is special. And frankly, dangerous. Very few people know the full extent of his abilities. I’ve created other AI that are more limited in capacity, but once you get them to a certain point, the only way to keep them limited is to deny them opportunities to learn. And that always seems...”

“Sad,” Peter says.

Tony smiles, warmed by Peter’s comprehension. “I was going to say barbaric, but yeah. Sad works, too.”

A lot like keeping this boy locked away from the world just because he can get pregnant. Tony doesn’t say that, but it sits there between them anyway, just like the larb.

lol, idk shit about AI, but hopefully I bluffed well enough. the suckiest thing about writing smart characters whose expertise is wayyyy beyond yours is trying to keep them sounding smart without like...getting yourself a degree in engineering.

anyway, obviously this one is a lot less perverted than romantic. variety is the spice of life, right?

Part 3

#my shit

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myfriendpokey · 5 years

Text

easy like sunday morning

I know it sounds funny but I just can't stand the pain.. Given the volume of critical writing on difficult games in recent years isn't it time to talk about some easy ones? Everybody loves talking about, 'Sekiro', but no-one ever talks about, 'Felix The Cat (NES) (1992)', a delightful game with many levels that stands out in my childhood memory as being one of the very few games I was ever able to complete within the Xtravision rental window. In these notes I try to lay down a preliminary basis for felix the cat studies.[1]

1. Firstly what is easiness, is it a quality or the absence of a quality, of a texture? I'd like to focus here specifically NOT on games which deliberately avoid the idea of 'challenge' altogether (Proteus, etc) but instead on games where challenge is both theoretically present and totally perfunctory, where it's both possible to die, and just easier not to.

2. And the strange sense of waste that this creates - the waste in having something and not needing it, of having some productive capacity lie fallow. The dream is to always have both an affordance and something to flex it on, in perfect sync. There are situations where exercising some affordance might give a bad outcome (use sword on king to increase crime meter etc) but in general the universe is set up so that your acting, your being, your bodily striving has a useful and productive effect on the world at large – we hope, ha ha ha. We have no reason to doubt that we use our affordances, rather than that our affordances are using us. In an easy game this relationship becomes more uncanny - we get a sense of how an affordance can be baggage, a kind of painful excess of productive energy that comes with a vague, felt obligation to use it all up in some manner. The machine speaks through us just as much as if we were playing any bullet hell - but it does so less through an overload of stimulus than through lack of it, through opening a space, which the ambient noise of the body then rushes to fill. The aimless, stupid twitching of our flesh as it burns off all the energy which is socially and economically surplus to requirements is directed and made visible, jumping back and forth onscreen in the mocking form of a smiling platform cat, a form of automatic writing.

3. I'd actually like to avoid making a moral or political case for easy games as having some intrinsic social value (that they resist the 'investment' of skill mastery, that they undercut feelings of power and control, or that they indeed actually represent a new form of meta-difficulty in testing your ability to reject false measurements of success and artificial scarcity and that therefore playing Goldeneye with infinite ammo cheats on is praxis or something.[2]) These might be useful qualities at some moment or another - but I think they also show the strange, magic-eye effect, of trying to write about easiness in itself, writing about absence without just converting it into another kind of presence (I'm sure I have failed multiple times and will fail multiple more). So easiness in videogames is constantly at risk of becoming just a different kind of difficulty, or some form of symbolic content - rather than the lack of such difficulty, or the lack of such content... In the context of videogames, a new media form busily involved with stockpiling content and meanings and symbolism and justification of all kinds, in trying to fill itself up and out, the idea of their emptiness is somehow quite threatening.[3]

4. Difficulty in games tends to be framed as a challenge to the primacy of the self, or as an estrangement, something that pushes you out of your comfort zone. It wakes you up, makes you more alert. Easiness by comparison is a sop to the self - indulgent, a narrowing of horizons. Easiness is mainstream, difficulty is avant-garde - and discussions of difficulty in games tend to draw a lot upon comparisons to older avant-garde art or literature. I'm in favour of avant-garde videogames but i think part of claiming that tradition should be a willingness to critique it, too. For example, difficult games are some of the most popular ones to stream - are these challenging the self? To an extent they allow the performance of the self, as manifested in angry outbursts, "reacting" in some characteristic manner, individuating oneself through accomplishment or distinctive playstyle, demonstrating personal qualities such as persistence and strength of will, very little of which could be said to come through in your average Felix The Cat longplay. And while Marvel movies and longrunning tv shows are seldom difficult in the same way as experimental art they do at least tend to gesture at the idea and feeling of a certain difficulty, an emotional strenuousness, a conflict to overcome. We don't just get a whole movie of Spiderman trying on 100 different hats. Some kind of difficulty is prized in both cultures, with the difference being that of location and degree. The idea of the modernist shock, the abrupt estrangement that jolts the (presumably bourgeois, etc) viewer out of their habitual comfort zone, sits awkwardly against comparatively more recent concepts like Naomi Klein's idea of the “shock doctrine” or Paul Virilio's writings on the bombarded, exhausted viewer - or indeed with that most modern form: the hot take, the truly gratuitous and combative opinion, tossed at the unsuspecting for the sake of wreaking minor carnage. The succession of shocks here don't so much disturb the self as confirm it as a thing apart, defined in negative against the tumult outside and valued as a refuge from that outside. Maybe we take it to the gym now and then, we test it out upon some pre-selected object of difficulty to keep it in shape, but afterwards the gate goes down and the wall goes up. I don't think difficulty is bad or illegitimate but if psychic reconfiguration is the goal then how about a modernist slackening instead? In the vein of Stein, Pessoa, Walser, Musil - "the game without qualities". Lured into roaming outside of its protective carapace the brain starts to dissolve, sprawl, melt into gloop, be devoured by ants.

5. Experience of playing an easy game: there’s no pushback, there's no skill check , a string of easy victories lead you forward without realising, or leads a part of you forward, there's no moment where you have to pull yourself together and decide just how much more of your time you wanna spend on this thing, a chirpy character onscreen is declaiming "GREAT!" and "SUBURB!" as you shoot pellets at more enemies, whatever aimless drive or impulse you flicked toward this thing to test it has not yet slowed down or returned, it's like dropping a pebble down a well, and waiting for the sound, and waiting forever - and then there's a plop! and whatever the process was, it's finished, you blink, try to remember what you were doing, wander off, still adjusting to the light.

6. The history of aesthetics is that of converting new kinds of necessity into new kinds of virtue [4]. Difficulty is a virtue in videogames, but it started out as a necessity, as well - as a prefab form handed down from the old mechanical amusements, a way to aestheticise (and commercialise) material resistance at a time when material resistance was almost all that videogames had to offer[5]. As certain kinds of difficulty emerge as objects of attention a reversal takes place: instead of difficulty being a way to engage with videogames, videogames become a way to engage with a certain kind of difficulty. Difficulty becomes a sign that unites a diffuse and heterogenuous field of garish electronic debris into a single medium and an aesthetic – this becomes part of what videogames *are*, and persists even when the original reasons for that difficulty become less and less present, and as 'difficulty' comes to exist mainly as a set of inherited structures and modes of representation (health bar, life counter etc). To make something that looks like a videogame in every way but has no difficulty is in a way to re-historicise it, to cut the thread which holds all the parts together - now the game collapses into a set of disembodied effects, sounds, gestures, machinery, which exist not so much as the expression of an aesthetic as an expression of the material history behind that aesthetic. The easy game is not a game but a kind of game-byproduct, an industrial accident that gives clue to the inner workings of the machine.

7. The mysterious purgatory that is the solved or near-solved state of a videogame, aimless and uncanny, an image of fulfilled desire: maybe not your desire, but somebody's, or some part of you. Think of playing with cheat codes: a few minutes ago you might have been desperate to get BLUE SWORD [RARE], now you can't get rid of the things. A routine complaint in popular longform games is that people just end up getting too much money and not having enough endless pits to dump it all into (thorstein veblen real??). And this is a known thing and trite to even remark upon and usually the point where the discussion turns into pop-psychology liturgy of how the human brain is "broken" and "hard-wired" to need new challenges and etc. I don't care, I'd like to spend more time within this twilight area, to construct as diligent and thorough a map of its empty rooms and blockages and tiny, shifting, hypersubtle moments of enjoyment or deep melancholy as the one we already have for Diablo clones and similar. I think here of stuff like EJ Gold's games which claim to depict (indeed, allow you to perform rituals within) the bardo realms waiting after this world, where you roll around endless corridors collecting icons to accumulate money and charisma for your next life, and where for some reason there's a button to fire out pellets despite there being no enemies to kill. Videogames are depressingly, predictably excellent at producing new manifestations of inferno; I think, for the same reasons, that they could produce some very interesting paradises as well.

Is Felix The Cat a good game? Or is it in fact the only game, and also i'm dead and my spirit has been trapped inside of it? I hope the above comments make my feelings known. All i can do from here is recommend you watch Docfuture's Sonic Easy Mode video, and contemplate the world that could have been.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-ef8SD9gUg

[1] Just imagine it - instead of endless essays on "how completing, not completing, not playing VIDEOGAME made me a better person, worse person, more divorced person delete as appropriate" we would instead get endless essays on "how playing VIDEOGAME left me more or less the same person, I suppose, I don't really remember. But I did like the beach level".

[2] Having said this I of course realise that this is totally inevitable and look forward to BABYMODECORE, the videogame movement for people who always instinctively pick the lowest difficulty setting and want to reclaim such powerful formative experiences as beating up on the test dummy character in Tekken (and being scared that one day he'd glitch out and hunt me down instead)

[3] I wonder if part of the hatred for "asset flips" that they just replicate the shape of a videogame without filling it up with justificatory content, abstracting it somehow.

[4] Mangled from a line in F. Jameson's "Marxism and Form"

[5] Like early digital forms of old mechanical arm wrestling machines and punching bags - which slowly became part of that mysterious stock repository of ancestral videogame dream imagery, the minigame collection.

#felix the cat #easy games #commodores 64

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unimpressedperson · 6 years

Text

akai-ito

(Found this cute picture in @btsreactionmemes. Thank you for posting it, sweetheart)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: None, I guess.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x @agustdlovcult, Min Yoongi x Reader

Word Counting: 7.8k

Synopsis: Jade always obsessed over stability, wondering about how her best friend, Jung Hoseok, could live wildly and moving from place to place, relationship to relationship constantly. Once the only thing she most valued was taken away, drinking a little seemed fair. Her choice made a new connection, an akai-ito. Yoongi and Jade had one thing in common uniting them.

A/N: Hey Jeeeeeeeeed! What's up? After weeks of waiting I finished it! Hope you enjoy it. The character itself isn’t a reflection of your personality, ‘cuz you are one of the best creatures I have ever met. It has a total of 7.824 words, but comparing to what you deserve, it’s nothing. Hey Jadie, I love you and hope you are feeling alright :) Sorry for the bad grammar, hope you enjoy it x

- x - x - x - x -

Jade was pissed off. Everything around couldn’t seem or sound more annoying, from footsteps, pigeons walking on the sidewalks (c’mon birds, what were your wings made for?), even the slightest signal of loud breathing could trigger the woman into punching someone. She marched across the streets, arms tight in front of her chest, pressing the thin white sweater firm against body. Her steps were noisy, white sneakers hitting the asfalt harshly and expressing how angry Jade was.

Her morning began normal. Alarm rang 7 a.m, waking Jade up to another day of working, seeing the same faces all over again, talking about repetitive subjects, as if her life was nothing but a clockwork, repeating day after day the same boring routine established by human biological needs supplied by money, which buys foods, snacks and pays for Netflix. Well, it also reimburse bills, rent and gas, but it’s always implicit anyways.

Usually, living the weekly cycle wouldn’t bother her. As long as that routine left her free from getting in debt, then no changes were necessary. Jade had been living like that for over five years now, why to change? Take the risk of becoming unhappy and indebted. Goosebumps would run up her spine whenever imagining such possibility.

Feeling safe and sound, Jade enjoyed that sensation. Whenever she drove her car, arrived at home and had dinner peacefully, any doubts or thoughts of quitting her 9 to 5 job would vanish. Pasta tastes better than starving. However, not everyone she knew lived like that, Hoseok was, quoting Jade’s own words, completely out of his mind, moving and crashing into a different home every month, coaching dance in several academies, but never establishing in one for longer than five groups of 30 days. His routine was so unsure and unpredictable.

Of course, Hoseok always had something new to tell. Everytime their group of mutual friends decided to reunite in a bar, the currently redheaded man would entertain everyone with a story about how he spent three nights sleeping on a janitor’s room, or how he convinced someone met on Tinder to let him live for a whole month into his house. The man had no boundaries or roots, anyone related to Hoseok would admire it, except for Jade. She always listened and judged his choices as something out of reality.

She never felt surprised by his wild, borderline insane, tales. They met young and even back in then, Hoseok was a gypsy and lived happily by not settling. Basically, according to Jung Hoseok himself, after watching his parents divorcing and having two different homes, not digging roots and always gaining for a period of time somewhere new to name as home, felt like relieve. Jade always offered to pay him some psychiatrist appointments, because not a single thing from his discourse sounded sane for her.

Who the heck would possibly feel constantly happy, mainly not knowing if there would be a roof above his head next morning? Her thoughts on Hoseok were so low, that after hearing he bragging about fucking with a girl only to sleep at her place, Jade lowered even more the standards for him.

However, that morning something happened, a situation which her mechanic had guaranteed wouldn’t happen so soon: the car broke. Something about a fan inside engines. She couldn’t rationalize what was happening with the automobile, not whilst trying to run and get a bus to downtown. By the way, not knowing the schedule to public transportation can kill any tight routine, and Jade found it out quite late, literally, her shift began at 9 a.m and by 8h45 a.m she was not even close to get there.

Working as a hospital receptionist, punctualism was a must, which was Jade’s forte. She hardly arrived late for any occasion, missing a day of work? Not even in her wildest dreams. Mainly in an important day, like when the boss scheduled to pay a visit and check if his investments were in good (read responsible) hands.

What were the odds? Murphy’s Laws are a bitch. Jade hated with all heart The Chaos Theory, mainly watching years of good work ruining in front of her eyes, as 9h45 approached and she was still seating still on one of the subway’s benches. Her receptionist co-worker texting and asking where the fuck she was, quit reading them after replying three and feeling desperation racing the heart, making it pound against her ribcage.

Every functioning speaker inside the wagon announced an emergency stop, ‘cuz apparently someone decided that rush hour was an appropriate moment to jump in the rail tracks. 10h12 a.m and the subway began moving again. Jade melting on her seat.

In the moment she arrived in her station, Jade jumped off the wagon and ran with every remained trace of oxygen. Driving a car, and counting on the traffic jam, she would have had arrived in 45 minutes, even with accidents and SNOW she never took over 2 hours to get at the hospital.

After sitting on her desk and gaining a very intimidating stare from the co-worker, Jade began turning the computer on and answering calls. She wanted to act as nothing odd have had happened, working hard to compensate the delay. Typing faster than ever, scheduling examinations and MRIs, some x-rays, also paying attention everyone arriving and asking for directions. Her determination was admirable, but things never were purely good, not in such a shitty day.

Between schedules and calls, Jade took a look on the Excel spreadsheet and the agenda she noticed a BIG FAT mistake. When arrived and desperately began working, she forgot to check which day was marked on the page she began typing the examinations and appointments, after two hours nonstop Jade realized that everything were written and scheduled for the day before. Conclusion: all the work worthed nothing and she spent her shift fixing everything.

The boss was nowhere near happy with all delay and asked Jade’s manager about her performance. It was no secret that Mindy disliked Jade, but no one would ever imagine the woman lying by criticizing nonexistent flaws, such as constant lateness and rudeness against patients, and about incompetence. Well, he took her dirty words for granted and didn’t even bother in asking for more than one opinion.

To put it shortly: Jade was no longer a St.Bartholomew's employee.

Jade left the building feeling anger consuming every pore and cell inside her body. Five years, not five months. FIVE FUCKING YEARS living, breathing, eating and existing around working for St.Bartholomew and suddenly a shitty day was enough to be kicked out, as if every extra shift and hard working, good execution and quick learning meant nothing.

Ok, maybe she wasn’t the best co-worker. Possibly a bit rude sometimes. Hardly joined everyone in get-togethers or lunches. Never contributed in paying birthday cakes (or joined the choir when Happy Birthday began), but at least Jade always replied the “good morning”, “good afternoon” and “good night” proffered to her. So what she barely answered texts? Or befriended almost no one, except for the security guard, from there? Not everyone is a social butterfly such as Hoseok, she had close friends and were glad with them.

Also, you don’t get a prize or ‘Best Co-worker Award’, but working hard would always turn into remunerated vacations. Who would even think that treating people with indifference can actually hurt them? What is she now? Dr.Phill? Oprah?

While furiously wandering around the avenue, Jade figured that a huge glass of Martini would help. No! Not a Martini, but a whole bottle of wine and Cup Noodles, watching thoroughly some high-quality Netflix content. Maybe inviting friends over? No, not friends, she wanted distance from humankind for a few hours.

- x - x - x - x -

Jade was walking to Walmart, when someone began calling her name. She searched for whoever that was (possibly wishing to punch that person), but got startled in the moment Shmailah appeared from inside the shoes store beside her, carrying a huge bag. They hugged and the conversation started, whilst looking for a bar or pub.

– What a shitty day, Jadie. - Shims said caressing her friend’s back, watching her swallow in one long sip a cup of vodka. - Let me pay your drink, you deserve some comfort now.

– I still have money, Shims. - Jade said and grinned, even wishing to sink down in a whole gallon of hard liquor. - But if you really want to pay me something, then next month you can take charge of a few bills.

– Don’t be silly, you’ll find another job like that. - The girl with dark hair and shiny eyes said, snapping fingers and smiling, sipping on her chocolate milkshake right after.

The music playing around them was calming, rhythm soothing and healing, if the words sang repeatedly weren’t so painful and sad, then the ambience would feel even romantic. Whoever were the responsible could fucking drown with Jade and her good mood, since she was feeling like a whole dumpster and the voice’s owner was probably someone quite sensitive.

– I’m going to punch that man singing. He is making me feel sad and lonely. - Jade said and took a short sip on the vodka. - Somehow his voice is making me want to start dating someone, only to break up and say those words along. Music is powerful, dude.

– He is also quite cute. - Shims uttered looking in the small and darkened stage, glaring at a small, skinny, black-haired, korean guy with noticeable cute cheeks, playing his guitar and singing with soul and body. - Ugh, whoever cheated on him probably didn’t see it coming. What a sad song.

– We are so much better. - The small korean guy sang, a deep voice astounding those who paid attention. - When we are, not together.

Jade looked back, trying not to fall from the chair and stared at where Shims was also looking. Indeed, he was cute, talented and kind of hot… Wait a second, Shmaillah never said anything about him being hot. Maybe Jade was already lightheaded, so brand new unannounced information popped up inside her head like internet pop-ups, or Youtube advertisements.

Employed Jade would never drink at 5 p.m and think dirty stuff about someone unknown at 6 p.m. What a turn of events in less than 24 hours, huh?

– Shims, can you please help me go there and give him money? - Jade asked raising one eyebrow. - I want so bad to give him something, and I think money wouldn’t be considered harassment.

– Jadie, we can totally go there, but please stop drinking, it’s your second cup and you’re already planning to get laid with someone you know nothing about. - The dark-haired woman said seriously and smiled, not leaving traces of tension. - Two more cups and you’ll be starting to consider raising kids with him.

– Our children would look great, ok? - Jade said laughing and finishing her second cup of vodka, still staring at the singer.

They kept on talking, well, Shims started commenting on something about Hoseok. Apparently the redheaded man is now dating some guy he met during one his classes in an University (Jade didn’t even knew Hoseok graduated in something other than High School). Someone named Taemin and also a great dancer. Jade moved her glare from “The Singer” only to login in Facebook and find Hobi’s new boyfriend.

It’s not like Jade was surprised Hoseok was dating. They met during High School, and beside all differences, their friendship lasted long and remained even after so many years. Not surprisingly, the group began growing considerably with Hobi inviting Taehyung, who brought his love interest together, Shims, which introduced them to Taylor, Zariah, Robin, DiLayla, Bárbara and Emerson, she who had been dating Kim Namjoon, a friend of Seokjin, Jungkook and Jimin, whose great humour ended up mingling well and becoming part of the pack.

Whoever decided to understand their group of friends from an outsider perspective, would probably go nuts, because not even them understood. Also, their relationship was complicated, basically, everyone at some point kissed everyone, except for the long lasting couple Emerson and Namjoon. The greatest bacchanal began when Taehyung and Shims broke up for the first time and he made a move towards Di, they kissed, but never ignited a make-out session. Shims would never be left behind and called Jin, who was fighting with Zariah (his significant other, and possibly the closest person).

Shortening a long and rather intrincated story: Jin is now engaged to DiLayla, Jimin and Robin got surprisingly closer, Shims and Taehyung are still together, Namjoon and Emerson is the unproblematic couple, Zariah is dating someone called Bang Chan (she never formally introduced him, so he is not officially part of The Chaos Club), Taylor even denying is totally dating Jungkook, and Bárbara is with someone called Lisa, an actress who spends more time in Korea than in New York. Jade had a short affair with Jimin, but the man liked Binnie way too much. She also dated for a long time someone called Calum, and after the breakup decided to focus on her career.

While Shims kept on discussing the probabilities of Hoseok remaining into that relationship for longer than two months, Jade was far and deep inside her own mind, tangling herself between thoughts and drunk fantasies, “The Singer” somehow appeared as well, his voice working as the narrator for whatever she was thinking.

– It’s been so long every since I felt something other than indignation towards Hoseok. - Jade pronounced out loud, with a bass voice, imitating “The Singer”.

– What? - Shims questioned chuckling.

– Sorry, I was thinking out loud… With another voice in my head. - Jade explained and brushed off. - But I'm serious, I broke up with Calum four years ago and every since then I never felt another warm sensation other than tears, whilst watching some emotional crap on Netflix. I went to dates with some dudes, but things never… You know, never made my heart beat faster and all that romantic and lovey dovey stuff.

– Complicated. - Shims furrowed her eyebrows, raising them in an arc seconds later. - The Singer stopped singing and is taking a break. It's now or never. - She pushed Jade's chair and watched the woman trying to let her long dark-blonde hair down.

– I don't know what to say. Should I buy him a drink? - Jade questioned worried sick and smoothing out her clothes, and obviously trying to procrastinate. She just got fired and felt touched by a sad song, it’s not like Jade actually wanted to go on a date, maybe get laid, but not while feeling emotionally wrecked and confused.

Fuck. Jade wanted to chicken out, but something on Shims eyes seemed very intimidating and without realizing, her legs began working on their own, guiding a half-drunk woman in The Singer’s direction.

There he was. Standing beside the stage with a glass of wine on one hand and checking his cellphone. His black hair fell like a sheer, soft-looking curtain on his forehead covering a bit of his small and dark eyes. A big black shirt with long-sleeves folded to the elbows, jeans painted the same colour, with trenched knees, and a dirty pair of Vans. Ok, the man seemed even hotter staring him closer. Jade wanted to run and have four more drinks before going home, but before she could escape, he looked up and saw a woman looking at him, without blinking.

– Can I help you? - He asked with a voice as soft as his hair, no trace of accent found.

– Hmm, Jade. - The woman said, trying desperately to find coherent words, but only facing a HUGE URGE to use her long hair like a cocoon, hiding and only leaving when butterfly wings grew on her back. - I mean, my name is Jade.

– Nice to meet you, Jade. - The man said and binned his cellphone in one of the back pockets. - My name is Min Yoongi. Can I help you with something? Like teaching you how to blink.

– What? - Jade raised her eyebrows and blinked a few times before smiling and slowly remembering how to act like a proper adult, not a drunk grown up, which was her actual situation. - Sorry about that. You’re a really good singer. Is that song yours?

Min Yoongi smiled, a gummy and cute smile. He sat down on the stage and patted the wood beside, inviting a very flustered Jade to join him. That simple action made the blood before accumulated on her body flow straight to her cheeks, warming the whole face. Nevetheless, she took the place beside the skinny man.

– Thank you. And no, the songs I chose for today aren’t mine. - Yoongi proffered, looking at Jade. - They are from a korean band called NELL. I do compose, though.

– You are hot and talented, of course you also compose. - Jade almost bit her tongue after letting those words accidentally escape. - Sorry. I’m visibly punchy and pissed off at the St.Bartholomew’s Hospital.

– Thank you and I’m sorry, I guess. - Yoongi said, not knowing exactly what to say, but feeling his cheeks getting warmer. - Well, I only have to sing for more ten minutes and then I’m free. Do you want to talk about it, whilst drinking a soda? I ain’t gonna pay you more alcohol, or you’d become a walking fire hazard.

– Deal. - She said and stood up, shaking hands with Yoongi and walking in the bar’s direction, flustered and internally panicking, leaving a smiley man behind.

Jade made her best to sit beside Shims and not fall. Yoongi was clearly staring, so slumping to the ground would be rather embarrassing. She stayed silent, ‘til listening to his voice singing again, then turned to her friend and began speaking.

– I was about to ask if you wanted me to help you getting home safe and sound, but now I’ll just casually leave. - Shims chuckled and touched her shoulder. - I ain’t gonna third wheel your first date in ages.

– Shims! I’m not in condition of dealing with such a cute and hot guy! - Jade was still tipsy and holding the tears. - My plan before meeting you was to buy a ton of Cup Noodles and wine, so I could mildew alone at home. You can’t leave me with him! I strongly doubt someone would ever feel attracted to a grown ass woman whining and sobbing.

– See, Jade, I will stand up, pay my bar tab and leave. - The dark-haired woman said while petting her friend’s arm. - You can do whatever seems right. If running for your life sounds better than speaking to someone so talented and sweet, then go for it.

– Thank you. That’s exactly what I’ll do. - Jade told and stood up after grabbing a twenty dollar bill and some dimes inside her pocket, throwing everything on the counter, trying to leave without stumbling and falling, being followed by a giggly Shims.

- x - x - x - x -

Unsurprisingly, in the moment Jade arrived at home with four chicken-flavoured Cup Noodles and box of wine, she immediately felt regret for leaving the bar. Placing all the food on the kitchen table, she dragger herself to one sofa, laying heavily there.

– What the fuck? - Jade questioned staring at the ceiling. - Why such a shitty day? What the actual fuck, God? Not a single good thing happened to me! I know I’m not the most interesting human being walking on earth, but I certainly don’t deserve to be punished twice in a single day. - She turned to one side, looking at the TV and seeing her reflection there, shrunk in a fetal position. - Great, now I’m speaking to myself. Unemployed and crazy. Even worse. Unemployed, crazy and definitely not getting some.

Weary of staring at her own misery reflected on the turned off TV, Jade decided to stick to the original plan: eat Cup Noodles, drink wine and watch as many cliche, lameass rom coms as she could find on Netflix.

It’s The Notebook night, bitch.

…

– WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN, MR.DARCY? - Jade yelled at the TV, accidentally dropping one of the chopsticks, a bunch of used and new tissues around her tiny figure in comparison to the huge sofa. - Elizabeth loves you! True love is a total lie.

She was sobbing in a pool of self-pity and tears, some of them drying on her cheeks, some just bathing her old pajama t-shirt (a very ancient Bananas in Pajamas one). Totally fed after consecutively gulping down two Cup Noodles and three glasses full of wine, considering the idea of ordering some pizza and a male stripper.

– Goddamn Lord. That Yoongi guy ruined me. - Jade thought out loud, after picturing herself calling somewhere with strippers. - Before listening to his depressive songs and staring at his cute eyes and cheeks, I was satisfied with my nonexistent romantic life, now I’m considering the idea of nurturing a very dirty business. What the fuck? Why am I talking to myself again? Gosh, I better stop drinking. - She placed her glass on the coffee table, but not before chugging the wine.

Jade knew that “The Self-care night” was pure bullshit. She wished to avoid at every cost thinking about her day. Rationalizing all the occurred would make her feel desperate and sad, a bit anxious as well.

Stability. That’s exactly what Jade looked for her whole life. A settle down lifestyle, without worrying about money or having a roof above her head.

After leaving her parents home and going to college, she defined as a goal to live comfortably somewhere secure, with a good job and being able to eat, sleep, spend a bit more without losing her mind over lack of money. Stability, she found it and established in a small apartment, working everyday and slowly acquiring more and more stuff.

Most people considered her lifestyle a bit boring. Not even a single worry. Nothing different happening. No adventures. The friends admired her strength and how hard Jade worked, but would never trade some of their “easy struggles” for her settled living. It was incredibly predictable and perfect. Completely opposite to what Hoseok lived by. The young man took YOLO way too seriously and constantly found himself drowning in debts, but somehow also always gained money paying everything and going back to exploring what life had to give.

Totally opposites. Two different polarities from a same magnet. Although, in such a complicated situation Hoseok was always the first person Jade thought about calling. They knew each other for long enough to trust and deal with their differences as well as with similarities.

After the end scenes of Pride and Prejudice, Jade grabbed her cellphone and still sobbing dialed Hoseok’s number, hoping he could answer the call and chat a little bit.

– Hey, Jeed. - Hoseok picked up and said happily, as always. A loud music playing around him. - What’s up? Everything is smooth and soothe?

– Hey Hobi. - Jade tried to speak without crying, but thinking about the current situation made a sobbing mess of her. - Everything is shitty. So shitty. Oh Hobi, my life is ruining like Constantinople!

– Calm down, my friend. - He asked, voice soft and sweet as a sunny day of summer. Loud music still could be heard, slightly fading as Hoseok walked far from where he originally was. - Tell me what happened, don’t spare details, you know I love them.

– Aren’t you busy? I can hear a loud EDM music. Are you working on any dance academy? Or worse, were you busy WITH Taemin? - Jade questioned feeling a bit of guilt filling her guts.

– Don’t worry, Jeed. I’m in a party, some friend of mine took a job as DJ and invited me to prestige his work. Nothing new, I attend to gigs like that almost everyday. - Hoseok uttered, still using his sunny sounding voice. - Now tell me, what happened?

– If you insist… - She sighed and poured some more wine, ignoring her own promise of stop drinking. - I was fired from my job on that hospital, St.Bartholomew. But before being dismissed, my day began shitty when the car broke and I took public transportation. Traffic jam, accident in an avenue, someone tossed itself on the rails making me two hours late. I fucked up some Excel sheets and scheduled appointments, my boss was there checking if everything worked alright and Mindy, the nurse and manager I commented with you that hated me, she lied and it made me get fired. Unemployed and sad. That’s how I am.

– But I feel that something else happened after being fired. Did someone hurt you? - Hoseok asked. Now Jade could no longer hear the EDM song playing as a background sound.

– Well… I met someone at a bar with Shims. - Jade felt her cheeks getting warm only by thinking about Yoongi’s voice. - I bumped on her and we decided to have some drinks to seize my pain. After two vodkas, I decided to chat with the cute guy singing there, and fuck, he was hot and invited me to drink some soda, ‘cuz he wouldn’t pay me more alcohol or, in his own words, I’d become a fire hazard. He got back on stage to finish his presentation and I ran away from that bar, even after accepting his drink offer.

– So now you’re feeling lonely and guilty? - The redheaded man questioned, she could picture him raising one eyebrow in disapproval. It made Jade grin and stop crying.

– Basically.

– Did you even ask the man’s name? Or you just said something incredibly smart, flirted a little and then made him fall for your beauty? - Again the disapproval voice, she could picture one of his eyebrows almost touching the hairline.

– I did ask, you moron. Stop assuming I was that drunk. - She cooed and looked at the wine inside her glass. - Min Yoongi.

– Ooooh! You flirted with Min Yoongi? And he didn’t turn you out? Lucky girl. - Hoseok’s sunny voice made a comeback, changing back to disapproval seconds later. - Bad news, now he probably hates you.

– I know, I would hate myself too. - Jade murmured, feeling sad again. - I wish I could talk to him again and explain everything, maybe justify all the mess.

Hoseok told Jade that he would turn off the phone, but was going to call her in a few minutes. Giggling, the redheaded demanded her to not pass out or go to sleep, receiving a very ugly word in response.

Before getting to actually know Hoseok and Jade, people would always assume they were a couple. A common mistake, considering how close and for how long they would’ve been annoying and supporting each other. Everytime one had a problem, the other would automatically try its best to solve or at least help. Monetarily (as Jade assisted Hobi so many times) or emotionally (as they used to lend a hand more often than both would ever admit).

Nevertheless, their relationship never crossed the thin line between everlasting friendship and romantic bond. What they had was so rare and unique, that even after bringing so many new friends to their “pack”, some sharing more similarities with both, Hoseok and Jade only fully trusted each other.

Despite everything mentioning, affirming and proving how strong their bond is, Hoseok and Jade indeed had REAL and SERIOUS fights. Once the argument made them stop talking to each other for almost a whole year, when they detached everything they could possibly keep in common (even mutual friendships, that’s when most couples formed actually).

During that period of time where Jade and Hobi were separated, Taylor mentioned something about ‘akai-ito’, a serie she watched with Jimin and found very intriguing. Basically, akai-ito is a thin red yarn connecting every human being, uniting mainly soulmates. Everyone shared an ‘akai-ito’ sometimes with more than one person ‘cuz it worked both with friends and romantic bond.

Apparently, the red wire connecting Hoseok and Jade never allowed them to detach forever. After one full year not even glancing in the other’s direction, he had serious problems with a girlfriend and needed somewhere to stay, specifically a place where Ellie wouldn’t even imagine where. Watching her friend desperate and begging for forgiveness, Jade felt the heart melt a little and things got back on track.

While Jade choose what she wanted to watch next (something between 17 Again and Marley & Me), Hoseok called back.

– Why did you turn off the call? - Jade inquired still tracking something good to watch on Netflix.

– Well, you want to apologize and ask for Yoongi hyung’s forgiveness, right? - Hobi said and before she could even think about replying, he continued gladly. - Well, it’s your lucky day. Guess who is the DJ friend I mentioned previously?

–You’ve got to be kidding me! - She dropped the remote control and stared blankly at one white wall. - Is it a prank? I’m sad, Hoseok. It’s not cool to play with someone’s sadness.

– Hi Jade. - A cold well known voice said on the other end. - It’s Min Yoongi, or the guy you dumped earlier.

In that moment Jade froze, not knowing what to say. When she began venting about Yoongi with Hoseok a few minutes earlier, Jade was still beginning to think about what could be said as an apology. Whilst holding her phone and trying not to cry again, the woman risked to gather some coherent words again.

– Min Yoongi. I’m surprised to hear your voice. - She pronounced and regretted immediately, aware that her words and tone sounded as if he were the guilt one. - I’m sorry, I sounded cocky and I’m actually so insecure about that call, because as you may know, or not since Hoseok is a complete scumbag, I wasn’t expecting to put together so soon a whole apology for what I did earlier. Like, I never intended to accept and dump you, I didn’t even know you earlier and I was sad, recently unemployed, a bit horny and tipsy. So yeah, Hoseok isn’t the only scumbag, I’m the whole trash can. Sorry. I’m really sorry and I drank half a box of wine and my mind is blurry, but I’m sorry for sure. Hope you can forgive me, or at least consider the idea before dumping it like I did with your soda invitation. Right now I’m a fire hazar…

– Ok, can you please let me talk? - Yoongi demanded, still sounding cold, or it could be only Jade’s insecurity, since she heard his talking voice for five minutes and couldn’t possibly know how to differ happy from bored Min Yoongi. - Hoseok may be a scumbag sometimes, and he slapped me for saying that, but yeah he is also a very cool guy, which used his friendship with me to explain your situation. See, I’m still feeling my ego ache a little, but considering everything you went through earlier, then I can forgive you, under one condition...

– That’s alright. I’ll never call Hoseok a scumbag again. - She declared and then realized Yoongi didn’t finish to say what he wanted. - It’s your condition, right? Not calling Hoseok a scumbag again.

– No, it’s not. Two conditions now, nothing related to Hoseok, though. - Yoongi’s voice sounded less irritated. - One, you have to make me a proper dinner invitation, and two, don’t interrupt me while I speak. It’s annoying.

– Oh, ok. Shall I get your phone number so the dinner details can be discussed with more compromise? - Jade asked in a flirty tone.

– Not a problem, I’ll send you my phone number through Hobi’s phone. - Yoongi stated with also a flirty voice. - Thank you for the apology. Bye, Jade.

Yoongi turned off the call and a few minutes later a message made her mobile ring. Hoseok sent a phone number. Jade took no time in saving and texting him something cool:

‘Hey bro. Sup? What will it be? McDonald’s or Burger King?’

‘It’s not proper. Or an invitation. Try again, Jade’

- x - x - x - x -

– It's dumb! - Jade said and grabbed Yoongi's fist, trying to open it. - You can't and won't put an olive inside your nose! Not under my watch.

– Come on, Jade! Hoseok once tried to put a dollar dime in there and surprisingly it fitted. An olive is easy and greased. - Yoongi chuckled, closing his fist even harder and watching the woman beginning to scratch every piece of skin exposed. - He was high, but who cares? HE INSERTED A COIN IN HIS NOSE.

– Stop yelling. - She felt her cheeks getting warm with everyone around them staring. Maybe having a “casual date” somewhere fancy wasn't a good idea. - I know Hoseok did it. When we were in high school someone doubted he could make a condom pass from his nose to his mouth. He almost choked on the latex but won a bet. You really shouldn't base on Hobi’s personal experiences to define what you can or cannot do. Mainly when it comes to inserting stuff in any body cavity.

– That phrase wasn't well planned. - Yoongi chuckled and when it clicked, Jade felt her face getting even warmer. - You convinced me of not testing my nostril flexibility. Shall we order? Or shall we pay for the breadsticks we consumed and go grab something at In ‘N’ Out?

– Honestly? I’m still unemployed and there are no job offers in sight, so In ‘N’ Out seems financially better for me. - Jade cooed staring at the menu. - The cheapest dinner course here can pay two combos in any fast food place.

Leaving the restaurant, Yoongi and Jade felt light. Mood couldn't be better, without tension or alcohol involved their conversation. It was endearing and scary. They had a great and, if I may say, cliche connection. Completing each other’s phrases and blushing whenever their looks crossed, fingers “accidentally” brushing. The woman felt like everything was a romcom, and couldn’t be more gleeful.

Before meeting and having that great date, they texted each other for two days straight, trying to relocate Yoongi’s scheduled gigs and work in a music studio (apparently, he not only composes, but also produces, sing and can rap. What a package, Ma’am). After a lot of talking, he decided to leave the studio earlier and spend a whole night beside her.

Going out with someone she actually enjoyed the company felt weird. Jade decided to focus on a successful career and comfortable life rather than romance, so after breaking up with her boyfriend no one else really appealed. A couple of one night stands, but nothing serious or swore to last.

Therefore, Yoongi appeared.

Jade was far from being in love with Min Yoongi, but would never deny that his texts were funny, and himself was a delight to speak. Somehow his sarcastic nature and cute face completed a perfect combo, and the woman could spend hours staring at how Yoongi’s cheeks seemed always filled with marshmellows, or how some words were pronounced with a pout on lips. The gummy smile, that memorable gummy smile.

…

They ordered some burgers and fries from In ‘N’ Out, deciding to eat somewhere else. Yoongi invited Jade to his place, so the dinner could happen for free on his roof, under stars and moon.

Yoongi’s appartement was small and cozy, with blueish LED lights against dark blue walls, making the room seen smaller, and a huge black leather sofa. Whilst grabbing some blankets and pillows to cover the floor, he mentioned that his favourite thing about there was actually the soundsystem and soundproof walls, which were the first two things installed when he finally got enough money.

– I was 24 and Lenny Kravitz paid for one of my compositions. - Yoongi bragged and opened the stairs door, guiding Jade up to the last floor. - Of course only Lenny’s wage didn’t pay it all alone. I saved every sight of money I could and, it’s a secret, skipped several meals, only to eat less. Now I can totally live off what I receive from the studio, but singing in pubs and bars is fun.

– Inspiring. I would never give up the opportunity of having a definitive work, even with my family, to live such a crazy dream in a whole another country. - Jade said, trying to breathe calmly after climbing four sets of stairs. - You left Korea, knowing a bit of english and basically made your life here? Without any help? Inspiring, truly inspiring.

– I won’t play humble. It was hard and lonely, until I met Jung Hoseok. We shared the rent several times. - Yoongi smiled and finally opened the rooftop door.

The rooftop wasn’t incredible. It had some plants and flowers being cultivated here and there, old and rusty benches, but in the middle of everything could be seem a small clean space.

– I guessed you wouldn’t actually want to have dinner somewhere fancy, so I paid Mr.Edwards, better known as my Landlord, to clean a small piece of the rooftop. - Yoongi murmured, hiding his cheeks and embarrassment. - Hoseok said I was crazy, that you would never accept to leave Olive Garden to eat some takeout here. According, and I quote his words, you are way too dependent of comfort and boring adult conventions to live such a childish experience.

– Can I call him scumbag? - Jade questioned feeling flustered and gaining a gummy, also flustered, smile from Yoongi.

Hoseok wasn’t completely wrong, though. Jade hated to leave the comfort of a restaurant and, of course, would never imagine herself eating junk food on a rooftop full of barely recognizable plants. She valued the stability and predictability from certain situations, mainly over scenarios where something could go deadly wrong.

What were the odds, though? She was unemployed and if ever allowed herself to have complete meals in expensive places, would run out of money shortly after. The idea of being so unstable freaked Jade out, but as the tough woman she became, admitting wasn’t even an option.

Years working and leaving night outs early, all with the finality of being a good employee. Her happy and borderline boring life depended on that job. Losing it resulted in anxiety attacks for two nights in a row and liters of tears, desperate sobs and a feeling of failure, deep down.

Jade became her work.

Focusing on Jade’s expression, Yoongi captured a feeling of emptiness. As if her happiness was only a momentum situation, not constant. Every time the woman lost herself in a sorrow brain and waves of thoughts, the beautiful eyes got opaque and sad, shortly after brushing it off and desperately trying to hide how far she actually looked. I mean, a body was definitely sitting beside Min Yoongi, but the mind would go and come back, an ocean-like motion.

– How don't you get motion sick? - Yoongi questioned, still staring at Jade. He took a bite from his burger and chewed, focusing on the city lights.

– What do you mean? - Jade answered with another question, dipping a fry on a small puddle of ketchup.

– Your mind. It seems so work like a sea. - He replied and turned to look at her. - I can see by looking into your eyes. You think about what's bragging in waves, focusing on that sorrow subject and distracting, going back and then letting go again. Waves. I'd totally feel nauseous.

– Well, I do get nauseated sometimes. Whenever the waves become tsunamis, my stomach flips. - The woman answered and took a sip from the soda.

– You are thinking about your old job aren't you? - He cocked his head to the side.

– I don't know. I don't feel comfortable about venting. - Jade couldn't look straight at Yoongi, flustered with the idea of telling him what passes through her mind. - But you seem like someone reliable. See, I always loved feeling secure and stable. The stability of having a job, a tight routine and security of earning enough to pay all my bills loosely, nothing ever felt better. My parents always had problems with money and a house, so leaving their wings and spreading my own, being able to construct a boring yet safe life became my main goal.

“I am independent by nature, safety doesn't mean having someone to stand by me, but owning a whole fucking place to warm me up during cold winters. A house, or apartment, with walls and somewhere to cook. I felt complete. Now everything is confusing. I don't know if I'll be able to pay my rent in two months. Instability is a nightmare.”

Yoongi wasn't sure about what to do. Should he hug? Tap her shoulder? Caress her back? Kiss Jade? Suck her sadness out by the tongue? Oh, it's taking a whole different turn, which he never intended in taking.

In fact, Yoongi felt a sort of attraction towards Jade. Who wouldn't feel? A great, independent, smart, attractive and funny woman, in her own way, also unique and deeply interesting. Her passion was admirable, reminded Yoongi of himself.

When they first met, at the bar, Yoongi thought she was beautiful, even a bit punchy, and honestly wanted to pay her something to drink (even considering the idea of buying stuff in trade of physical contact was narrow, edging old-minded). He felt offended when Jade left, literally running away.

He felt surprised when Hoseok appeared with his phone in hands and babbling about a friend, specifically a girl who dumped him in a bar and was now regretting it. At first Yoongi wanted to ignore Jade, but her day seemed to end pretty shitty. Why not to give another shot?

Gladly he did.

– I'm afraid of compromise. - Yoongi murmured, trying to make Jade listen, but not wanting it at the same time.

– Well, it's not something bad. - Jade slide her hand closer to his on the blanket, slightly touching pinkies. - I don't have problems with compromise, as long as they don't disturb my routine.

– You don't get it. I like going out with people, but engaging in a romantic relationship frightens me up. - He still murmured, but now a little louder. - Making a relationship work isn't a piece of cake. Not for me. I understand when you say your priority is working and becoming stable. I think exactly the same. Ugh, it's so lonely to live like I do, but producing songs have always been my dream...

Jade got courage and ran her fingers along Yoongi’s, intertwining them. Both blushed and grinned. Slowly, and unsure, the man turned around and bent a little, brushing his soft lips against Jade's cheek. She made the same movements, but intentionally kissing him. A small and shy peck.

Like magic working through their veins, Yoongi rested his hand on Jade's cheek, deepening the kiss. In a slow pace, they putted the food away and laid down, trading smooches and pecks, with no intention of going further. His body on top of hers, under moonlight and stars.

They stayed there, in a comfortable silence for a long time. Watching the moon and trying to forget problems and outside world.

- x - x - x - x -

Three months later, Yoongi and Jade were still seeing each other quite often. Suiting his frighten of compromise, they never meant to label what kind of bond were shared.

Yoongi helped Jade to improve her resume, with some editing and a bit more of detail, no one could possibly deny a job. One month after their “unofficial date”, she was hired by a newspaper as a receptionist and occasional movie critic (She sent her opinion and whenever it sounded coherent, they published and paid an extra).

Her obsession with stability and security remained, but now sharing worries and struggles with someone special.

Hoseok proudly took credit for reuniting them after the bar fiasco. Shims disagreed saying their akai-ito tied in the moment she and Jade entered that bar and coincidentally where Yoongi was singing.

The Chaos Club decided to reunite somewhere fun (or the bar Yoongi and Jade first met), have a few drinks and talk about life, listen to some new stories from Hoseok, and turn Yoongi officially a new member of their pack.

Taylor held hands right with Jungkook, Robin and Jimin were indeed together, Emerson and Namjoon kept their title as Unproblematic Couple, Zariah and Bang Chan had bickerings but remained as a couple, Jin and Di were still engaged, but now planning their wedding party and preparing to invite their best men and maid of honour. Bárbara was glad, almost morphing into Lisa through a hug. Shims and Taehyung were throwing bread crumbs on each other, but occasionally stopping to say something sweet, teasing and starting all over again. Hoseok was surprisingly quiet, whispering things on Taemin’s ear.

The loud speaking and confusion stopped when Jade and Yoongi appeared, getting in the bar holding hands and laughing at something she said. His work finished an hour earlier, but he showed at her job and made company until she could leave as well.

In the moment the couple settled down and ordered some drinks, Hoseok showed up with a closed umbrella.

– Can I start the acceptance ceremony? We have to celebrate their unlabeled relationship! - Jung Hoseok pronounced and stared at his friends, and boyfriend (already accepted as a Chaos Club member), Taemin.

– Just go, Jung. - Yoongi said, rolling his eyes.

– You cannot tell me what or not to do, yet, Min. - Hoseok mocked and raising an eyebrow in fake disapproval.

– Then I can. Just go, Jung. - Jade told harshly, but smiled innocently right after.

– Now that an official Chaos Club said it, I can start. - He cleared his throat and began talking. - Today, my fellows and lover, we are willing and ready to accept a new member to our family, our club, our escape of human average intelligence and cheap humour, The Chaos Club. Here we have Min Yoongi, Jade's partner in crime, and a friend of mine. Do anyone have any problems or anything to add? Is anyone against his addition to our deary club of friends? - Not a single word, everybody just smiled at how theatrical Hoseok seemed holding the umbrella like a sword. - Since not a soul disagreed with my words, I proclaim Min Yoongi as a member from The Chaos Club. - He touched both Yoongi’s shoulders with the umbrella. - Now everybody drink a shot of tequila in honour of this historical moment. Cheers!

Everybody took in one sip the previously poured tequila. Jade and Yoongi smiled widely and kissed, getting their crowd to applause their action.

Jade and Yoongi were now officially together.

- x - x - x - x -

P:S I love you x

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