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#crying in front of a casting director because he was asking me to change things. would have looked real good
back-and-totheleft · 1 year
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30th anniversary of 'Heaven & Earth' 
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30 years ago, we were in Thailand making Oliver Stone's most poetic film. And I recently reunited with my movie family for a rescreening of "Heaven & Earth," part of his Vietnam War trilogy.
Thuan Le Elston   | USA TODAY
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Oliver Stone's holding an open casting call for his third Vietnam War movie, this time from the perspective of the Vietnamese people.
I was a young reporter at the Los Angeles Times' Orange County bureau in the early 1990s, and part of my job was to monitor the Vietnamese-language press in Little Saigon, a major cultural and commercial community of refugees spread out over several cities. And one day, Oliver's announcement was on the front page of Nguoi Viet daily newspaper.
The article said the Academy Award-winning director and screenwriter of "Platoon," "Wall Street" and "Born on the Fourth of July" had already held open auditions in Asia and Europe and in other American cities, but the final casting call would be in Little Saigon. I knew I'd cover it for The Times, but the biggest question on my mind was: Did Oliver Stone already have a screenplay for this first ever Hollywood movie from the Vietnamese perspective? Because I wanted to help him write it.
Spoiler alert: I didn't help Oliver write "Heaven & Earth." But along with many other Vietnamese non-actors, I was cast for the movie. I had 15 minutes' worth of speaking scenes throughout the film, sharing lines with Debbie Reynolds and Tommy Lee Jones – and Joan Chen and Haing Ngor, who played my parents. I was Kim, a sister to the main character in this major motion picture that not only educated me about my past but also gained me a movie family for my future. 
30th anniversary of 'Heaven & Earth' 
It was three decades ago that we were all in Thailand making Oliver's most poetic film, one with the heart of a Buddhist feminist. (Communist Vietnam was still closed back then and objected to many things in the script.) And Sunday, we reunited in Los Angeles for a rescreening of "Heaven & Earth," which premiered on Christmas Day in 1993.
Oliver based his movie on "When Heaven and Earth Changed Places" and "Child of War, Woman of Peace" – the memoirs of Le Ly Hayslip. Le Ly was a child of Central Vietnam who, because her village was caught between communist North Vietnam and the Washington-backed South Vietnam, became a teenage Viet Cong guerilla, a reformed entrepreneur and then an immigrant to America.
Her journey is not for the faint of heart: She suffered rape by fellow VC guerillas, torture in a South Vietnamese military prison and then the suicide of her U.S. military veteran husband in Southern California.
Now a grandmother living in San Diego, Le Ly remains one of the strongest and most determined women I know. With no formal education, she has published two memoirs that were made into a Hollywood movie and founded the nonprofit Global Village Foundation. In fact, right before our movie reunion in L.A., she was back in Central Vietnam bringing aid and supplies to flood victims.        
So no, Oliver didn't need me to help write anything; he had Le Ly. But in Little Saigon in December 1991, I covered the open casting call and brought along my best friend, a budding model and actor. 
Mass therapy session on Vietnam War
The event drew thousands to a huge hall, where they started lining up outside at 7 a.m. Inside, mini film crews had set up cameras to screen test the Vietnamese Americans. No script was handed out. Instead, the war refugees were asked to improvise from their own experiences: You're a mother who has to send your son to war. You're a father trying to protect your daughter. Your family is divided over Ho Chi Minh. 
It turned out to be a massive therapy session for 12 hours. It's as if these Vietnamese Americans, so used to trying to bury the past to have a future, were all at once given permission to relive their nightmares, pains and secrets. Everyone just wanted to tell their stories. And cry. Everyone cried. The crews doing the screen tests sobbed behind cameras and had to take breaks between auditions.
So many people were waiting in line, the casting directors asked my childhood friend Tran Tran and I to help audition our fellow refugees. I played a daughter, a mother, a sister to anyone who needed me. I didn't have any nightmares to relive: I was only 8 when my family escaped the fall of Saigon in 1975; the pains and secrets belonged to my parents. But those survivors auditioning for the movie were so real, their memories so alive, it was easy to help improvise their scenes. 
At the end of that emotionally exhausting day, Tran got her screen test for the main role, Le Ly. I played the bitter older sister who threw her out of my house. 
One thing we learned later was that Warner Bros. didn't want to make a film with subtitles, which three decades ago was still a big no for American audiences. The actors Oliver chose had to be able to be understood in English. Tran and I, both born in Vietnam but grew up in Phoenix, were confident of our American sides.
Surprise: The casting directors called me back but not my friend, who, yes, remains my friend (and in fact came with me to the movie reunion last weekend, as you'll see in clicking through the photo gallery below). 
Oscar winner for screenwriting
At one of my audition callbacks, I was finally given Oliver's screenplay – and was blown away by what a lyrical writer he is and understood why he won an Oscar for writing "Midnight Express." 
Reading "Heaven & Earth" made me cry. At a time when Asians in general, let alone Vietnamese Americans, almost never saw our true selves represented on the Hollywood screen, Oliver was amplifying the story of a small village girl who should have remained invisible to history. But Le Ly refused to stay invisible, and Oliver recognized that kindred spirit.  
In the summer of 1992, the call finally came: My last audition was my first meeting with Oliver at his office, where he had me read lines with him for Kim, one of Le Ly's older sisters who grew from rice farmer to bar girl to San Diego housewife.
Whatever I did worked. Oliver smiled and told me I got the part: "You're my Kim."
We hugged, shook hands, maybe – I was so excited I really don't remember what happened after hearing those words. 
By early October, I was on a jet to Thailand, where I worked on the movie until Christmas break.  
Reliving terror of war, bonding as movie family
As I later wrote for The Times in an essay headlined "Scenes From Another Lifetime":  
On leave from The Times, I spent 2 1/2 months in Thailand, where not only did I and the other non-actors in the movie learn acting on the job, but I also saw close up the realities of a conflict I never knew personally. In character, we stood knee deep in the mud of rice paddies and cowered while American helicopters barking bullets interrupted our work; ran to a neighbor’s house to witness his killing by the Viet Cong; and argued with each other about how to deal with the violence. ...  All of this played havoc on my psyche. Day and night, I moved between the past and the present, war and peace, old enemies and new friends. No longer could I separate myself from the people and events I had known only intellectually.
As strangers who met only because we're supposed to portray a family on screen, you can't go through long, harrowing days on set without bonding. And we filmed in rural southwestern Thailand  – Phang Nga, a 90-minute drive outside the touristy Phuket Island. Every night, the cast shared trauma and entertained each other over family meals. On the rare days we had off together, we played tourists. 
A vivid memory for me is an afternoon by the hotel pool: Our movie father Haing Ngor, who had won a best supporting actor Oscar for "The Killing Fields" in 1985, also had written a memoir about his escape from the communist Khmer Rouge, who forced the gynecologist and obstetrician underground, where he worked as a doctor at the risk of his own life. As he and other cast members chatted and relaxed, I read "Haing Ngor: A Cambodian Odyssey" and asked, "How are you still alive?" 
We learned from one another yet also got bored together. Our movie mother Joan Chen, star of "The Last Emperor" and "Twin Peaks" and now a director herself, admitted once to being scared of ghosts. As easygoing as Joan was, I'm not sure she ever forgave my prank of making spirit noises outside her door with my movie brother Dustin Nguyen, who had starred in "21 Jump Street" and who now acts in and directs episodes of "Warrior."
Reunion of 'Heaven & Earth' family
Last weekend was about the fifth time the "Heaven & Earth" family reunited after three decades. Tragically, our reunions have drawn fewer of us over time because of distance and death:
Haing survived Cambodia's Khmer Rouge only to die in a senseless shooting outside his Los Angeles home in 1996.
Costume designer Ha Nguyen, nominated for an Oscar for "The Mask," died of cancer in 2012. 
Hiep Le, our leading actress who starred as Le Ly, passed away in 2017 from complications of stomach cancer. 
Watching "Heaven & Earth" again on the big screen Sunday in Los Angeles with both my Hollywood family and my real family, I remembered how generous my movie idols were in their interactions with us non-actors: Tommy Lee Jones, playing my movie sister's husband, made sure I was comfortable in our one-on-one scene. Debbie Reynolds shared her insecurities over her Hollywood career. 
But watching scenes with my movie father Haing Ngor and my movie baby sister Hiep Le, I had to close my eyes. It hurt too much. I missed them so much. No amount of wishing could bring them back. 
What comforted me and stuck with me still is how our movie family feels like a real family after all these years. We've suffered together. We've survived together. We've partied together. 
And just like in the beginning, Le Ly and Oliver have been there at each reunion. They're both our heaven and earth. 
-Thuan Le Elston, "'You're my Kim': How I landed a Hollywood movie and a scene with Tommy Lee Jones," USA Today, Nov 18 2022 [x]
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ahundredtimesover · 3 years
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Hold Me Close | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)
Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut
Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)
Word count: 22k
Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.
A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 
##
Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 
You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 
Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.
The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 
He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 
“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.
Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 
Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 
“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.
“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.
“Jungkook?”
“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”
Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 
“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.
“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“
“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.
“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.
You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.
“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.
“Jimin. Times two.”
“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 
Jungkook laughs in agreement. 
“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”
“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”
“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.
You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?
“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.
**
You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.
You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”
Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 
You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”
He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 
He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.
You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 
“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 
You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.
You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 
She checks the clipboard then on Jimin. 
“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 
After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”
“So I’m not staying?” He asks.
“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 
“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”
You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.
“But, something else feels broken.”
“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.
“My heart.”
“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.
The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.
Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 
“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 
While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 
The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 
Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.
“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.
“Your roommate?”
“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”
“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.
“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.
“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 
Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.
“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.
“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 
“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.
“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”
“I’m not that bad,” he defends.
“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”
“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.
**
You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 
Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 
“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”
Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.
“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.
“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”
“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.
You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  
“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 
“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”
“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”
“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 
But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him. 
“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.
“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”
“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” 
“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”
You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”
“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 
A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 
There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though. 
There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.
When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 
And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 
Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 
You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 
He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.
Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.
“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”
Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. 
“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”
This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.
“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”
It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 
Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm. 
Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 
Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 
He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 
Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 
But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt. 
If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
**
The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 
With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.
It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes. 
You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”
You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”
Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.
“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.
“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.
You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 
“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”
“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 
“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”
“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 
“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”
Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 
Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 
“Thanks, ___. You—”
“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.
“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.
You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.
“Everything okay, ___?” 
You heave out a sigh.
“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 
Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 
You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 
Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 
Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 
Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 
You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.
“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”
True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”
You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 
Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”
“Goes both ways, I guess.”
“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”
**
Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 
Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.
In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.
It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers. 
Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.
Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 
This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 
Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 
He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.
It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 
“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”
“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so. 
“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 
“And you let him?”
At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.
“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.
You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 
“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”
Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 
You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 
Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.
You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 
“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”
He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.
He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 
“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 
He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 
You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 
“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.
“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.
“So you just switched to apple juice?”
“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”
“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.
“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 
“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”
“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”
“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”
“His choices were always so boring!”
“Or that time when…”  You throw him another pillow. 
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”
“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 
“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 
He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted. 
“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”
“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.
“I drank, remember?”
“Not much though.”
He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”
You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 
“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”
“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 
You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 
“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 
You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.
“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”
Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.
“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”
And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 
You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.
“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.
“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”
You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.
“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”
“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.
“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 
It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 
“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”
You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.
He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.
**
Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life. 
At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 
He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.
Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 
It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 
On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.
It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.
“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 
“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”
“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”
“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”
You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 
“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.
“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.
“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”
“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.
Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”
“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.
“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.
“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.
“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?
He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.
“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.
But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?
“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 
Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 
You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.
He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 
Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 
He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 
You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 
The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.
**
The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.
It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”
It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future. 
You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 
“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”
Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 
Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 
You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 
“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”
“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 
“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks. 
“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”
“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.
“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 
He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 
He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 
There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.
Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 
The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 
Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 
“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 
You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 
“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 
“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”
This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”
He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 
And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 
“I - I actually don’t know.”
**
Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.
Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 
Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.
Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.
**
It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.
Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 
It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 
Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.
The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 
Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 
For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 
You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 
He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 
“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.
You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 
“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 
You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 
“Unfortunately,” you sigh.
“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit. 
“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”
He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 
“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.
His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.
“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 
“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”
**
You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 
You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.
He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.
“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”
Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 
“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.
“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.
“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.
“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 
He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.
“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”
“You’ll be okay?” 
“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”
He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 
He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 
Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 
**
Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 
Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.
You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.
“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 
You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.
“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 
You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”
“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 
He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.
“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”
**
You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 
But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 
You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 
“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.
“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.
He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.
You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.
“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.
“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”
“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”
You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 
“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.
“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.” 
He nods again.
“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 
Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.
“And?” He asks.
“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”
“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”
“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.
This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 
“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.
“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.
“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain. 
“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”
“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.
“Flirt with him?”
Jungkook nods.
“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”
“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.
“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”
Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”
You let this sink in.
“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.
“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.
You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.
You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.
The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.
“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 
He raises an eyebrow.
“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 
He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 
“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.
You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 
“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.” 
Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.
“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”
“That was embarrassing.”
“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”
“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him. 
“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”
You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?
“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“
“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”
You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“ 
“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.
This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.
“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.
You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.
You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.
Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up. 
All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 
You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 
“You okay?” He asks worriedly.
“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 
“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 
“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 
“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him? 
You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 
You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 
Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
“For what?”
“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 
“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.
He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod. 
“Sleep well, ___.”
**
You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 
The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 
Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.
He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 
**
You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 
You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.
“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts. 
It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.
“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.
He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.
Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.
“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 
Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 
“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”
“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.
For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.
You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 
Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”
You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”
“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.
Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,��� you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 
You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.
There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 
This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 
He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.
You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 
He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 
You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.
You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.
After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 
Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 
It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.
His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his…
“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 
Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 
His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 
“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 
“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”
He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt. 
He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.
You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.
“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.
He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time. 
You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 
They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.
You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 
You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.
“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 
He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.
**
Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 
“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.
Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected. 
“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”
Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.
Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door. 
**
It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing. 
He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say. 
Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 
You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?
On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 
The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?
With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.
You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.
Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.
He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.
“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 
“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 
You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.
“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.
Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.
“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”
His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.
“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 
“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 
Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.
This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 
You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.
The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.
“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.
Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.
“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”
Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.
He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.
“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”
“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 
**
Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school. 
His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.
Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 
You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.
You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 
The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.
His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 
You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 
You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.
“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 
“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”
Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 
“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.
This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.
He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 
It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.
**
You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.
Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 
He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 
Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 
Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.
Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 
Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?
**
It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.
“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.
“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 
“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.
Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.
“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows. 
“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?” 
You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 
“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”
“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.
“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 
“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.
“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.
“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”
“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.
Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”
“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away. 
“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.
“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Like me?”
“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. 
“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.
“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.
“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”
It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.
**
A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room. 
Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.
It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.
You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.
He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.
“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 
“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. 
“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 
You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 
“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.
He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.
“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“
“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.
“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.
“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 
And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.
“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.
“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”
“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”
And you hate that he’s right.
“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”
By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.
You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 
“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“
Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.
“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 
“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“
His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this. 
“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 
“And I avoided you because—“ 
You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.
“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“ 
He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 
“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 
At this, he stops. 
He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 
“How exactly do you want me?”
You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.
You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 
Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this. 
“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”
Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.
“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”
Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.
Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.
It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 
Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.
His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.
Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 
He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 
Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.
You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 
Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 
You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine. 
And then.
“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.
Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 
You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.
“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”
You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.
“WHAT?” You ask.
“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”
Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.
“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”
“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.
“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”
God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.
“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.
“No.”
“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.
“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.
Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.
“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 
“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.
And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 
Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.
“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.
“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 
“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 
He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”
By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.
And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.
And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 
“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 
“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”
And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.
Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.
“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 
“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”
Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”
“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”
**
You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.
He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.
His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 
You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.
“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.
“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”
“What the fuck Jungkook!”
“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 
You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.
At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.
“Is everything okay?” You ask.
“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”
“Jungkook,” you stop him. 
“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”
“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 
You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”
“Okay.”
And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.
“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.
Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.
You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation. 
All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.
At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 
“My turn,” he says smugly.
You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.
“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good. 
He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.
“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”
“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 
He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 
You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.
“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 
He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 
You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.
But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 
“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.
He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.
He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.
He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.
“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.
**
You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 
You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.
“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 
“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 
Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”
His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 
He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.
“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.
“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 
Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”
You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.
“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”
“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.
“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”
“But…” You start.
“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”
And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there. 
The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.
“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.
**
You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.
“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”
Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.
“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”
“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 
Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.
You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 
You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 
“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 
Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 
“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”
##
masterlist
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heyyyharry · 3 years
Text
Drivers License
(inspired by drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo)
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Word count: 2.5k
And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about
This song is so sad and it made me cry so I had to write something about it 🤧
.
.
.
“I love the song.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “But?” she asked her producer, who was on the phone. “You don’t sound like you love it.”
“Of course I love it, Y/N. It’s just–” Came a pause. “Do you really want this to be the next single?”
“What do you mean? You love it but it’s not good enough to be a single?”
“It’s too good, Y/N,” her producer said. “It’s very...personal.”
“That’s why I want to put it out, Gray. It means a lot to me.”
Gray was quiet for another moment. “The media and his fans are going to come for you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Alright. I’ll call you back.” Gray sounded defeated but she could still sense a smile as he told her, “Good job, kid,” before hanging up.
Y/N put her phone away, tossed her head back and heaved a sigh. She was well aware of the trouble she’d cause by releasing this song. It’d be like showing the whole world her diary. She’d written plenty of songs on her previous albums about her relationships, too. There had been witch hunts simply because the men she’d written songs about had fans who worshipped them and refused to see them as anything less than perfect. She wasn’t perfect, either. If she were perfect, she wouldn’t have written a song about an ‘almost’ relationship. She’d know her worth and not have chased someone who didn’t and would never want her. She knew that now. So this song would be the last thing she’d give this person. The last goodbye that she never got to say.
.
.
.
“What are you smiling at?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me see,” Y/N giggled and tried to grab his phone as he pretended to fight her off.
“Alright, alright.” He laughed, reached out to turn the music in his car down and handed her the phone. “It’s the memes your fans made about you not being able to drive,” he said, suppressing a grin.
Her jaw dropped. “I hate you!”
“I’m sorry. It slipped out,” he said, laughing again. She could listen to his laugh on replay. She loved his music, but his laugh had to be her most favourite melody. “To be fair, you talked a lot of shit about me in that interview, too.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” she scoffed at the smug look he was wearing. “At least I didn’t tell the whole world about your imaginary friend that you had until you were thirteen. You spilt my secret.”
“Not a secret anymore.”
She playfully smacked him on the arm. “My lawyer will hear about this.”
He pouted, pretending to be upset. “Guess we’ll never work together anymore.”
“Acting is not for me anyway.”
Y/N gave Harry back his phone. He took it but didn’t break eye contact as his brows knitted. “Stop saying that. You were great in the movie.”
She rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Oh please, have you been on the internet?”
“You mean my fans’ reactions, right? Just ignore them.” He breathed. “I mean, I love my fans, but they could be too much sometimes. Just look at all my previous relationships. I can’t even breathe around a female without them sending her death threats.”
“Yeah,” Y/N let out a nervous laugh, hands folded together resting on her knees. “Speaking of relationships,” she ventured, “are you talking to someone new?”
She wasn’t looking at him yet she could feel the heat from his gaze as he told her, “No. I already told you, Y/N. Right now there’s just you.”
Harry turned, putting both hands on his steering wheel. Was he nervous as well? Had she ruined the moment by bringing this up?
He took a deep breath, confirming her assumption. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just not ready for a relationship.”
It was the same line he’d told her times and times again, and she wished she could just tell him how much she loathed it. And since she couldn’t say anything, she just nodded and focused on the rings on her fingers.
“I do care a lot about you, though,” he added, his voice heavy with emotions.
Her friends had told her that men would say things like this, and most of the time they barely meant half of it. However, she’d known Harry for years. Their relationship had only changed since they’d been cast for the same movie earlier this year. She was confident that she knew him better than her friends or anyone else. Surely, he’d meant all the things he’d said to her. The problem was, he just wasn’t ready for a relationship.
“And I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” he said, now looking at her again.
She turned slowly and met his thoughtful green eyes. She offered a single smile as a way to tell him she wasn’t upset, even though she was, a little bit. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” she admitted.
His dimples reappeared. “I feel like it’s rare for people like us to find a connection like this, and I’ve never opened up to anyone the way I have to you. But I think now isn’t the time for us to take the risk of ruining this. Right now we’re still trying to figure out our own lives, you know?”
She nodded again, not knowing what to say.
They sat quietly for another moment, and it was he who broke the silence. “How come you never learn to drive?”
She could feel her cheeks glowing red. “I never had to drive myself.”
She’d been famous since she was fourteen, so she’d always had people driving her places. Whenever she told anyone that reason, they’d either call her spoiled to her face or give her a judgemental look that made her feel self-conscious. She didn’t have a dad or siblings, her mum didn’t know how to drive, either, and she was too afraid to ask anyone to teach her for she feared they’d judged her.
“I could teach you.”
Y/N whipped her head up and blinked blankly at him. “Really?”
“Of course,” he chuckled. “I have a cousin who didn’t learn to drive when he was young because of his anxiety and I taught him. I could teach you.”
Trying to hide her excitement, Y/N smiled. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” His grin widened even though he was the one doing her a favour. It was moments like this that reassured her that he wasn’t like the other guys who’d broken her heart. “When you got your driver license,” he said, “you can drive up to my house on your own.”
“We can even go on road trips,” she said happily, already imagining the many scenarios in her head.
He seemed equally elated, which made her heart swell. “Yeah! Wanna do it now or–”
“Let’s do it now.”
“Yeah, okay.” Quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. She climbed into the driver seat and watched him settle into the passenger side. That afternoon was the first time she’d learned how to drive. She would always remember that.
.
.
“Y/N, you’re up next,” said one member of the backstage staff who handed Y/N her mic and ran off to check on the backing vocalist.
Y/N felt her heart thumping in her chest as she clutched the microphone to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. She looked to her right, peering at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked beautiful. The makeup team and her stylist had spent three hours on this look and made sure that she was flawless.
Would he be watching the show tonight?
Had he even listened to the song?
It got to number one on the iTunes chart today. He must have listened to it. If not, he must have heard it on the radio or someone must have sent it to him. The whole world knew the song was for him, and everyone was talking about it. So even though he didn’t care anymore, even though he was happy with his new girlfriend, he must be wondering. Because when she’d heard that he’d written a song about her, she’d been so excited to listen to it. So could it be that he was wondering as well?
“This is Y/N performing her latest single DRIVERS LICENSE!”
Y/N took a deep breath as she got a nod from the stage director. She stepped out, soaked in the stage lights while the audience applauded and cheered for her. She stood at the centre of the stage as the band started playing and the noise in the audience died down. As a habit, she searched the front rows for his face despite knowing with every fibre in her body that this would be the last place he’d be tonight.
I got my driver's license last week
Just like we always talked about
'Cause you were so excited for me
To finally drive up to your house
But today I drove through the suburbs
Crying 'cause you weren't around
She could see it even now. Them driving through the quiet night. From her house to his and back. Just the two of them. The kisses they’d share at stoplights when there was no one else around. The way he’d place his hand on her thigh just because he wanted to. In retrospect, she should have realised that he wouldn’t ever do that to her in public. Their relationship, if she could call it that, had been almost nonexistent. Maybe that was why it’d been so easy for him to move on. You couldn’t feel remorse leaving behind something that didn’t exist. How unfortunate. It’d been real to her.
And you're probably with that blonde girl
Who always made me doubt
She's so much older than me
She's everything I'm insecure about
Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs
'Cause how could I ever love someone else?
She’d thought to herself that if he could write a song about someone he’d never dated, it was worth staying with him despite not actually being with him. She could not expect that a few months after that song had come out, he would be seen driving around with another girl. The girl he’d told her was only a good friend. This girl was older and perfect in every way. Y/N wouldn’t choose herself either if the choices were between her and that girl. But she couldn’t bring herself to hate the girl. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Harry had chosen her. And it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Y/N refused to see the red flags through her rose-coloured glasses.
And I know we weren't perfect
But I've never felt this way for no one
And I just can't imagine
How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?
Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me
'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street
Y/N wrote this song a week after she’d got her drivers license. She’d blast sad music in her car and cried as she drove past his house, wondering if he was still up and thinking of her whenever he saw headlights passing his street. The heartbreak had been confusing to her as they weren’t even together. It was funny how the whole world had believed in them, except for him. He’d told her he loved her, so why weren’t they together now? He’d said he wasn’t ready, so why was he holding hands with someone else on the street? Was it because of her? Was it something that she’d done? Was there something wrong with her? Why couldn’t he choose her? Y/N had pondered over those questions for months until she came to accept that there didn’t have to be a reason for someone to leave you. They simply lost feelings or found someone else. No one owed you an explanation.
Red lights, stop signs
I still see your face in the white cars, front yards
Can't drive past the places we used to go to
'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe
For months, he'd been a ghost living rent-free in her head. She saw him in every face and every crowd, and she could even, in this moment, hear the sound of his laugh somewhere in the audience. She could hear him telling her he was proud of her, that everything would be okay. And the worst part was that, without her, he was still doing fine. He wouldn’t see her everywhere he went. He wouldn’t think about her when he was lying in bed and couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t wonder if she missed him. Because he didn’t miss her. And he would be saying the same things he’d said to her to his new girl.
Sidewalks we crossed
I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing
Over all the noise
God, I'm so blue, know we're through
But I still fuckin' love you, babe (Ooh, ooh)
There on the stage, she received sympathetic looks from the people in the front row as she cried her heart out to the lyrics. He might be at home this moment, watching the show with his new girlfriend, and seeing her cry on live television. Would they laugh at her together? Would he turn to his girlfriend and say he was sorry for how he’d treated Y/N and promised to never hurt his girlfriend the same way? The most heartbreaking thing, Y/N thought, wasn’t him leaving, but seeing him treat someone the way she’d wanted to be treated and realising that he’d been capable of doing it all this time, just not with her.
I know we weren't perfect
But I've never felt this way for no one
And I just can't imagine
How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?
Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me
'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street
Putting all her feelings into this song had made everything seem so much simpler and clearer. And at the end of the day, Y/N believed that the whole purpose of songwriting was to get closure. Perhaps, one day, when she listened to this song again, she wouldn’t be sad anymore.
Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street
.
.
.
“Good job, Y/N.”
“Thank you.”
“Love the song! You’re amazing.”
“Thank you.”
Y/N faked a few more smiles then shut the door of her dressing room and slumped into her chair in front of the vanity.
All alone, she looked right at her reflection and took a deep breath.
Her phone buzzed and lit up with a new text message.
Harry: Congratulations on your no 1 :) xx
She pondered over the words, picked up her phone, and deleted his contact.
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cuuno-moved · 3 years
Text
dream smp characters as memories i have except they’re weirdly specific and say more about me than any biographical film could.
tommy- a birthday party some kid threw in elementary school, where they gave an invitation to every kid in their class, and their parents rented a bouncy castle that smelled like burnt rubber and everyone brought cheap presents that were very obviously the first thing you saw when you walked into walmart, but the birthday kid was still ecstatic about each one.
tubbo- a sleepover in middle school. you chase your friends around the house in your socks, and one of the other kids goes missing for nearly ten minutes, and you find him crying because he got stuck in the dryer somehow, and you don’t want to wake up his parents because you’ll get in trouble, so you guys have to get him out on your own.
wilbur- you’re crying about being stood up, but your friends keep cracking jokes and laughing, and you feel equal parts offended that they’re not as upset as you are, and trying to hold back a laugh, because that was actually pretty funny. you have something stuck in your teeth, and that’s what makes you laugh in the end.
dream- there’s a possum in your yard. you name it half-mast. two weeks later, your sister says there’s a dead possum in the backyard. you cry. the next day, half-mast breaks into your basement to sit on your lap. this is no possum, you decide. you just met god.
george- valentine’s day in middle school. your school is doing candy grams, and somehow, your boyfriend bought nineteen for you. for a seventh grader, that’s the equivalent of a romantic date on a beach. you don’t actually eat them, because you hate chocolate, but also because it’s fun to casually carry them around and flex on the other girls. 
sapnap- one of the band members burnt down the drum shed. no one knows who. it was probably arson jake. it was definitely arson jake, actually. he shrugs when asked.
fundy- the first day of ninth grade. you walked in, and sat down, and suddenly this girl is talking to you. she likes james bond, and horror movies, and grandson. you nod politely, explain you like homestuck, and romcoms, and the front bottoms. she tells you later that you look very intimidating. you think she looked a bit like an avacodo.
eret- you have listened to the same song for nearly four hours straight. something about breakups? or something? you can’t change it, you have to look dignified. you’re at a wedding. your knockoff air pods dig into your ears. you try very hard not to laugh as the bride’s six year old son trips and falls.
niki- your best friend in third grade is holding a birthday party, and you showed up too early. you help her set up, crack jokes, watch her laugh. she’s really pretty and you wonder what it would be like to kiss her. her big sister keeps giving you looks, but you aren’t sure why. 
quackity- one of the clarinets had gotten a miniature microphone stuck in his instrument. the band director is talking to the color guard, but if he came over, the kid’s screwed. one of the sousaphones- probably big davey- is trying to help, but it’s really jammed in there. the kid starts crying.
techno- your english teacher in seventh grade has completely filled her room with edgar allan poe decorations. paintings of ravens cover every surface, ominous lighting casts shadows in the corners. she wears a black lace veil, like she’s mourning. one of the boys cracks a joke about it, and she levels a glare at him. ‘that’ll be enough from the peanut section.’
ranboo- you are wearing your marching band uniform, and you look like a penguin. lunchbox owen says you remind him of some anime character. anime aramus agrees. gay nico gives him a weird look. it’s probably from a hentai, you reason. you don’t want details. that night, you look it up. it’s definitely from a hentai.
bad- someone at sunday school has replaced all the pencils in your backpack with plastic straws. you figure out who did it and march up to him. ‘that wasn’t very jesus loves you of you,’ you say with so much confidence he almost looks scared. his aunt makes him apologize for being mean.
skeppy- one of the boys at your lunch table just dumped an entire thing of cheetos in his applesauce. it’s entirely quiet, except for him. he’s singing the song from ratatouie. your table is staring. the surrounding tables are staring. he eats it.
charlie- one of the boys in your gym class is wearing booty shorts and a crop top. one of the other boys call him gay and he points to your basketball shorts and sweatshirt. ‘i’m not anywhere as gay as andrew’. your name isn’t andrew. he’s gay.
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solarwonux · 3 years
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8. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”
25.  “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see.” “So?”
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marketing director!mingyu x f!reader
w.c: 2.6k
warnings: a little bitt of angst, a little bit of fluff, suggestive themes like voyeurism briefly mentioned
note: ngl, I’m sorry not my best work but I TRIED. Let me know your thoughts it would really help me out a lot. Thank you for reading.xx
masterlist || prompt list
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Kim Mingyu - Marketing Director
The nameplate on the door sends a shiver up your spine, knowing that the man you had accidentally pulled in for a drunk kiss the night before during the weekly company bonding dinner, was sitting just behind the door. He was pissed, had pushed you away, made a big deal in wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust. Causing you to sober up quickly and regretting it.
It’s no secret that God had taken his sweet time when creating Kim Mingyu Marketing Director of GoSe Enterprises. He put all the Greek Gods you spent your free time reading about to shame. You’ve been crushing on him since he sat in the cubicle next to yours for years. The two of you had developed a nice easy-going friendship. He was sweet, funny, and always offered amazing advice, both on personal and professional matters. You were practically head over heals for him.
Then the promotion came, granting Mingyu with an office on the southside of the company building. Huge windows overlooking the city below, and the office. A nice fancy gold nameplate with his new job description underneath it. Naturally, the two of you grew apart, ripped from one another without a warning. He was no longer rooting for you and your ideas. Instead, he was the one turning down all your project proposals. He was the one assigning you the revision tasks he knew you hated doing. He was the reason for the random spikes of anxiety throughout the workday. He was no longer your friend, he was your supervisor. His soft demeanor and fleeting touches were nowhere to be found. Lost amongst piles of paperwork surrounding his desk. 
You took a deep breath holding your laptop close against your chest, eyeing the nameplate on the large dark wooden door that took your Mingyu away from you a year ago. You were nervous. He only ever called you down to his office if you had a proposal revision due, which this time you didn’t. 
The last idea you had pitched two weeks ago was turned down before you could finish your sentence during your first PowerPoint slide. He didn’t even give you the chance to improve it, simply said, “trash it, it’s not worth wasting your time when it’s not a plausible option.” So, the only other option left and the one that made sense was your slip-up the night before. He had called you down to ask for your resignation letter for breaking company policy. 
“If you keep staring at the door it won’t magically open,” Chan spoke next to you making you jump. “I’m just saying.” He shrugged sheepishly and opened the door, walking in with confidence. “Mingyu I have the copies you asked for.” 
You filed in after him, situating yourself close to the wall and by the door, while Mingyu instructed Chan on where to set down the copies. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, watching as the two of them laughed about some inside joke they had. The anger along with jealousy boiled with fever deep within you. 
This was the problem. Mingyu had only changed when it came to you. With everyone else he was the same Mingyu you once had the pleasure of knowing, and that not only confused you but it made you angry. “Are we still on for guys' night this friday?” Chan asked the older male pointing finger guns at him. 
“Yes, of course, drinks are on Seungcheol this time, which makes my wallet really happy.” Mingyu clapped Chan on the back and led him towards his office door. “Same bar with the cute bartender?” He emphasized, his angry gaze falling on you for a second. 
Subtle you silently scoffed rolling your eyes, holding your laptop as close to your body as humanly possible.If he didn’t make his distaste towards you obvious by his reaction last night, he surely made it painfully clear just now. 
“That’s the one.” Chan nodded, sending you a pitying look, one you didn’t need. You knew you were fucked. 
Everyone knew about your painful crush on Mingyu. Everyone had seen you grab the collar of his dark maroon shirt last night and plant a wet alcohol filled kiss against his lips. Everyone had seen the way he reacted, yanking his suit jacket off the back of his chair and walking out of the bar pissed. So, you didn’t need the various pitying looks you were getting since the moment you walked in that morning.
“Alright then I’ll see you then, don’t forget to turn in your proposal by tomorrow night, Jeonghan keeps bugging me about it.” 
Chan sighed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, “shit, I’ll have it done by tomorrow morning.” He said quickly before speed walking back to his cubicle. Leaving you alone to face the problem you had caused. 
Mingyu laughed lightly, shaking his head as he shut the door to his office, “I knew he forgot.” He mumbled before straightening his back, the scowl you were used to seeing appeared on his face once again. He walked past you to his desk, taking a seat next to his name plate. You stayed put, looking down at the floor, only counting the tiny dust bunnies that were visible to your eye. 
Mingyu cleared his throat, “We need to talk about what happened last night.” 
You raised your head pushing yourself off the wall and walked to him. Stopping behind one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Don’t need to, It’s my fault for breaking company policy. I’ll hand in my resignation letter to Jeonghan tonight.” You kept your eyes trained on the skyscraper reflecting through the window behind him. Anything was better than looking at him right now. 
He sighed, running a frustrated hand across his face. He pushed himself away from his desk and took a step forward. “I didn’t call you in here to ask you to resign.” 
Confused, you tore your eyes from the building behind him and looked at him. The bags under his eyes that had started to form from lack of sleep and overwork were now more prominent than before. It made you wonder if he hadn’t slept last night because of you, but then you remembered the huge project he was currently working on, so you casted that thought aside.
“Oh then...I-umm, why am I here?” 
“Do you have any idea the position you put me in last night?” He furrowed his brows, placing a knee down on the chair in front of him. He leaned his forearms against the back of it, closing the distance you purposely kept between the two of you. 
You took a step back, scrunching your nose, “I don’t understand. You don’t want me to resign. If I’m not getting penalized then why am I here?” You dropped your arms in defeat. “If you called me in here to tell me you’re not interested in me, you don’t have to. I already know.” You finished swallowing the lump that had formed at the back of your throat. 
“That’s the problem.” Mingyu pointed an accusing finger at you before retreating it. “I am interested in you, more than interested in you. I have strong feelings for you and I can’t act on them because I don’t want everyone to think that I favor you, because I do.” 
I’m dreaming, you thought pressing the palm of your hand against your heated forehead. You had to be dreaming, life has never been this giving to you, “wait I’m confused...you ran out last night, literally pushed me away, disgusted. Do you have any idea how that felt? I had to sit down and face our co-workers with a fake smile on my face because I didn’t want them to see me cry.” 
Mingyu’s face softened, he gripped the back of the chair hard enough for his knuckles to almost turn white. “I know and I’m sorry but if I had stayed then I would’ve kept kissing you. You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do that.” He dropped his head releasing a shuddering breath. “Every time we stayed here working over time, the only thing I could think about was how easy it’d be if I just leaned over a little more and kissed you. No one would be around, no one would see, it would just be our little secret. But the stupid company policy always seemed to find it’s way into my head and I never let myself cross that boundary.”
“Mingyu w-why are you telling me this now? Even if we have feelings for one another, my job is important to me and I don’t want to risk getting fired because we’re together.” You blinked rapidly, now was not the time to cry. You could cry later in the communal bathroom across the hall, or on the bus ride home, just anywhere but here. 
“Well,” Mingyu rounded the corner of the chairs and made his way to you, finally closing the distance. “I talked to Jeonghan -”
“Wait you told him we kissed?” You were sure your eyes were bulging out of their sockets as the realization hit you. Of course, Mingyu wasn’t going to fire you, he was saving himself the burden and having Jeonghan do it for him. 
He chuckled, placing a hand against your hip making you jump, “Just how drunk were you last night? Jeonghan was there when it happened. He called me and threatened to fire me for leaving you the way I did.” He whispered, circling his arm around you and pulling you close, making you stumble from the sudden impact. “H’said, fuck company policy and that I was stupid for following it when no one does.” 
“Wait are you saying th -” 
“Yes we can be together as long as we keep our work and personal lives separate, so, no sex in my office.” 
You gasped hitting his chest lightly, this lewd side of Mingyu was one you had never seen before. Or at least you had but in a much more subtle way. “Well of course, we can’t do that. That was never going to be part of the deal.” The thought of him pressing you against his desk after hours sent a thrilling shiver up your spine. You bit your lip, shaking your head. No, not allowed, focus. 
“Why not? I’ve slept on the couch here a few times. It's pretty comfortable.” He reassured, hooking his thumb in the belt loops of your dark slacks. “And your ass looks so good in these pants, I literally have to make it my mission to not stare.” 
“I’m flattered, I guess. But look around Gyu.” His gaze followed your hand as you waved it around in front of him. “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see -” 
He pulled you closer, eloping your body in both of his arms, “so?” He tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing against his lips. You had forgotten how much he liked to tease you. 
“So?” You rolled your eyes, “were you not listening to what I was saying everyone can see.” You emphasized, poking his cheek with your index finger. 
Mingyu bit his bottom lip trying to suppress his laughter. He forgot how easily flustered you could get, especially when he would say something out of pocket to you. Sure, half of the time you would ignore him, sometimes you would simply roll your eyes, focused on whatever you were working on. Other times he would leave you at a loss for words.
“Frankly, I don’t see the problem. We can just wait until everyone goes home and then give whoever is walking by a free show.” He finished raising his eyebrows suggestively at you. 
You rolled your eyes, pushing him away and walked to his door. “I can’t believe you’re already thinking about having sex with me and you haven’t even asked me out on a date or to be your girlfriend.” You pushed his door open and walked out, “the audacity you have Kim Mingyu.” 
He felt panic surge through him, his big mouth getting the best of him once again. “Woah woah wait I was getting there, you didn’t give me the chance to ask.” He followed you out the door, trying to keep up with your hasty steps. Who knew you could walk so fast in heels. 
Once you were at your cubicle you sat down, placing your laptop on top of your desk, waking it up. “Too late, company policy says we have to keep our work and personal lives separate, guess you’re going to have to wait a while.” You look at the digital clock on your desk, “Five and a half hours to be exact.” 
Mingyu threw his head back, frustrated. As much as he enjoyed teasing you, he had forgotten that you were equally as evil if not worse. He had waited to ask you out for more than two years and now that he could, he literally couldn’t wait five and a half hours.
“Friday, after work?” He whispered, covering the side of his mouth with his hand to make it look less suspicious. It wasn’t working.
“What about guys night and that cute bartender?” You smirked, clicking around your computer opening the files you were working on earlier. 
Mingyu took a deep breath and grabbed the back of your chair, swinging it around ripping you away from your computer screen. “Fuck guys night honey, I’m taking you home, cooking you the best meal you’ve ever had and then -” He stopped peaking over your cubicle. Everyone that had tuned in to your debacle, quickly scrambled to focus on whatever they were doing before you and Mingyu walked in. He nodded once before leaning down, his lips close to your ear, whispering, “then I’m going to fuck you against my window so everyone can see that you’re finally mine.” 
You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning.You put your hand on his chest and leaned in, placing a soft kiss against the shell of his ear. “Kinky, ask me again in five and a half hours.” You gave his cheek a gentle pat before pushing him away, returning your attention to what you were doing. 
Mingyu grumbled, shoulders slumped as he dragged himself back to his office. You stifled a laugh, the butterflies you had once felt for him returning. 
“You know I heard all of that.” Soonyoung spoke, peeking his head into your cubicle, his eyes wide like he had just seen a ghost, or something utterly disgusting.
Fuck! Mingyu! You whined silently before turning to face your cubicle mate. “I’ll buy you lunch if you pretend like you didn’t hear anything.” 
He put a pensive hand on his chin before sticking his hand out for you to shake. “Deal, I suddenly have been overcome with amnesia, whatever happened in the last five minutes I do not remember, that’s only if you promise to also finish revising this project proposal for me.” He waved the large packet of white copy paper in front of you. 
You groaned, “that wasn’t part of the deal we just shook on.” 
He sucked in air, “I don’t remember that.” He pouted. “I have amnesia, remember.” 
“Fuck fine.”
193 notes · View notes
missymurphy1985 · 3 years
Text
The Rebel (Cillian X OC OneShot)
Warning - smut - and this IS only a one shot, I can't cope writing another series at the minute 😂
Request? Yep!
Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @darlingjaye
"The fuck does she get off?" Cillian cried, throwing his bag across the trailer he shared with Paul Anderson.
"Someone's a fan of my new love interest!" Paul laughed watching Cillian fume as he paced the small trailer over and over again.
"I knew casting her was a mistake, she's fucking delusional!!!"
"What's she done now..."
"Literally THREW her coffee cup at her PA because she put milk in it... THREW IT!!! At her PA!!! Poor girl was fucking terrified man!"
"She's hot though, ain't she?'
"What? Fuck sake Paul you ever NOT think with your dick?" Paul smirked, raising his eyebrows at Cillian knowingly. "Yes okay, she's a good looking girl, but that doesn't mean she can get away with trampling over people to get her own way does it?"
"Maybe she just needs a good, solid man to ground her a little, bring her back to earth a bit?" Paul smirked.
"Go for it man, good luck to you. Last fella she had probably still needs therapy."
"Oh I wasn't talking about me mate." Cillian looked at him suspiciously.
"What?"
"Oh for fucks sake Cillian, when was your last eye test? Can you not see what's clear as daylight, right in front of you??" Cillian's eyes widened, not understanding a word coming out of Paul's mouth.
"You've lost me."
"Wonder if she's part Irish. Or wants to be...." Cillian's face contorted.
"Don't use that line it's fucking cheesy... Never works either. What's your point?"
"Mate if you don't get in there quick, she's gonna lose interest and Finn will be at it like a shot!"
"You're having a laugh aren't you? I'm not even remotely interested!"
"Uh huh. Okay. Just don't say I didn't warn you eh?" Paul put his baseball cap on and headed out the door, still with a smirk on his face. Cillian took a seat on the sofa and ran his fingers through what was left of his hair, rolling his eyes. Yes, Natalie was fucking hot... But my god was she challenging.
Throwing that cup today was one thing. Telling the director she didn't like her character was another. Her original character was supposed to be Tommy's new 'plaything' behind Lizzie's back, but Natalie had apparently requested a change of direction - she wanted to be Arthur's new love interest, nothing to do with Tommy at all. That confused Cillian, and he'd had to think back to see if he'd ever worked with her in the past, obviously he'd pissed her off at some stage, why else would being his onscreen love interest be so repulsive to her that she demanded an entire script change?
Heading into the bathroom, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He wasn't exactly repulsive, surely? Yes he had a few more wrinkles now that he did in series one, but he was nearly 45 now...
He shook his head quickly - why did it even bother him whether she found him attractive or not?? She was 32, not that much younger than him but still way out of his league, and to top it off she was a fucking nightmare!
But those legs... Her eyes... Her lips... He couldn't help himself imagining those lips wrapped around his cock when he lay in bed in his Manchester apartment alone at night... Without thinking he found himself palming the growing erection under his jeans, feeling that familiar stirring in his groin. Shaking his head quickly, he splashed his face with cold water and rearranged himself in his jeans, calming himself down before he embarrassed himself. Once his erection had gone down, he headed back out of the trailer and over to his hire car, the driver ready and waiting to take him back to the apartment block.
Natalie opened her apartment door and crashed onto the sofa, exhausted. A full week of intense filming, she was more than ready for a soak in the bath and a glass of Shiraz. Opening the cupboard in the kitchen area she groaned - no wine. She also remembered the bubble bath she'd bought, and subsequently left in her trailer back on set...
She fished around in her bag for her room key again, and bit her lip. She knew exactly who would have a bottle of bubble bath... She groaned to herself, having successfully avoided him up until now but her aching limbs were crying out for some Radox. She left her apartment and knocked on the door across the hall.
Cillian answered a few minutes later with just a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet.
"Erm... Hey?" He asked, not opening the door fully, more hiding himself behind it.
"Okay um, this is random I know, but I was just wondering if maybe you had any bubble bath going spare? Please?"
"Really?" He laughed.
"Is it so surprising to you that a girl likes a bath now and again?"
"No actually, what's surprising is that you actually have manners."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You said 'please'. Didn't think you had it in you."
"Listen, you either have bubble bath spare, or you don't, it's a simple fucking question Cillian."
"Those tactics won't work with me love." Cillian
"Forget it, for fucks sake..." She turned to leave, rolling her eyes.
"Wait.. yes I have spare. Come in, I'll grab it for you." He pushed the door open so Natalie could walk inside, before heading into the bathroom. Coming back out with his jeans on, she couldn't help but be drawn to his toned chest and biceps, his upper body still damp from his own bath moments before she'd disturbed him.
Cillian caught her checking him out and smirked a little, handing over the bottle of Radox. She took it, smiling a touch herself.
"You smile too." She lowered her eyes and tried to hide the grin on her face. "You're not as hard faced as you try and make out, are you?" His arms were folded across his chest now, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Her eyes suddenly watered, and she bit her lip. Cillian frowned watching her well up and instinctively moved closer, taking her shoulders into his hands.
"Hey now... I didn't mean to upset you..."
"No... No I deserved it. God I'm so sick of this!"
"Sick of what?"
"I have this reputation of being a diva... With my career... I just like things to be perfect and when they're not I can lose my temper so quickly and it's fucking horrible and I make people hate me!" She choked back a sob, and Cillian pulled her into his arms, holding her as her shoulders shook.
"We all like things to be perfect Nat, but life doesn't work out like a fairytale, things just go wrong and that's okay?"
"I know, and I always feel so fucking guilty afterwards.. I can't stop now - my reputation is the only thing keeping me in the press, keeping me relevant..."
"You're kidding, right? So all this bitchiness, the demanding ways - it's an act?"
"Some of my best work has been off camera Cill." He couldn't help but laugh. He opened the cupboard and pulled out two small glasses, followed by a bottle of Irish Whiskey. Offering Nat one, she nodded, and they both moved into the lounge area.
They talked for a while - comparing stories of Hollywood, other actors they'd worked with, before Cillian cleared his throat. He needed to know the truth about her changing the script to be Arthur's love interest rather than Tommy's, and now she'd sank a few whiskeys, she was probably loose enough to tell him straight.
She hung her head, embarrassed. She knew he'd probably find out eventually, being one of the producers, but she hoped if she avoided him long enough she'd never need to reveal the truth to him.
"I also turned down Inception. And they offered me Thandie Newton's role in The Retreat."
"Okay..."
"I turned them all down when I found out you were in them."
"Ouch!" He chuckled nervously, "I don't think I want to ask why!"
"Because.. and this is awkward so don't laugh yeah?" He nodded as a promise not to, but his eyes widened when she revealed the truth. "Because I've had a crush on you since I was a teenager... And I didn't wanna make it awkward but I guess I just kinda did.."
Cillian was stunned into silence for a minute, or five. His silence made her nervous, and she pulled herself off the sofa to head out, realising how much of a fool she'd made herself. Making a mental note to blame the whiskey in the morning, she stood up, only to feel his hands suddenly on her waist as he stood up next to her.
"So that's why you didn't want to play Tommy's love interest, huh?" He held her in front of him, his hands squeezing her hips as he pulled her closer.
"Would've been too awkward.. for me at least.." closer still, their faces now inches apart.
"Does this feel awkward?" Their bodies met, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel how aroused he was, pressed up against her, making her breathing heavier.
"No..." He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against hers, just ghosting over them.
"And this?" He whispered, his hands moving up, not quite over her breasts, just underneath them and round her lower ribs. She couldn't speak, just shook her head. Her breath hitching in her throat as a hand snaked back down, under her leggings and underwear, softly caressing her inner thigh and mound. Cillian glanced at her, her eyes closed and breathing deepening as his fingers traced her core, pushing a finger inside her to feel how much she was throbbing for him.
"Want me to help you with that?" She nodded again, and felt his fingers probe her, moving up slightly to brush against her clit making her hips grind against him and her fingers press into his biceps. His fingers moved slowly, circling the small bud.
"That feels good...." She panted, rocking her hips to ride his fingers, needing more.
He responded by moving his fingers quicker, pushing the small button harder. Her head fell against his chest and she groaned, her orgasm coming quickly.
"Gonna make a mess on my fingers, Nat?" He whispered in her ear, her breath coming in short bursts now. His other hand moved to her hair, pulling the bobble from it and letting it fall down her back, running his fingers through and tugging it to pull her head back. His lips on her neck, biting and sucking at the skin. Her hand resting on his arm, keeping him in place as he fingered her.
"Don't stop... Don't stop... Faster..." She gasped, and he happily complied. Rubbing her clit hard now under her clothing.
"Make a mess on me, cum for me..." She came with a force she'd never felt before, gripping onto his arms and holding his arm steady, riding her hips against his hand as her orgasm began to subside. He gave her a few minutes to catch her breath before pulling his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste her, groaning at the sweetness and pressing his lips against hers.
Bringing her close again, he backed her up until her calves hit the sofa, before laying her against the cushions and pulling her leggings down, her underwear with them. She spread her legs, biting her lip as his mouth kissed up her thighs.
"You want me to fuck you, Nat?" He lifted her t shirt over her head, her body completely bare now as she nodded.
Her fingers pulled at his jeans, and he unfastened them, easing his erection out before allowing them to fall to the floor, kicking them across the room. Natalie pushed him onto the sofa, sitting up against the cushions before straddling him, his hard cock now pressed against her soaked core.
"I'm gonna fuck you, that okay?" She smiled, her forehead pressed against his as she sunk down on his length, gasping at the sensation of being completely filled by the man she had fantasised about for years. His hands moved to her hips, before she moved them, putting them behind his head, taking full control. He smirked, before his mouth fell open - her hips riding him felt incredible. Pulling her body up, keeping the tip inside, she bounced gently, teasing him. Sinking down on him again, only to repeat the process. His legs were shaking from the sensations.
"Don't tease me, ride me." His blue eyes were like ice, and Nat sunk down so he was fully sheathed before moving her hips back and forth. She released his hands and gripped onto his shoulders for leverage, arching her body backwards slightly so his cock hit against her g spot deep inside her. One of his hands moved to her ass cheek, the other to one of her breasts, both of them squeezing and kneading at the flesh as her body grinded against him.
The hand on her ass moved round to circle her still sensitive clit, making her hips jerk faster.
"Cillian.... Cillian...." Her breathy moans of his name, the way her pussy clamped him, claiming him completely, the feel of her firm breast in his hand, the way her eyes fluttered closed as her orgasm approached... She was intoxicating.
"Baby.. I'm close..." He groaned, feeling that burning coil in his abdomen.
"Me too... I'm on the pill..." He grinned and held her hips still, pounding his hips up hard from underneath her. He had to cover her mouth to silence her loud screams, careful not to alert Paul in the next apartment. That only seemed to turn her on more, and she took two of his fingers into her mouth, sucking them, still tasting herself on them from earlier. The hand on her ass slapped it and squeezed it hard in response, making her cry out.
"That's it... Good girl... Fuck, I'm gonna cum..." Her orgasm flowed from her at his words, and she felt him shoot several streams of hot cum deep inside her as her walls clenched around him, milking him for all he had to give her.
Their foreheads pressed together again, both panting as they rode out the waves of pleasure.
"Does that live up to your fantasy?" He chuckled, groaning a little as she gave him a final clench of her walls.
"More than... Fuck that was incredible..." She gasped, gently rocking against him, not wanting him to leave her body just yet. She could feel him hardening again, in fact she wasn't sure he even softened.
"Don't stop, keep moving... Nice and slow.. Just like that..." He helped her hips move slowly, riding him gently.
"You're insatiable, aren't you..." She groaned.
"You feel too good wrapped around me, full of my cum deep inside you... You gonna let me fill you up again yeah?" She didn't answer, instead just allowed him to move her against him. He brought her hand down to rub her clit, needing to feel her cum again. She circled the bud gently at first, then feeling his cock start to twitch inside her she picked up the pace. He suddenly moved them so she was underneath him, his hips pistoning into her as he bent his head down to watch her fingers pleasuring herself.
"I'm gonna cum, Cillian...."
"I'm right there with you, come on..." A deep groan from both of them as they came together, him filling her up for the second time.
His body fell against hers as she held his shoulders, his face buried in her neck lightly caressing the skin with the tip of his nose.
"Fuck... Natalie... I haven't been able to do that for years," he laughed, hissing slightly pulling his sensitive cock out of her. Their mixed juices flowing from her onto the sofa cushion.
"I only came over for bubble bath.." she chuckled, her head laid back against the arm of the sofa as she caught her breath.
"My bath's probably still warm, might as well jump in with me?" He offered.
"No funny business in there, I think I need a breather..."
"Better make it a quick bath then. You're not leaving this apartment tonight. Or this weekend, in fact."
114 notes · View notes
themaribatpit · 3 years
Text
Saturday Challenge: Double Crossover
Written by: The Maribat Pit   Prompt: Double Crossover Rated: M rating just to be safe (sexual references, mostly because of some very unsavory things Lila thinks and implies about Marinette.) Marinette x Jason Phantom of the Opera (specifically Hush Jason, from 2020′s Death in the Family).
A/N (Maribat fangirl): There is going to be a lot of class salt, Lila salt and some heavy duty character bashing.  I’m going to be upfront, there’s characters being called harlots. A/N (DC fanboy): My S.O. and I pretty much did karaoke while writing this.
Paris, 1875. Marinette worked in her parents bakery, while she loved her family dearly, she was dissatisfied with her current lot in life. She wished to become a singer, and everyday as she walked in the streets of Paris to bring flour to the bakery, she would stop and stare at the Conservatoire de Paris. The enchanting music and singing could be heard even in the streets.
Listening to music always reminded her of her favourite fairy tale told by her father, the one about  ‘Angel of Music’. She would sit on the street across the Conservatoire, close her eyes and listen to the beautiful music emanating from it. Once she tried to sing along, but passersby would be swift to yell at her to stop. They described her voice sounding like a rusty hinge.
Upon her 15th birthday, her parents presented to her a once in a lifetime opportunity. They had presented her with an approved application to the Conservatoire, they had saved enough money for tuition and would be sending her there to chase her dreams as an opera singer. Marinette held her parents tightly, thanking them constantly for the amazing opportunity.
That night, Marinette was unable to sleep, she was beaming with energy and excitement. She could not believe how her luck was changing, how she would be going to the musical academy of her dreams.
The next morning however she would be in a nervous panic for her first day of lessons. Running about the home, getting prepared, packing her bags. She even forgot to eat breakfast, she ran out the door with a croissant in her mouth, much to the chagrin of her parents.
However, her dream academy soon became a waking nightmare to her. She would be tormented daily by all her peers, especially one Lila Rossi, the prima donna of the academy. Every professor would sneer at her low birth, and did nothing when the others tried to sabotage her standing at the Academy.  She tried to keep her head held high, even as everyone else looked down on her for being a baker’s daughter. Marinette ignored the comments and rumours about how she was able to attend the prestigious academy.  Rumours that she dared not repeat, about how she and her parents must be criminals if they were able to afford to send her to the academy.  
It wasn’t enough for her to be stuck in the chorus, Lila Rossi wanted to make sure her place as prima donna of the academy was ironclad. A couple of the teachers felt that she was growing more temperamental, more complacent, and their eyes began to wander for a dancer to take her place.  The other dancers were unwilling to take her place, all except for Marinette, who saw it as a shining opportunity.  For Lila, this simply would not stand.  
The one time Marinette found a pair of scissors that had been used to cut the laces on her pointe shoes.  The same scissors that were missing from her sewing box days earlier. She decided that the time had come to confront Lila once and for all.
Marinette confronted her just before rehearsals began, scissors in hand, in front of everyone.  “Is it true?” she called, everyone turned to look at them.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Lila gasped.  She looked down to see her wearing her worn out slippers, before looking back up at her face.  “You do know you’re meant to be wearing your toe shoes now, right? The show is in a few days.” she reminded her.
“I do,” she breathed, “I also know it was you, you’re the one who cut the laces on my pointe shoes.”
Lila gasped and stepped back, everyone else was shocked by the accusation. She looked away for a moment, and squeezed her eyes shut.  Marinette knew the trick well from their acting classes at the academy, she was getting ready to make it look like she was crying.  “Why? Why would you accuse me of something like this?” she made sure her voice wavered as she spoke, “what reason do I have to sabotage a background dancer’s shoes?”
Marinette knew she had lost the battle before it had even begun, every dancer would move to protect Lila and her crocodile tears.  Lila was the prima donna, the daughter of a diplomat, and she had the entire academy in the palm of her hand.  “Perhaps there was some mistake,” she muttered, walking away from her classmates rushing to defend Lila’s fake tears.  It was useless trying to explain that the scissors were stolen from her, and that this was an elaborate setup.  It was her word against Lila’s, as the directors tried to command the dancer’s attention, Marinette ran.  
Once again, she tried to keep her head held high, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe her when she told them about Lila’s machinations.   She made a habit of keeping her costumes and pointe shoes hidden.  On occasion bringing them home whenever she visited her parent’s bakery, somewhere that little saboteur would not even think to look for them.
Months later, tragedy struck again when she received a letter informing her that her parent’s bakery had been burned.  Her parents, her hopes, her dreams all burned to ash in one night.  It was made worse by the fact that one rehearsal, Lila snatched the letter out of her hands and read it aloud for the entire company of dancers and singers to hear.   She assumed that it would be some kind of love note, probably preparing to spread rumours about Marinette sneaking off into the night with a mystery lover.  Instead, Lila simply made a show of pitying Marinette, “poor thing, it’s worse than I thought.  Unless you can find a patron to support you, your days at the academy are going to be numbered.”
Just as the theatre managers had arrived, Marinette fled, keeping her head down as tears were welling up in her eyes and blurring her vision.  Since the day she arrived she had been mocked, humiliated, tormented simply so that one girl could have the adoration and sympathy of her fellow performers.  Through all the salacious rumours and lies, she tried her best to ignore them and carry herself through it all.  The loss of her parents, their bakery, and now Marinette’s hopes and dreams, it was all too much to bear.  
Marinette ran to an empty music room to cry her heart out, she sat right against the wall, knees curled up to her chest and sobbed into her legs. In this state of absolute despair, she began to sing a song of her favourite fairy tale that her father would sing to her whenever she had a nightmare.  She sang a soft, painful prayer for the Angel of Music and a farewell to her lost parents. “Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say goodbye…”, her singing was hoarse, off key, full of sorrow.
The more she sang, the harder she cried. Soon to the point that she could not complete the song. However, a disembodied voice sang the remaining verse for her. Marinette paused from her crying to look for the voice, it felt as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. It was hypnotising, elegant, enchanting. She walked out of the music room to try to find the source of the singing.
“Come to me, Angel of Music.” The voice sang, in a smooth tenor voice, luring Marinette as if she was a moth attracted to a flame. The voice led her to a musical hall, reserved only for the academy’s annual showcase. She turned the door knob, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She peeked her head through the door to see a cloaked figure playing the organ, the source of the enchanting voice. “Insolent girl, this slave of fashion. Basking in your glory.” The figure angrily sang “Ignorant fool, this prima donna.”
“Angel of Music, is that you?” Marinette tentatively asked the figure. The figure stopped playing, and turned around to face her. Marinette was taken aback by the figure, he was a tall man, wearing a red mask on the left side of his face. Another distinctive feature other than his magnificent voice was the white streak of hair and piercing green eyes.
“You are unlike any of the fools in this academy. You did not join this academy for fame or fortune. No, you came here because of your love of music.” The figure told her. He took a deep breath and composed himself, straightening his jacket. Then he raised an arm, reaching out to Marinette. “I am your Angel of Music, come to me Angel of Music.”  Marinette walks forward and accepts the Angel’s hand, thus beginning their first musical lesson together.
Marinette’s talent and ability in music skyrocketed with her extra-curricular lessons.   Her mysterious patron was also the one continuing to fund her education at the academy.  Meanwhile, no one else had the time to spread rumours about Marinette, not when there were rumours of a ghost haunting the Conservatoire.  
Unbeknownst to Marinette, she was the key to establishing control over a very profitable endeavour for her mysterious patron. The managers were being extorted to the tune of 20,000 francs and requested that box five remain open.  This money was nothing to them, especially when the sons and daughters of the wealthy and powerful were attending.  Very few had seen Jason’s face, and if they did, they would draw back in fear.   It was the result of a boyhood accident that left him changed and altered in more ways than one.  Taking control of the Conservatoire was merely the first step in taking control of an entire city.  This girl, Marinette, was the key to captivating their attention.  She would hold their attention and adoration as the rising star of the academy, drawing their eyes away from his growing influence and power.  Using talents and potential that they had cast aside, twisting their own hubris against them.  
Months later, everyone in the academy worked towards its annual showcase for its patrons, the nobility and all family members of its students. Lila had grown bored of tormenting Marinette, and had moved on to other victims.  She had her other dancers and singers wrapped around her little finger, and all eyes would be on her at the annual showcase.  
At last the day of the annual showcase had arrived, Lila sat at her personal preparation room, after all she would be the star of the show. She walked over to her wardrobe and opened it, she then screamed in horror to see her dress tattered and in pieces.
In the days leading to the showcase the Director of Conservatoire de Paris had received threatening letters demanding 20,000 Francs, box 5 to remain vacant and worse of all to replace Lila Rossi with some baker’s daughter. Director Bourgeois scoffed at the threats, tossing the letter away.
The next day during the rehearsal for one of the ballet numbers, students and teachers paid no mind to the threats that were outlined in the letter. Until one of the dancers looked up and gasped in horror. The other dancers looked up to find the stagehand hanging from the rafters. The theatre soon bursts into screams of fear as they all see the dead body of the stagehand.   Director Bourgeois ordered all faculty members and students present to remain silent of the murder. This prestigious institution could not afford such a scandal this close to such an important showcase. As the Director inspected the body, he found a letter titled to him attached to the corpse of a stagehand.
Director Bourgeois read the second letter with shaky hands, it read “Monsieur Bourgeois, good day to you. It seems you did not take my threat seriously. I present to you this corpse to show my sincerity. I see you have a young daughter, pray that no harm would befall her. I shall reiterate my demands, 20,000 francs, box five remain vacant and Mademoiselle Marinette shall replace the harlot Lila Rossi.”
Director Bourgeois collapsed into his chair, wiping his sweat. Until he heard a scream from outside his office. He ran out as fast as he could to see Lila Rossi confronting Marinette. Crocodile tears flowed from Lila’s eyes as she accused Marinette of sabotage, purposefully doing so in front of the Director's office.  
“How could you Marinette?” Lila wailed, “Whatever your reasons, how could you do this to me? To the Conservatoire?”
Marinette merely said “Lila, don’t you stay in a private room with guards patrolling the hallway outside?” She shrugs, “I was in my dormitory last night. Besides, how could anyone sneak into your room at night, unless they were a phantom?”
Director Bourgeois goes pale at Marinette’s implication, he had to intervene quickly, before the situation got worse. He attempted to placate Lila, “Now now mademoiselles, I can’t punish anybody unless we have solid evidence. As the saying goes ‘the show must go on.’ Signora Rossi, as you are currently unable to perform, I’m afraid Mademoiselle Marinette will have to take your place.”
Marinette’s eyes widened at the offer given to her, she could not believe it. Director Bourgeois himself offered her the star role for this year’s showcase. It is all as her Angel of Music said would happen. She accepted the role wholeheartedly and thanked the director profusely, she skipped back to the musical hall to begin rehearsals, now as the main lead.
Lila’s jaw dropped to see the director siding against her, how he gave away her role to that peasant without any hesitation. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, she stomped her way back to her bedroom to begin scheming the ultimate humiliation for Marinette. She was so distracted with her rage, she had not noticed a shadowy figure following her.
Lila planned to show the entire Opera house just who Marinette was, little more than a filthy peasant who got lucky.  She was supposed to have packed her bags and left months ago, after her parents and their pathetic little bakery burned down.  “This Opera Phantom had a lot of nerve calling me a harlot, when Marinette is probably his little harlot.” she muttered harshly in the darkness.  She searched the costume room for the lead actress’ dress, a long flowing gown that brushed against the floor.  It was made with the finest fabrics that money could buy, it almost broke Lila’s heart to sabotage it.  She would rather die than see it worn by some peasant girl, a pretender, a talentless sham of a performer.  Before she can lay hand on the dress to destroy it, a gloved hand reaches out and grabs her by the wrist.  A voice interrupts her, “What do you think you are doing with that?”
Lila slowly turns around to see a grotesque figure staring at her.  In the candlelight, she was horrified by the person she saw. The left half of his face was severely burned, almost completely disfigured. His bright green eyes flared with a fury that genuinely terrified Lila as the figure glared at her. She immediately drops everything and screams, as she runs out the door as fast as her legs would carry her, wailing and screaming how the ghost is trying to kill her. “He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera!” she wails as he chases her down. The Phantom pursues his prey. Just as Lila runs around a corner, the ghost is there waiting for her. She gives another horrified scream, falling to the floor and trying to crawl in the opposite direction. “No no no, please don't kill me!” She begged as tears blurred her vision.
Her howls and pleas of mercy attract nearby students, teachers and guards. They all arrive to see Lila screaming like a maniac on the floor, alone and raving about some ghost hunting her down. “The ghost is real! He is real I tell you! He’s going to kill me!” she sobbed. As Lila was being escorted out of the academy, gossip spread like wildfire. Within hours everyone would be talking about how Lila had lost all of her sanity because of the ghost.
They had no other choice at that moment, the show had to go on.  If they wanted the night to go smoothly, with no one noticing anything strange or peculiar, they had to meet the Phantom’s demands.  Marinette stood there, centre stage, with all of Paris’ most influential in the audience. She began to sing her show stopping aria.  
As she glided across the stage and looked out into the audience, her eyes searched for the man in the red mask.  She liked to imagine her Angel of Music beaming at her with pride, without him, she would still be that sad little girl crying in the music room.  She sang as loudly and as clearly as she could, hoping that her voice would pierce the heavens clearly enough for her mother and father to hear.  
As she reached her crescendo, she peaked with an E6. Her voice echoed across the entire hall with the sharpness and perfection of a veteran soprano singer. The audience collective dropped their jaws at the spectacle. Marinette ended her aria with a bow, and the theatre erupted with a thunderous round of applause.  
Jason watched from his seat in box five, with a self satisfied smile on his face.  From that day forth, he would see to it that all eyes were on her.  
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shihalyfie · 3 years
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Yamato, Adventure’s most dramatically emotional cast member
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The “edgy cool bishounen rival” has been such a staple of shounen anime for years that the moment you look at Yamato and his position next to Taichi, it’s easy to go “ah, yep, there it is.” But just like how Taichi’s actually very different from the shounen hero stereotype, Yamato, despite what his first impression and character design might suggest, is in fact the complete opposite!
Actually, I’ll start this off with an interesting story from Yamato’s own voice actor, Kazama Yuuto:
Yeah. When my agent asked me which role I wanted to try out, I thought I couldn’t do a pretty boy character like him, so I was really astonished when I was chosen for the role. Afterwards, when I asked Kakudou-san [the director] about it, he said that he’d decided on me the instant I’d come in... I’d heard that Yamato was a cool character, which I thought was a part of him that didn’t agree with me. So there was that factor in the beginning. But I learned that he was actually quite similar to me, and a surprisingly passionate guy.
I don’t generally have a huge tendency to include voice actor comments in analysis about writing, but I do think it says a lot that even his own voice actor walked in expecting the typical “pretty boy rival” character to the extent that he felt he’d have difficulty doing the role at all, only for the actual nature of Yamato’s character to catch him off guard! Because, yeah, that really is the case: Yamato’s first impression really is very deceptive, and his actual personality is, indeed, full of open passion and emotion in nearly every way.
Yamato in Adventure
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...No, really, it really does not take long for it to be very clear that Yamato’s immediately not like the stereotype his character archetype would suggest, considering that even as early as Adventure episode 2, he was depicted as very obviously being open about his opinions, even if that made him quick to criticize.
When you talk about “rival” characters, usually, the reason such characters seem cold and standoffish is that there’s a certain degree of pride to them, or, in other words, they want to keep up a facade of being “cool” and rational and thus aren’t quick to show their emotions. But Yamato isn’t like that at all! From the very beginning, he speaks often, is very open and honest about his thoughts, and doesn’t seem to even really care what others think at all.
The Adventure novels do, in fact, make clear that he was more closed-in prior to arriving in the Digital World, and these bursts of emotion were actually unusual behavior for him at the time -- but it’s not because he’s prideful or anything! Firstly, it wasn’t necessarily that he deliberately cut himself off from others -- rather, he was still willing to engage in some degree of friendly interaction:
It wasn’t because he was lonely. In fact, many of his classmates would greet him with a friendly “Yo!” or “Hi~!” when they came across him and, naturally, Yamato would respond back with a smile.
And, in fact, said novel indicates that there’s a lot going on deeper than him merely suppressing his emotions for the sake of it:
The people around Yamato may have thought that he was a cold, aloof person, but that was only because he didn’t show what he thought to other people. When had he become like that? He hadn’t been like that when he was younger. But after his parents decided to divorce and his mom took Takeru by the hand and left home… Don’t go! Please don’t go! Don’t leave me! The truth was, he had wanted to plead with her and cry — but he couldn’t. Part of it had to do with his father standing by his side. Maybe his mother had secretly wished for Yamato to say that to her. But at that moment, Yamato had thought that he would never show weakness in front of his mom, even if he died from it. It was his own decision to follow his dad. Ever since coming to the Digital World, even Yamato was surprised by how much emotion he expressed. All of the emotion that he’d held back while at home, at school, had come bursting out without pause.
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It’s also important to understand the reasons why he blows up so easily at Taichi in Adventure episodes 3 and 6 and whatnot -- he does it because he’s constantly looking out for the others and worried about their welfare. Pretty much all of the arguments he has with Taichi for the majority of the series involve him objecting to his perception of Taichi as insensitive, because Taichi has a tendency to tease others or bid for everyone to keep pushing forward into dangerous situations or when they’re tired. So, really, Yamato gets angered and emotional and picks his fights with Taichi because he cares too much, not because he’s deliberately trying to cultivate an image of being detached. Once they were outside the range of his family and their classmates and stranded in another world, Yamato’s bleeding heart instantly won out, and he started advocating for the welfare of everyone else.
This is why Yamato’s the one who gets the Crest of Friendship, because even though he starts off by putting up a defensive wall between himself and the others and seems very difficult to deal with, even when he gets angry and upset, he’s constantly upset on other people’s behalf. Even from the very beginning of the series, he’s actually one of the most caring people in the cast!
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Really, the entire first few introductory episodes with Yamato can be pretty succinctly described as Yamato coping really badly with all those years of emotional suppression and letting it out in some pretty severe outbursts, especially when it comes to Takeru, whom he’d never been able to properly take care of as an older brother due to their parents’ divorce. (And while he’s definitely a little better at managing it, Takeru himself is actually also doing a pretty bad job with that whole emotional suppression and lack of catharsis thing.) Standoffish and cold? Nah -- not when Yamato has the single highest count of openly breaking down and crying out of the whole cast in Adventure.
And, for all it’s worth, remember that stereotypical “cold rival” characters in this kind of shounen series would normally be very ashamed at others seeing them so emotional, but Yamato...doesn’t really seem to care about the others seeing him do some really embarrassingly reckless stuff during his episodes of exploding over Takeru’s welfare. Once it’s past him, he doesn’t really dwell on it and moves on. Again: Yamato isn’t the kind of person who actually cares that much about what other people think of him.
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Adventure episode 18 is an often-overlooked episode when it comes to Yamato, but it’s significant because it makes it clear that he doesn’t really have a problem being conversational and friendly with others (especially since, remember, any emotional suppression had more to do with the trauma and sensitive feelings surrounding his parents’ divorce and a desire to not show weakness) -- he starts a very lighthearted, friendly chat with Koushirou over why they’re looking for their Crests, and even admits that the reason he wants his own Crest is that he’s self-conscious about the idea of everyone else changing and improving as people while he gets left behind. That’s a really personal thing to admit, and arguably something very sensitive! It’s something you wouldn’t even blame him for potentially being self-conscious about! But he’s perfectly humble in admitting that this is something he wants to improve in, and carries on this entire conversation in a light-hearted, cheerful manner.
This episode takes place during a time where everything seems to be “safe” (they’re within Piccolomon’s barrier and finally have a proper place to sleep), and are on the verge of finding their own Crests in a situation that does not ostensibly involve running for their lives, so this is when you get to see Yamato in a relaxed situation. And, really, he’s very friendly and open, with no restraint about it. He really isn’t the kind of person to be condescending or cold by nature!
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It’s even more incorrect to pin Yamato as someone who tries to act more on rationality (again, like the “cold rival” stereotype would suggest) because, in fact, he’s the kind of person who gets completely carried away by his own caring for others to the extent of irrationality. For instance, in Adventure episode 23 when his conflicting loyalties to Takeru versus wanting to help Jou in his situation get all mixed up, and he tries to buy into PicoDevimon's trick to turn Jou against him as a solution to taking sides before Jou clearly indicates this is the case, and Yamato doesn't hesitate to feel really bad about it. Openly so. Condescension? Nah.
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No, really, I could just keep taking screenshots from Adventure all day if you want evidence of “Yamato is openly and passionately emotional to explosive degrees because he cares too much about others, and makes no real pretense of hiding it.” If you’re still not convinced, I don’t know what to tell you.
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When Yamato infamously succumbs to Jureimon’s bait in Adventure episode 44 and ends up picking a fight with Taichi -- possibly his most self-centered action in the entire series -- it’s interesting to see that Jureimon does use the word “rival”, the same word used in anime trope lingo to describe “the person you’re constantly fighting with and competing with in order to improve yourself”. The reason why this is fascinating is that Adventure is making a point here that this kind of “stereotypical anime rival” relationship would be extremely unhealthy for these characters.
No, really: at least as far as Yamato’s concerned, and what defines the kind of “friendship” these particular kids need, what these kids need is mutual emotional support, not engineered conflict that can be passed off as “they fight but it’s a sign of how much they know each other!” Remembering that Adventure is, in many ways, a series that prioritizes wanting to focus on portraying the intimate nature of human behavior, it’s not surprising that it goes out of its way to make clear that centering your relationship with a friend around needing to “outdo” them is a really bad thing. (Observe how 02′s Daisuke and Ken also don’t fit the “rivals” archetype at all and are merely a straightforward relationship of best friends in little to no conflict, despite occupying the stereotypical position.)
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But Jureimon successfully digs into all of Yamato’s insecurities about his perceived lack of self-improvement and his tendency to compare himself to the polar-opposite Taichi in terms of Taichi’s charisma and way of (ostensibly) playing better to Takeru’s dislike of being coddled. And so, the engineered conflict happens, and, of course, it traumatizes everyone around them. When Yamato finally manages to get over himself after some timely intervention from “the one who seeks stability” (Homeostasis) in Adventure episode 45, everyone in the group is miserable from the ordeal.
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Adventure episode 51 basically lays down the two major issues Yamato had been facing up until that point, and ties it into a neat bow: the reason Yamato had become so obsessed with self-improvement was because he wanted to prove he was "independent" and "not weak", but in the end, he still sees himself as an inferior person compared to everyone else -- culminating in him eventually seeing Taichi as a better person than him. Gabumon reaches out to Yamato by clarifying Yamato’s right to not compete, but be unique; it’s not about competing or being a “better” or “worse” version of others, it’s finding his important niche in the group or in the world with the things only he’s good at. Yamato says it in explicit words in Two-and-a-Half Year Break:
Dad doesn’t remember. On the day when we had to decide whether Takeru or I would go with him… Neither Dad or Mom could decide, so I did. I thought, this way, Takeru would be able to stay with Mom. I chose for myself. And after that, I always chose for myself. Or that’s what I’d planned to. Even though I was called a Chosen Child, it was me who was going to choose what to do. No way was I going to be used for other people’s convenience. Maybe that’s why I went so far to keep myself from making friends. But in the end, I acknowledged that what I was doing was unreasonable. After all, I’m not living in this world by myself. If I hadn’t met Gabumon, I never would have realized that. The person I am right now, is not alone.
As long as Yamato only ever sees himself as a replaceable piece meant to fill in the same niches as everyone else, he’ll continue to be horribly critical of himself for not being a perfect person and ultimately being “useless” or “not necessary”. But it’s not about being perfect or a better or worse replacement, it’s about embracing himself and what he can do in his own way, and, indeed, at the end of the episode, Yamato’s arrival on the scene makes it clear that the group ultimately needs both of them, not just one.
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It’s also interesting in that, whereas most of the kids (especially in the Adventure finale) are very open about their own feelings to their own partners, Yamato and Gabumon are capable of “communicating” in some sense just by Yamato playing the harmonica. But it’s perhaps because Yamato is normally so open and passionate about his own feelings that such a tacit method is something they can do -- they’ve already bared themselves to each other so many times already, that in the end, all they need to do is just enjoy the abstract things together.
Yamato in 02 and after
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So by the time we get to 02, any trace of coldness or detachment from Yamato has completely vanished.
I cannot emphasize this enough: completely vanished. Even in the middle of being a heartthrob for the teenagers in school thanks to his good looks and work with his band, he’s open and lacking in condescension whatsoever, and it’s basically like seeing the openly friendly Yamato from Adventure episode 18 for a whole series. Actually, it already says a lot that he’s in a band, considering it feels like shifting his music activities to a full-on band is there to make a deliberate statement that Yamato is now much better at socializing and working in organized groups now -- it’s a far cry from having to work solo or independently, and it’s significant that “the person who wanted to be able to do everything by himself” is now interested in doing something a bit more cooperative. (And to lend further to the idea he’s sentimental and constantly thinks of others, his band, the TEEN-AGE WOLVES, is all but confirmed to be named in indirect tribute to Gabumon.)
He’s open, conversational, makes a lot of silly faces throughout the series, and basically the only thing he has left that remotely resembles the “pretty boy rival” stereotype is that he’s deep in the aesthetic. But even then, you get the impression that he just does that because he genuinely likes it, not because he’s trying to be “cooler than you” or anything. And it’s easy to see why: Yamato, quite simply, got over himself. He stopped restraining himself all the time in his attempts to become a perfect person, and simply let himself loose to express himself how he wanted, and ultimately became a perfectly sociable and friendly person who’s now even popular at school!
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Yamato’s punch on Taichi in 02 episode 10 is often taken as evidence that Taichi and Yamato embody the “rivals who constantly get in fights but are somehow still friends” trope, but this tends to avoid the actual context of the rest of the scene -- in fact, Daisuke himself rightfully points out that if Yamato had done this out of any actual anger or condescension, this would have been a really cruel thing to do to Taichi when he’s already going through so much. But Yamato’s not doing this out of resentment or condescension, he’s doing this for Taichi’s own sake to help him get out of his stupor, and the important part here is that he immediately holds out a hand to him afterwards. Or, in other words, this isn’t something they’re doing out of conflict, but out of communication, and it’s now at the point where Taichi understands Yamato’s intent, and Yamato knows that what he wanted to do would be conveyed to Taichi, without words.
That is why Taichi and Yamato are finally so close now: they understand each other’s feelings. They’re not competing with each other. They’re not resenting each other. They’re sympathetic and forgiving of each other, and they communicate, verbally or otherwise.
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It’s followed by a scene in 02 episode 11 that’s also often construed as Taichi and Yamato advocating fighting as part of a healthy friendship, but, again, this omits context: they talk about their fighting in past tense! They’re referring as fighting having been part of the things they had to do to understand each other now, when they clearly aren’t in that kind of conflict anymore. The idea they’re espousing is that Daisuke and Takeru need to let out their feelings and have some catharsis if they want to truly understand each other (which is, indeed, how Taichi and Yamato eventually settled their differences) and hopefully get to a position of mutual understanding, instead of the others forcing them to have peace for the sake of peace and not letting their feelings get out on the table. (And, ultimately, Daisuke spends the rest of the episode thinking about Takeru’s position, and none of the 02 kids ever end up in this bad of a brawl for the rest of the series, yet manage to build a friendship in spite of that -- so, yes, the important part was that they had their feelings out in the open and got catharsis, not fighting in itself.)
Yamato also has an interesting role in the 02 drama CDs, including one entirely devoted to him (Letter). Said drama CD has quite a few things to note:
Gabumon says that Yamato being rather silent and not speaking up about what he’s thinking is unusual behavior for him.
As much as Yamato’s managed to do a better job opening up in general, he’s still suffering from extreme self-worth issues, considering himself as worthless if he’s not able to do anything for a girl in the hospital, even though it’s of course completely reasonable he can’t do much. Despite that, he continues to emotionally fixate on her welfare and basically self-flagellate and do a lot of pretty emotionally occupied things in the process.
Speaking of getting emotionally occupied, as much as he ends up snapping a bit at the people on the beach who keep annoying the hell out of him, he eventually feels so bad for the shaved ice seller that he forces himself to eat it just for him. (Even though it’s freezing.)
Yamato’s a really poetic person. Almost sappily so.
On top of that, Armor Evolution to the Unknown gives us an ever-so-slight glimpse of his dating life with Sora -- which, while he hadn’t been super-flagrant about, he also hadn’t been hiding either (he’s clearly willing to engage in a bit of PDA as per 02 episode 43), and, if the admittedly-kind-of-crack drama CD is to believed, he’s actually very emotionally passionate about his relationship to her, and very dedicated! Beyond just the (very sudden) passionate declaration of love to her in the middle of tap dancing, when Sora is found to have been worrying about him being cold lately, he immediately goes out of his way to try and make things right and prove his love...
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Yamato’s initial appearance in Kizuna pretty much defines in a nutshell what his and Taichi’s relationship eventually turned out to be: they’re willing to banter because they’re comfortable with each other, but when it all comes down to it, they appreciate and trust each other deeply. Again, the point is that Yamato and Taichi are emotionally there for each other, considering that (even if he ribs Taichi a bit for it) Yamato’s willing to come all the way down to meet Taichi for late-night beer and talk to him through his emotional troubles.
And, yes, Yamato’s still there to be a concerned minder for Taichi and to make sure he doesn’t get too inconsiderate of what he’s doing -- but there’s no conflict over it, just the two of them balancing their necessary roles as part of the group and keeping each other in check. Again, as was made clear back in Adventure, it’s not about one person being more necessary than the other, it’s them both working together to fulfill their own roles.
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As one of the central characters in the movie, Yamato’s also having an existential crisis of adulthood, and in his case, it’s that he’s playing everything too much by ear but isn’t really sure what he wants to commit to. He’s still enjoying music as a hobby, but it’s apparent he doesn’t want to commit to it as a career (which is, well, quite the common thing for those who have hobbies in middle school) -- and moreover, the novel indicates that it’s not bringing him happiness the way it used to. (The movie goes out of its way to depict Yamato feeling isolated with both a harmonica and a band, referencing that neither Adventure nor 02′s ways are doing it for him anymore.)
Beyond the motorcycle we see Yamato driving a few times in the movie, the official website profile makes it clear that this is one of his major new interests, and it’s presumably why he’s also attending an engineering school -- he can’t decide on a long-term goal, so he’ll at least experiment with the thing he likes. Yamato’s always been someone who thinks with emotions and feelings, so it fits him.
We also learn that he’s surprisingly studious, and is picking up some things that run contrary to his image (the glasses!), including the fact he seems to like school enough that he wants to do more school while he figures out what he wants to do. This is something that happens in real life for a certain kind of person in a career-based existential crisis -- as many people as there are who play very badly with educational structures, there are also people who rely very heavily on the structure of college or grad school basically handing you tasks to do on a plate, and find the job market to be scarier than staying within that bubble. It’s not too unreasonable to imagine that Yamato, who in certain ways has never really been the kind of person to assertively have an idea of “this is what I want to do!” and generally works by immediate feelings instead of long-term goals, would end up becoming that kind of person. As he says, it’s really just him trying to postpone the inevitable decision and get a grace period.
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Since “shutting out one’s own partner (and therefore one’s own inner self)” is key to the cause of partner dissolution, Yamato’s way of it isn’t as direct as Taichi or Sora (who end up actively shutting out their partners in a bid to become an adult), but is most certainly there -- especially when he’s the one who drops a mocking line about the idea of bringing Gabumon to his school. (It’s not about whether it’s actually doable or not; it’s the fact that he laughs and scoffs at how stupid this is.) The fact he treats friends drifting apart as an “inevitable” thing, and eventually is shown very obviously to be keeping Gabumon out of the phone conversations (in stark contrast to the 02 quartet going out of their way to keep them involved on the other end) ultimately boils down to: neglect. Yamato’s coasting by on everything he likes, but it also means he’s just letting everything happen, instead of consciously pursuing things and passionately following things with gusto, the way he used to.
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But we do see Yamato’s single-minded and passionate side come out again -- while Taichi shuts down and ruminates on what to do about his impending loss of Agumon, Yamato’s the one who desperately runs around trying to figure something out, recruiting the 02 quartet into it, losing sleep over it, and eventually having a passionate confrontation with Taichi as the climax approaches. (Note that this, again, is not a real conflict in nearly the same way the two of them would be spitting insults at each other all the way back in Adventure; it’s just the two baring their own feelings, and Yamato quickly accepts Taichi’s answer very easily because he, too, feels the same. Again: they’ve become very good at communicating.)
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Yamato does eventually let Gabumon back into his periphery instead of neglecting him so much, and their final scene together in the movie involves them resuming their old method of tacit communication that they’d once shared together, with Yamato playing the harmonica. It’s a sign of Yamato finally embracing those things in the past that used to make him happy rather than cultivating an uncomfortable relationship with it just because he’d kicked it out of his career prospects, and ultimately coming to terms with what he likes and what makes him happy.
And speaking of career prospects...
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The question of “why did Yamato become an astronaut?” is one that’s infamously weirded out people all over the globe because of how much it clashes with his image, and how much of a kind of “out-there” thing it is that had virtually no precedent whatsoever in Yamato’s prior hobbies. (Although, if you really think about it, space travel isn’t that huge of a hurdle as it sounds for a world like this where Digital Gates exist to bend space-time; you just send a probe with a Digital Gate link up there...) The original meta reason was, simply, that it was a holdover from one of the original ideas for the third Adventure series, in which they would be investigating forces that were obstructing evolution from space. (The original logical progression was that Adventure would have a threat from the Digital World, 02 a threat from the real world, so the theoretical third series would be space...) When you think about which of the original Tokyo Chosen Children would be the most likely to actively pursue this route, it actually is likely to be Yamato, given that Taichi is more of a person who’s an overall leader and coordinator, whereas Yamato, who’s much more up-front aggressive and openly passionate, would be more likely to want to tackle the situation with his own hands.
Kizuna -- or, more specifically, its novel -- offers another (and not mutually exclusive!) explanation:
While studying at graduate school, Yamato came up with a dream he had for his future. He wanted to study cosmology, and become an astronaut. The way there would not be easy. There was a whole mountain of things he’d have to do to get there. But Yamato had a certain ambition in mind. Someday, he was going to go to space with Gabumon. Whenever he thought of that future, Yamato was willing to do anything to get there.
Remembering that Yamato was at an engineering school (presumably originally from the motorcycles connection), it seems that he eventually “ran into” the career option by chance and happenstance, and thought about it and decided he wanted to follow it for the sake of going with Gabumon. It’s a very “romantic” and sappy kind of “out-there” dream, and, actually, that’s the point -- Yamato is a ridiculous romanticist, the kind of person who waxed about barbecue back in Adventure episode 6, and compared his relationship with Takeru to Hikoboshi and Orihime back in 02 episode 17, and spouted a bunch of poetic words at the sea during Letter. And, remember, he’s always been openly shameless and passionate about everything he’s felt and liked, and has never cared what other people would think.
And in the context of Kizuna, where Yamato was slowly losing touch with himself and his passions and eventually lost Gabumon as a result, it’s a very important sign that everything’s on its way back to healing, and that he’ll be able to achieve that future where they meet again.
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morizoras-cave · 4 years
Text
Sleepyhead (Request)
MCU cast x gn!teen!co-star!reader, Benedict Cumberbatch x gn!reader
Genre: Angst, fluff
Request Description: Hiya♥️could i please request a teen x marvel cast were they always find her sleeping and taking naps everywhere around set and they confront her about it and she says something about having to take care of her little siblings because her parents are never arohnd do she gets no sleep. Sorry if its to long.❤❤❤❤❤😍🥰
Warnings: irresponsible parents, negligence, slight insecurity, stress
(A/N): sorry this is kind of centered around benedict, i find these mcu cast x reader ones difficult. also im watching a belarusian war-movie from 1985 about the holocaust. its absolutely terrifying (im very serious, i’d be cautious for trigger warnings). if you’re looking for a horror movie or something, search “come and see movie” on youtube and you’ll find the entire thing there (:
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At first, it had been sweet. A testament to the insomniatic youth, if you will. In every closet, behind every door, and on every soft surface, you could be found in between takes, snoring away.
They all agreed you were probably watching movies or playing games up late at night, computer screen illuminating your face. Or maybe you were chatting with your faraway friends. Either way, it was almost endearing to find you drooling on the couches scattered around the set.
Sweet and endearing at first, yes. But then the feelings about it, the longer it went on, the more your mature and well behaved personality clashed with the idea of you staying up all night, the more the feelings about your frequent naps changed.
To the set workers, the coordinators and overseers of the countless tasks on set, it became an issue. 
“Where’s Y/n? We need them for the next scene!” 
More often than not, several people would be running around set in search of you. And of course you apologized profusely when they found and woke you, but it didn’t matter when you never changed.
But to your coworkers, the talented actors and actresses on set of this huge movie production, it was concerning. Because you were their friend, undoubtedly. 
When you would be pulled out a distant break room, rubbing your dark and drowsy eyes, mumblings would start among them. 
“Are they okay?” 
“They just seem so sensible, I don’t understand why they would stay up like that.” 
And then there was you. Young and unfortunate you. Just trying to do your best, trying to please everyone. It was impossible for anyone to know how much you were juggling with. 
You felt like a bird with a broken wing, still flying but bound to fall to its death. You knew it was too much. You knew it was only a matter of time before you broke. 
Most teens felt stressed with just schoolwork, and then there was you. Battling long set days and huge mounts of schoolwork. And then the family.
Your parents that never seemed to be around. They were both working all the time and often left you and your siblings to yourselves. The problems with that was that you were the eldest, and your siblings were too young to take care of themselves. You were the one left to bring home groceries, to make dinner, to bring them to bed, and to help them with any of their schoolwork or difficulties. 
And it was too much. Simply put it was too much for you. You had managed back when you were just another teen at school, but now you were in a movie, you had a JOB.
Usually you’d go to set and work your ass off, get home and help the kids all day, and then do your schoolwork in the night. You almost never got more than an hour or two of sleep, which was why you settled for small naps during your filming sessions. 
You were so stressed, and you wanted to be angry, because in truth you had every right to. But you were too tired and too busy to be angry. Too focused on your siblings and doing good as an actor. But you would never want to involve your coworkers. You thought it would be embarrassing and unprofessional to involve them. So you carried the weight all alone.
“Wake up! Wake up!” 
Someone was shaking you awake. You blinked your eyes open. A redhead set assistant was yelling in your face, grasping your shoulders. 
She stopped when she saw your eyes turning to slits, before widening to look at her. 
“Am I on?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. The lady scoffed.
“Are you on? Yeah, you’re on,” she spat and swung around, heels clicking on the floor, as she exited the break room briskly.
You were ashamed. Of course you were. You were so unprofessional and problematic. But you knew you had no other time to sleep, so this was your only option. The thought made you want to cry. 
Instead, you stood up and walked to where the scene would be filmed, through several hallways and technical rooms, before you arrived to the large set. 
Benedict, Robert, Tom (Holland), Chris (Pratt), Pom, and Dave were all gathered and ready to film. Your face was on fire, so you avoided their gazes, and just got into position to film the next scene. 
Benedict and Robert exchanged glances as you yawned, but before they could talk to you (as it seemed everyone was getting fed up with your constant sleepiness) the director yelled “action”, and the acting resumed. 
You all did the scene and you, surprisingly, did okay for having woken up about five minutes earlier. You continued doing several scenes for the movie all together, going through about three full scenes.
When the director was satisfied, everyone started scattering. You, rubbing your tired eyes, was already beelining for the break room, hoping to see an empty couch for you to crash.
However, before you could sneak off to catch some z’s, you felt a firm hand on your shoulder. You blinked, turning around and gazing at the person who had grabbed your shoulder. It was Benedict, Robert, Tom and Chris not fat behind him. He had a stern look on his face. 
“Y/n, we need to talk.”
“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” your tone was casual, or perhaps too exhausted to express any real emotion, but inside you felt your stomach churn with anxiety. 
“Why are you always sleeping?” Robert chimed in. 
“Yeah, because if you’re up watching Youtube or whatever, you probably shouldn’t!” Tom said.
“Not that we’re assuming that that’s what you’re doing! It’s just- You know..,” Chris explained, voice full of panic.
You smiled softly. You recognized that they were coming from a place of worry. Then, your heart sunk slightly. You could cry. Again. Over the thought of your lack of time and your endless responsibilities. 
“It’s nothing serious, it’s just..” you trailed off, trying to figure out how you could make it sound less sad. Things always sounded worse when spoken out loud, you found. “I have two siblings, and my parents are never around, so I’m kind of the person taking care of them.” 
Your coworkers in front of you fell silent. You could see it on their faces. They didn’t like it. 
“You?” Robert said finally, and you just nodded. 
“So, you’re doing a movie, doing school, and taking care of your siblings at the same time?” Benedict repeated slowly, and once again you just nodded. There was nothing more to say. 
“Why aren’t your parents there?” Chris asked in his serious-unserious voice. 
“They’re working a lot,” you mumbled, disliking the collective attention on you. The thought of the couch made you yearn for some rest. You could tell that there were many things they wanted to do in that moment. They wanted to fix it all. 
“Can’t you tell them you don’t have time?” 
“I’ve tried that already. They say they don’t have a choice,” to this, both Robert and Benedict scoffed and shook their heads. You just watched with heavy eyes. 
“Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen,” Benedict said quietly, eyes boring into yours, “I’m going to call a nanny to look after your siblings for a couple of days, don’t worry I’ll pay. You’re going to back to the hotel and sleep for at least 10 hours. When you’ve done that, and only when you’ve done that, will we talk about how we’ll move forward with your parents.” 
You were quiet. You couldn’t stand up to your parents like Benedict wanted you to. You just couldn’t. They were busy and that was understandable. 
Although, you had to admit, the thought of sleeping for 10 hours was enticing. Heck, worst case scenario, you could settle for 5! Your tiredness was like heavy cuffs and chains on your body, and Benedict stood with the shining, golden key right in front of you. 
“Benedict, I- I can’t do that to my parents-”
“No, your parents can’t do this to you! This is absolutely outrageous!” He was frustrated you could tell. Robert seemed upset too, while Tom and Chris stepped back and let the adults handle it. Though, they seemed sad for you. 
You went quiet. 
“I just-” 
“I don’t want to hear another word about how they’re somehow excused for their behavior. This is negligence, Y/n! This is too much for you and you know it! You’re exhausted and it’s so painful to see, so please. Just take me up on this.”
You sighed.
“Alright, then.” you said, body finally giving in to the attractive offer. Benedict’s face carried the ghost of a satisfied smile, before going back to the stone cold determination. 
You drove to the hotel in Robert’s car and they booked you an extra room, knowing that your siblings occupied the other one. As soon as you could fall back on the bed, you were gone, body screaming for rest. 
You woke up 14 hours later, feeling happier, brighter and well-rested. That feeling had been forgotten by you, but it was alright, you decided. Every inch of you blossomed with energy now. 
As promised, Benedict had ordered a nanny for your siblings (the nanny was a lovely human being, and simply amazing with kids). Benedict, Robert, Chris and Tom has split the bill. 
You called him when you woke up, and he dragged you to a restaurant, where the two of you had a long, long talk about why what your parents were doing was serious and unacceptable. He could tell he needed to explain it to you, because you, like many children, were ready to defend your parents’ at all costs. 
Needless to say, after Benedict’s advice you didn’t have to go through that kind of thing again. You settled it with your parents (as well as your siblings), and after that you were so grateful that Benedict helped you out of that responsibility, because it wasn’t yours to have. 
Benedict was just happy to help, the memory of seeing you sleep everywhere, now less endearing and simply painful. He didn’t like thinking about it, and so he tried not to, but rather focused on your laughter and bright smile. In truth, that’s the only thing that really mattered. 
___________________________
Tag List:
@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @eviemarvel @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun
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jaalismyhusband · 3 years
Text
Took you long enough
Title: Took you long enough
Pairings: Sebastian Stan x f!reader
Warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, age gap, corruption kink if you squint
Wordcount: 2.9k
Masterlist
To say that these past few months have been stressful is an understatement. You were an aspiring actress and somehow landed a pretty big role in a movie. It already had some famous names attached to it and you were quite intimidated to star along the other actors. But nonetheless, you put on your big girl pants and took the opportunity. Caught in a loop of constant stress, memorizing the lines, filming the scenes, promoting the movie, you had only so much time to really appreciate what was going on. It was only after the first month of filming you realized what the hell was actually happening.
Your co-star Sebastian Stan has helped you a lot with handling everything. You remember, when you found out he was starring in the movie as well, you almost passed out. Getting to know him was such a surreal experience. Although you had a big crush on him, you stayed respectful towards him and you two became rather close friends.
To be honest, the more you got to know him, the more you liked him. And this time it wasn’t just a platonic crush. You tried to fight it, but your struggles were fruitless. You had it bad for your best friend. Acting on your feelings was not an option however. It was no secret that no woman occupied his bedroom for more than one night. You knew it was bad news to fall for him, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You liked how he didn’t pretend, but actually listened to you. How he seemed to remember even the little details you mentioned to him. How protective he was of you from the day you met, especially while defending you when people called you “the new kid” - the nickname stuck with you during the whole period of filming, much to your dislike. You knew they meant well when they called you that nickname, trying to make you feel like a part of the group. You were much younger than most of the cast, but you didn’t think of yourself as a child anymore. It seemed impossible to convince others of that, though.
Only a few people respected you enough not to use that nickname - one of them being Sebastian. At times you thought he didn’t see you as a kid with the way he treated you and you were naïve enough to get your hopes up. That was a mistake, you thought, as you watched the interview Sebastian had done earlier that day. He was asked about the cast members. You anxiously waited for your name to be mentioned, palms sweating as you guessed what he would say about you.
“What about Y/N? You seem close, not to mention how often you are spotted together.” The interviewer raised his brow, as he waited for an answer.
Sebastian smiled widely as he answered: “Yeah, we are really close. She’s like a little sister I never had, you know?”
Your heart clenched painfully, as you stopped the video. You just had to accept that it would never work. How could you be so stupid to think he’d actually like you, when he had so many women at his feet, begging to be noticed by him. You were thankful you were his friend - that had to be enough. It wasn’t, though. No matter what you told yourself, you always ended up thinking about him in inappropriate ways.
The door on your trailer opened and revealed happy Sebastian with take out.
“Hey, I thought to bring you some food, since it’s going to be a long day today.” He smiled at you as he sat down next to you on the couch, handing you your food.
“Thanks.” You smiled back. You didn’t waste time and dug in, only now realizing how hungry you were. He seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.
Sebastian broke the comfortable silence: “Hey, so, I want to ask you for advice.” Did he seem nervous? No, you thought as you hinted him to ask away.
“There’s this woman, that I like. I shouldn’t, but something about her is so intriguing, I can’t help it. And I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.
“I can’t believe you are asking me for an advice on how to pick up women. You getting rusty, old man?” You joked, as his face fell in disappointment.
“I’m serious, Y/N. I think I’m ready to go all the way with her. But she’s not really – uhm, how to put it – available. That’s why I’m so nervous about it,” he sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Right, sorry. But still, I think you’re perfectly fine. Just ask her out. She’d be stupid to reject you,” you spoke sincerely.
“Thanks, I’ll go for it then.”
The rest of the lunch was enjoyed in silence.
Few days have passed and your mood seem to only decrease as the time went on. You secretly hoped Sebastian was talking about you and that he would ask you out later. But this was your life, not a romcom. Your hopes were crushed, when you asked Sebastian about it and he confirmed what seemed like your worst nightmare.
“She said yes!” he exclaimed excitedly and you gave him a hug to hide the mixture of unpleasant emotions plastered on your face.
“I’m so happy for you,” and you were, truly. As long as he was happy, you would be too. But why did it hurt so much anyway?
Ever since then, you just weren’t your ever smiling self. What you were was a millennial and you did what millennials knew best – repressed your emotions. Stuffed them deep inside your soul where nobody could acknowledge them, not even you.
The days seemed repetitive. You were exhausted from putting up a show not only when you were filming, but now also when you were in a company of your friends. Luckily, there was only one scene to film and then a much needed vacation awaited.
“CUT!” screamed the director. “What the hell Y/N?! This is the seventh take and you still can’t get it right.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get it this time, I swear,” you apologized and immediately took your spot, wanting nothing more, than to finish this scene, go home and curl up in bed while watching your favourite show.
Today was just one of those days, when it seemed like the whole universe conspired against you. First, your alarm didn’t go off, which resulted in being late on your last day. Your hands were shaking by the time you got to the set and you managed to knock over the cup of coffee, just barely missing your costume. Not to mention how anxious you were, since you were purposely avoiding Sebastian. You only missed him more and yet, you couldn’t stand being in his presence. It hurt not being able to look into his eyes. This all held you back from giving a flawless performance in front of the camera, which only frustrated you even more.
“We believe in you, kid. Breathe, focus. Action!” You were truly thankful for the support, as you finally got the scene right.
“And cut! We got it! Ok, that’s it, guys. It’s been pleasure to work with you all. As you may have heard, there will be an afterparty, if you will, tonight. Please, do come! Till then have a great day everyone!” Finished the director and people started to clap. There has been a heavy boulder of a rock lifted from your shoulders as you realized this was it. You quickly said your goodbyes to everyone, eager to go home and hide.
“Y/N! Wait!” you were on your way out when you heard your name being called. You sighed and put on a smile, before you faced Sebastian.
“Hi, I’ve tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up. You’ve been distant lately. Have you been avoiding me?” He accused.
“No! No, I uh… My phone has been malfunctioning these days, I’m getting it repaired soon,” you weren’t proud of yourself for lying to him, but you weren’t ready to tell him the truth just yet.
“Are you coming to the afterparty?” It was obvious he didn’t buy your white lie, but decided not to ponder on it.
“Oh, I don’t think I am. I’ve had an extraordinarily shitty day and I don’t wanna be a party pooper.” You immediately gave him a list of excuses.
“Yeah, yeah, quit it, queen. I’ll pick you up at 7.” He left you no space to argue and just walked away. You shook your head in disbelief and made your way home.
“Finally,” you exhaled a big breath once you collapsed on your bed. Sleep was an alluring way how to avoid your problems. So, you did the reasonable thing and took a nap.
You woke up right as the sun was setting. You still hadn’t decided if you were going to go to that stupid get together or not. You knew it would be a nice change of pace, to let go for one night. Afterall, it was a celebration of the hard work the cast had done. On the other hand, Sebastian would be there. And now that you thought about it, he would probably bring that woman, he asked out earlier. You weren’t ready to see Sebastian all lovey dovey with someone else, god no.
But this was also the chance to see him for the last time. You weren’t sure if he would keep hanging out with you after the movie was done. Tears stung in your eyes as you realized that he would probably cut ties with you. Sure, you would call each other once a week, then once a month, then only on holidays and then he would eventually stop calling you whatsoever. You were going to lose him. You were so sure of it. The tears were now streaming freely down your cheeks as you hyperventilated. All of those emotions that were supposed to stay stored away came at you at once, demanding to be experienced, to be felt.
You couldn’t calm down and there was only one person who was able to soothe you. Your best friend from high school. Due to your career you two weren’t hanging out as often as you’d like, but your bond hadn’t suffered because of that. You dialled her number after you blew your nose, so you were able to somewhat form words.
“Hi, Y/N! Oh my god, it’s been so long since we’ve actually talked!” You sobbed even harder when you heard her enthusiastic voice.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” she pleaded, as you tried to calm yourself enough to talk.
“Today has just been such a shitshow,” you cried out. You told her all about your day, but the topic soon enough changed to the real reason why you were crying – Sebastian.
“You know what’s the worst thing? I love him. So fucking much. And I know he doesn’t feel the same. He sees me as his little sister. SISTER. No way he would be attracted to someone he considers a sibling. Oh, and have I mentioned that now he’s suddenly had a change of heart and stopped sleeping with random women because he mEt SoMEoNe sPeCiaL?” you mocked him, “I just can’t. I know that I did this to myself and it’s not his fault, but fuck! I can’t even tell him how I feel, because there is only one scenario to this – him ending our friendship because of it. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose him completely.” You kept on rambling as your supportive friend listened, offering you her kind words here and there.
Soon after she apologized profusely, as she explained her break was over and she had to get back to work. You assured her it was okay and that you were thankful she found some time to listen to you pour you broken heart out through the phone. She ended the call by reminding you that she loved you and hung up.
You sighed and blew your nose again. You stood up from your bed, taking the used tissues with you.
“Fuck.” You stopped dead in your tracks, feeling like a deer in front of a headlights. There stood a very shocked Sebastian.
“How did you get here?”
“I came to pick you up, remember? Front door was unlocked, so I let myself in. You didn’t respond when I called your name. I looked for you and found you here, crying,” his voice cracked at his last words: “I have never seen you cry before.” He seemed truly sad, but you were too frightened to notice.
“How much of it did you hear?”
“Everything.” He exhaled and you struggled to meet his gaze. You huffed, storming out of your bedroom, leaving him behind. You just wanted to disappear right on the spot and avoid this confrontation.
You almost ran to the kitchen, throwing the tissues to the bin. You hoped this was all just a bad dream and that in fact Sebastian wasn’t here, but all that convincing was futile once you turned around and saw him sitting in your kitchen. There was a tense silence, as none of you knew what to say next. The air grew heavy, suffocating you.
“So,” Sebastian cleared his throat, “you like me?” To which you only nodded, as you leaned on the counter.
“Why?” he asked. You laughed at that, the sound so alien to you because of all the crying.
“You were nice to me from the first day. You gave me a chance to get to know you. Once we started hanging out I just, I don’t know. I like how you talked to me, like I wasn’t just the new kid. You actually listened to what I had to say. You made me feel special, Seb. Not to mention, you look like a fucking Greek god,” he chuckled at that.
“Weren’t you discouraged by my age? Or the fact that ‘I slept with random women’?” he asked, using your words against you.
“Well, I can’t blame you for that. And I can’t blame those women either. And your age never bothered me. In fact, it’s just another thing about you that turns me on.” You realized too late what you were about to say and just said it. Your eyes widened and your face heated up, as you tried to shrink your existence and hide from Sebastian’s piercing gaze.
“I turn you on?” Sebastian asked, amused by how embarrassed you were. He stood up and walked up to you. You shied away, but he trapped you in between his arms against the counter, so you wouldn’t run.
“I’d like your advice on something,” he started as he looked you straight in the eyes, “There’s this girl I’ve befriended. She’s really young and innocent, like an angel. I think I liked her right from the start, but I knew I wasn’t good for her. And yet, I can’t help but be attracted to her. I’ve tried to forget, but all those meaningless nights and faceless women couldn’t fill the void. Couldn’t erase the feelings she brought up in me every time I thought of her, saw her, touched her. I think about her almost every night. About how I’d hold her, kiss her, make her moan my name.” You squirmed under his gaze, but he paid no mind as he continued his monologue: “I fantasize about deflowering her, turning her into a mess, while I transform her into my greedy whore. The image makes me painfully hard. And now, I have a chance to make her mine. What do you say, doll? Should I go for it?” You gasped at his confession and only weakly nodded.
His lips met yours in a desperate kiss. It was all tongue and teeth. He wasn’t gentle with you by any means, not that you wanted him to be. His hands pulled you impossibly close, as they squeezed your ass, making you moan into the kiss. You both had to stop and take a breath, your foreheads connecting as you panted.
“I made her up, you know,” spoke Sebastian softly.
“What?”
“The woman. She doesn’t exist. It was you who I’ve been talking about, but then I chickened out.”
“Why?” you were curious and anxious at the same time to hear his answer.
“You called me an old man! I thought you would be creeped out!” he got defensive.
“That was a joke, Seb,” you laughed, “Why did you tell me that she accepted?”
He awkwardly scratched his neck, as he mumbled: “I didn’t want to disappoint you, that your advice hadn’t worked.” You just burst out laughing at that. Sebastian didn’t like that, as he faked getting offended and hurt, which only caused to make you cry-laugh. You finally calmed down, after a while, only now seeing how Sebastian was watching you the whole time. He gently wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, as he held your face.
“I love you, Seb,” it felt good to finally say it out loud. You were absolutely lovestruck and at this point you didn’t care.
“Took you long enough,” you rolled your eyes at him, as he smirked.
“I love you too, doll.”
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onlyfreds · 3 years
Text
The Secret | F.W.
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Title: The Secret (Modern Au!)
Requested: Yes/No
Summary: Y/N has a secret that Fred is yet to find out.
I cheered as Gryffindor scored another goal giving them a 50-point lead from Slytherin.
My boyfriend, Fred, blew me a kiss from across the way as he hit another bludger towards the Slytherin keeper.
“Harry Potter catches the snitch and Gryffindor wins!” Lee announced.
All of the Gryffindors cheered as I ran down from the stands and into Fred’s arms as she spun me around and kissed me.
“Congratulations handsome.” I said, putting my arms around his neck.
He smiled as he placed his hands on my waist, “I wouldn’t have done any of it without my gorgeous cheerleader in the stands.” He said with a small wink.
I took a quick glance at my watch, eyes widening when I realized how late I already was.
I kissed Fred again before taking off to the Gryffindor common room.
“Where are you going?” He called after me.
I looked back for a moment, “I just need to take care of something important. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for the party.” I said as I ran to my destination.
I changed into some muggle clothes as I reached for the floo powder in my bag. I threw it into the fire, “The Studio” I said before stepping in and being taken to the studio.
“Y/N!” My friend and co-actor, Louis, came running towards me as I stepped out of the fire, brushing the ash and excess powder on my clothes.
“Do even know what time it is?” He asked, “Shooting started 20 minutes ago!”
I gave him a smile, “Nice to see you too Louis! I’m sorry I was late, the game lasted longer than I expected and it would have been suspicious if I left in the middle of it.”
Louis started to pull me towards the hair and makeup room, “Well, we have to make up for lost time then.”
--
(Fred’s POV)
“I just need to take care of something important. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for the party.” Y/N said as she took off to who knows where.
“Hey what’s wrong with you?” George asked as he came over to the place where I was standing, “We won! You should be celebrating.”
“Something’s not right.” I said, “Y/N has been acting weird.”
“How weird?” My twin asked.
“She took a look at her watch then she started to run off. Something about having to take care of something important.” I answered.
Oliver suddenly appeared behind us, “Don’t you think she’s seeing someone else?” He suddenly said.
“What?! No! She would never do that.” I defended.
“You know, instead of just standing here and debating on what she’s doing, why don’t we follow her.” George suggested.
“That’s actually not a bad idea.” I said.
Oliver nodded, “Then let’s go before we lose her.”
We first went to the common room. I moment we entered, we saw her running down the stairs, wearing muggle clothes. We hid from her line of vision as she took some floo powder from her bag.
“The Studio.” She promptly said as she stepped into the fire and got whisked away.
“Hurry!” Oliver hissed, “Before the fire dies.”
The three of us jumped into the fire, “The Studio.” I said, heading to where ever she was going.
We stumbled out of the fireplace as we saw her following a boy.
“I knew it!” Oliver said.
“Shut up! You’re going to get us caught.” George said, smacking Oliver’s arm.
“Besides, we don’t know if she’s really with the guy.” I tried to reason as we followed them.
Y/N went inside a room that had a sign that says, “Hair and Makeup Room” while the boy took off into the other direction.
After a few minutes, she went out of the room. In a red dress, her hair was cascading over her shoulders and she was sporting a small amount of makeup.
“Time to shoot scene 48.” Somebody announced from the overhead speakers, “Y/N where are you?”
“I’m coming!” She shouted as she ran towards the set.
The three of us exchanged a confused look as we followed her.
We watched as she stood in front of the camera with the boy she was earlier and they started.
The realization struck me like lightning, “She’s an actress.” I said.
“What’s an actress?” Oliver asked.
“They are famous people.” George said before looking at me, “You never told me you were dating an actress!”
I shook my head, “I never knew she was one.”
“Action!” The director said as they started.
(Reader’s POV)
We were about to film that last scene for the movie when Louis tapped me on the shoulder, “Isn’t that your boyfriend?” He asked as he pointed to the corner, where it was obvious that Fred, George, and Oliver were hiding.
I nodded, “Yeah, what are they doing here.” I muttered.
I looked at Louis, “I’ll be back in a moment. I’ll just go see what they’re up to.”
As I got nearer to them, I could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Now, we know the truth we can go now.” Oliver said.
“Yeah, we have to go before we get caught.” George said.
“Do we really have to go. I mean, I kinda like seeing her acting.” Fred asked.
I crossed my arms over my chest, “Well, that depends. Why are you three here in the first place?” I suddenly asked, making them jump as I made my presence known.
They all turned around slowly.
“Hey Y/N!” George tried to say casually, as Fred and Oliver were already frozen in fear.
“Okay,” Oliver said, “In my defense, it was George’s idea.” He explained.
George glared at the boy, “You were the one who got the idea that led to that idea.”
The two of them started to argue, before Fred put up his hand, signaling for them to be quiet. He bowed his head down, looking at me like a puppy who was guilty of doing something wrong.
“I’m sorry.” Was the first words he uttered, “You were acting so weird lately and I was just so worried.” He glanced at his twin and the Quidditch captain, “I take the full blame, they wouldn’t have come up with the ideas if it weren’t for me. If you should be mad at anyone, it should be me.”
I was never mad, I only wanted to know what they were doing here. But they thought otherwise. “Did you think I was cheating on you?” I asked, keeping up the act.
My boyfriend opened his mouth to say something, but Oliver interrupted him, “He didn’t. I was the one who thought that you were cheating on him. But he defended you, Fred said that you were never capable of doing that. And I’m sorry for ever thinking that you could that.” He reasoned.
That’s when I couldn’t take it anymore and started laughing, making the three of them confused.
“You aren’t mad at us?” George asked quietly.
I shook my head, still laughing.
Louis suddenly appeared by my side, “Once an actress, always an actress.”
I smacked his arm, “Oh shut it! Don’t pretend like you didn’t fall for it too!”
I then turned to my friends, “I wasn’t mad at you. I just wanted to know why you were here then you guys suddenly started apologizing.”
Fred breathed out a sigh of relief, “Thank goodness!” He said with his handsome smile, “I thought I was in for it.”
I giggled as he pulled me closer to him, “You aren’t mad at me?” I asked quietly.
He gave me a confused look, “What are you talking about?”
I shrugged, “I mean, I hid being an actress from you. Aren’t you mad at me?”
He placed a kiss on my forehead, “No at all sweetheart. You never hold me back from the things I want to do. So, I won’t hold you back.”
Louis and I exchanged a look, Fred would know the whole truth sooner or later.
The director called us back to film the final scene. Fred giving me a kiss of good luck as He, George and Oliver went to find a comfortable place to watch.
“Action!” The director yelled as Louis and recited our final lines.
“Do you really have to go?” Louis asked.
I nodded, shouldering the backpack I was holding, “I do. But I have a feeling that we will cross paths again soon.”
He tilted his head to one side, “When is that soon?”
I shrugged, “Hopefully in the near future.” I answered as I gave him a small salute, “Take care of yourself okay? Until I get the chance to save your sorry arse again.”
Louis rolled his eyes, “Yeah right.”
I gave him a small smile as I walked away from the scene, glancing at the camera and saying, “Until next time.”
“Cut! And that’s a wrap!” The director announced, all of us applauding as Fred scooped me into his arms.
“It has been a pleasure working with all of you, especially Y/N L/N who is such a phenomenal actress in, unfortunately, the last film of her career.” The director continued, everyone, even Louis started bursting into tears.
All of my cast mates pulled me into a hug, “Hey! Don’t cry.” I said, “You guys are going to make me cry as well.”
Louis chuckled as he pulled me into a hug, “It’s just that we’ll miss you so much.”
I blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay, “We’ll still keep in touch okay. Don’t worry.”
I turned and saw that even our director was crying, “Even you are crying?” I joked as he hugged me.
“Yeah.” He said, “It’s just so emotional, especially since I directed your first film and now, I’m directing your last one.”
I rubbed his back comfortingly, “Don’t worry, I’ll always keep in touch with you guys.”
“What’s going on?” Fred asked.
Louis wiped the tears from his eyes, “I’m Louis Partridge.” He introduced himself to Fred, “I’m Y/N’s castmate. You must be her boyfriend?”
Fred nodded, “Yeah. If you don’t mind me asking, do you guys always get this emotional when you finish a film?”
Louis shook his head, giving a small laugh. “Nah. This is just emotional because this is Y/N’s last movie. After this she won’t get any more films.”
Fred furrowed his eyebrows, “Why?”
The boy just gave him a small smile, “She quit.”
I walked over to the pair and jokingly nudged my co-star’s shoulder, “Spilling all my secrets now, Partridge eh?”
“Why did you quit?” Fred asked pulling me closer to him.
I smiled, “My priorities have changed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I laced my hand in his, “I would give you the whole world if I could Freddie. But we both know that the world is not mine to give. So, the least I could do is to give you my world, because you deserve it all.”
He gave me a hug, kissing me gently but lovingly, “What did I do to deserve you?”.
𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
@lumosandnoxwriting @whizboingies @wand3ringr0s3 @famdomhideout​
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sage-nebula · 3 years
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I started typing up a post on my opinions of the characters in Neo TWEWY, but when I got to Neku's segment it got so long that I realized it needed to be its own post. So if you want me to elaborate on how I feel they did my favorite boy dirty, head below the cut.
First of all, to get it out of the way: his English voice is absolutely atrocious. Given that he has the same voice actor here as he did in the original, I really don’t know what went wrong. Was Mr Corti mentally checked out and only doing this for the paycheck? Was the voice director high on cough syrup on the days Corti was in the office? Who the heck knows, but it’s bad. Not only is Neku’s voice way too deep (he was fifteen in the first game, he’d already been through puberty, his voice shouldn’t have broken again, it’s not like Beat’s did!), but there was pretty much 0 acting to be found. The closest we got to an actual performance is when Neku yelled Beat’s name a couple times during the chaos that went down at the end of Week 3. That was it. Otherwise, it sounded like Corti was just reading his lines with zero surrounding context and zero effort into actually acting them rather than just reading them while either half asleep or bored out of his skull. It’s supremely disappointing and an honest disrespect to the character. Again, I don’t know if this was because of the voice direction or what, but whatever it was, I hated hearing Neku actually talk and that kills me considering he was my favorite of the main cast in the original game.
Which brings me to the bigger issue, which is his characterization. Neo!Neku has zero personality. I’ve said this on multiple posts, and I’ll say it again. He has no personality. It’s gone. I think that when Coco shot him at the end of “A New Day” she not only killed his physical body, but also any semblance of personality he once had, and honestly it kills me because, again, he was my favorite of the original cast.
To elaborate:
Over the course of the original game, Neku goes from a closed off, snarky, trauma-ridden jerkass to a more open, snarky, loyal friend and defender of those who need it. By the end of Week 3 Neku is open to meeting new people (though he’s not completely open either; as he tells Joshua in his ending monologue, it’s still hard for him, but he’s trying), he’s more patient with those around him, he sees more value in the people and the world around him and he’s learning to open himself up and actually enjoy the moment, rather than just saying he does. Moreover, whereas he was fully ready to kill in order to escape the Game at the start (thank god for Hanekoma stepping in), by the end he breaks down crying over . . . well, everything, but in that exact moment it was because Joshua was hinging Neku’s own life on Neku’s ability to pull the trigger on Joshua, and he couldn’t. Neku underwent remarkable change over the course of the original game and I would never, not even once, say that I’d want Neku in Neo to be characterized how he was at the start of (or even in the middle of) the original game.
However.
There is no semblance of Neku, period, in the character that we get in Neo. The closest that we get to any kind of snarky humor from him is when he asks Beat if Beat died again, and that’s why he’s in the UG. Despite being fiercely loyal to his friends (and despite knowing that Minamimoto is a shady bitch out for himself first and foremost), he says with a smile that Minamimoto has ~changed~ or is ~trying to~ despite having absolutely no evidence of that whatsoever, and walking in on Minamimoto literally trying to murder Beat. He’s BFFs with Coco despite the fact that Coco killed him, purely because her motivations were good, and he chastises Beat for not trusting her even though Beat witnessed that murder and has had to live with it for the past three years. Many of his voice clips don’t sound like him (“well done,” for example, just sounds too proper for him, it doesn’t sound like the way he talks; “nice one” or “good job” would be more appropriate), he’s perfectly fine and not awkward at all with everyone calling him a legend, he seems to have no issue whatsoever with the fact that he’s been trapped in Shinjuku’s UG (or in-between the UG and the RG) for the past three years, and overall it feels a whole lot less like Neku-as-a-character and more like Neku-as-an-exposition-mentor. Like he wasn’t here to be himself, he was here because a.) it was expected because this was the sequel, and b.) he’s the closest to Hanekoma they could get, even though he’s not acting like Hanekoma either.
Here’s the thing.
Yes, it’s expected that Neku would have matured even more by the time this game rolls around than he had by the end of Week 3. It’s expected that, much like Beat, Neku has grown up and changed as a result of that maturation as well. However . . .
1.) Beat is still noticeably Beat despite his maturation, and
2.) Neku didn’t get to grow up in the same way that Beat did, by virtue of being dead and stuck in hell for the past three years.
Neku’s life for the past four years has basically been a rollercoaster of trauma. First, his friend dies on his way to meet Neku, which Neku blames himself for (and I’m pretty sure this takes place about a year before the original game, though I could be wrong on that). Then, while he’s still struggling with processing his grief, he’s murdered by Joshua and put into the Reapers’ Game. He has to go through three extremely difficult weeks with his life on the line, during which he learns to process his previous trauma in a healthier way while getting a bunch of fresh new trauma dropped on his plate. He escapes that Game with his new friends, but then less than a year later he is murdered again, and this time he’s locked in a hellspace where Shinjuku used to be, and not only that, but he is trapped there with his murderer, who is not sorry at all that she killed him and instead believes that it was the right thing to do despite the fact that Shinjuku has already undergone the Inversion and Neku is just stuck there now with the thoughts of the nonexistent swirling through his head. Presumably his powers, which were already incredibly powerful, grow exponentially during this time as a result of the space he’s in, but that’s not really the point. The point is, Neku went through a trauma conga line with no time to really breathe or process any of it, and while I can believe that he came to trust Coco enough so that they could both get out of Shinjuku, I can’t believe that going through all that trauma without any chance to live a normal, happy life would produce a smiling mentor figure who’s just here to blithely exposit without any real emotion, or any of his trademark snarky humor. It’s not realistic maturation, especially because maturation isn’t supposed to stamp out aspects of your personality that make you, you. Just as Beat is able to still recognizably be Beat while also being more mature, Neku should have been recognizably Neku, and he isn’t. If you were handed the script with all the names blacked out, you would never be able to tell his lines were his. And honestly, that absolutely crushes me, especially since I was so excited for him to come back since I love him so incredibly much.
Honestly, I’m tempted to rewrite that last portion of the game so that Neku acts more like himself—so that we can actually hear him instead of this bland exposition fairy they put in his place. But whether I do that or not, just know that I found Neku to be incredibly disappointing, and I think he deserved better on just about every front. The only really good thing about him was his design, and the fact that he still did the fingers-to-temples gesture when he reached out to the minds of Shibuya during the end segment. (I was literally chanting, “do the thing, do the thing!” so I was very happy when he did, in fact, do the thing.) And considering how important he is as a character in this series, that was just . . . so incredibly disappointing.
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gaemkyuu · 3 years
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So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.
Warnings: death of a loved one and grief. There is one mention to drinking a bottle of wine but all characters in the story are above the age of 21. A/N: this is based off a post @ah2113​ made a little while ago! I liked the idea and decided to write a cute fluffy piece on it! Hope you like it! “Reader and Charlie are best friends and they met on JATP. Charlie and the reader are in love with each other but don’t know. The readers grandma passes away and she calls Charlie, who is in a completely different state/country, in tears about the situation. Charlie feels horrible and completely drops everything he’s doing and immediately flies out to the reader and surprises them. He is with them throughout the whole viewing and funeral and meets her entire family. Everybody mistakens him for the readers boyfriend because of how much he is doing to help and tells the reader that he is clearly in love with them.”  Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life. 
Masterlist *now taking requests ;)
So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Charlie was in the middle of an interview when his phone started vibrating. Normally he kept it on airplane mode, but today he forgot. He quickly reached for his phone and saw her name pop up on the screen, losing focus for a brief moment on the interview. 
“Pardon me? Could you repeat the question?” Charlie was trying so hard to focus on the interview at hand but knowing he was on the last question, made it all the more difficult to focus when he knew she was calling.
“Charlie, the fans want to know. Are you single?” he chuckled but since he was distracted, he didn’t give a really good answer.
“Kinda” he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth and the fact that he started blushing made the situation worse! Thankfully the interviewer didn’t press any further into the matter and made a casual joke about it. They quickly wrapped the interview knowing that Charlie had another one scheduled right afterwards, but he had a few minutes to make up a phone call.
Amelie had worked on set for season one of Julie as a hair and make up artist and shocked many at how talented she was for her age. She got along well with the cast and would often hang out with them on their days off, but for some reason she gravitated the most to Charlie. Everyone often teased them about the chemistry they had and how they would make a great couple but both of them would laugh at the comments and deny any feelings towards one another. They were simply nothing more but really good friends.
Or so they thought.
Amelie was head over heels for the brunette and Charlie for her. She loved his smile and enthusiasm for life. She admired his work ethic and passion for what he did. She would squash every thought about being with Charlie because he was too good for her. She liked the weirdest things and entertained people with the most random facts. She could spend hours in an art and fashion museum, when most people could only spend so much time. Amelie saw herself as weird and knew that Charlie saw her as nothing more than a friend.
The opposite was true. Charlie loved her quirkiness and nerdiness around the strangest things. He loved that she was always so modest and humble, even though she had all the right to brag at how amazing she was at her talents. He loved how she was always up for trying something new and that she had an eye for fashion, design and art, but he knew she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. That still didn’t stop Charlie from always being there for her.
“Charlie?” her voice came out in a broken and quiet whisper. He could tell that she was crying and he instantly felt his stomach drop. A few sniffles came from the other line before the voice spoke again. “She’s gone Charlie... Grandmaman is gone...” he could hear her voice start to shake again.
“Say the word Amelie and I am there” Charlie glanced at his watch,8:55pm. He had five more minutes until the next interview with the pop culture podcast from Sydney. This meant that it was 5:00am in London, where Amelie was working on Netflix’s newest series. “Ams?”
“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just didn’t know who else to talk to...” she sniffled quietly not sure what else to say.
“What time are you leaving to get to set?” 8:57pm, he was running out of time. He saw the notification that the next interviewer had signed on to their zoom meeting.
“I gotta be on set at 7:00am so the van will be here to pick me up at 6:30am. It’s my last day on set, so there’s that” she sniffled again, feeling herself calm down with Charlie on the other line. She desperately needed him, but she couldn’t ask him that. He was doing press for season 2 of Julie and the Phantoms and he needed to be available, not off consoling his friend who was madly in love with him. 
“Amelie, listen, I have to jump onto the next interview, but try to get a little more sleep and drink some water. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. When are you flying back?” Charlie felt awful having to hang up on her when he knew she needed him.
“I’ll be on the next flight out to Vancouver. Hopefully there’s a flight this evening back to Canada. My mom’s really upset and my siblings are rushing to get home for her” Amelie took a deep breath and listened to the frustrated sigh on the other end. He was probably annoyed that she called him. “Thank you for picking up Char”
“Anything for you Ams... I’m really sorry but I have to go now... If you’re busy when I call, can you let me know when you’re at the airport?” Amelie agreed and hung up the phone, flopping on the bed and a silent stream of tears falling from her eyes again. Meanwhile, Charlie sat in his LA bedroom, head in hands frustrated that he couldn’t be there for her.
***
Amelie watched out the window as the plane landed in Vancouver. She felt an anxiousness to get off the plane and be with her mom, but she knew she had to go through security and baggage. She didn’t notice that her leg was restlessly bouncing until the nice old lady beside her placed a hand on her lap. 
“Excited are we?” she smiled at her kindly and Amelie blushed, a little embarrassed. “I was once in love too. I get the feeling”
“Actually, I’m just anxious to be with my mom... My grandmother passed away yesterday and I wanna be there for her” the old lady’s smile changed to an empathetic one and she patted her knee.
“I’m sorry for your loss my dear... I lost my sister a year ago today. It is not an easy thing to grieve and I can tell that your soul feels heavy. You might want to think about sharing that load with someone” she smiled. A flight attendant interrupted their conversation letting them know that she had priority to leave the plane. The old woman then looked at Amelie and winked. “They’re letting us off the plane now honey. Thank you miss, but my daughter can grab my bags from the upper compartment, can’t she” baffled at the kindness of the old woman, Amelie dumbly nodded and stood to help her. As they made their way through the gate, an attendant was waiting for the old woman. “You can leave my bags with this gentle man” she smiled.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that” the old woman took her hand. “Your mother is fortunate to have you as a daughter. Now go and be with her” Amelie smiled and gave the old woman a hug, and teared up a bit remembering her own grandmother. Wiping away a tear, Amelie said thank you again and headed off to get her bags. To no surprise, getting her suitcase was a gong show because they had to share a lane with another flight. By the time she got there, tons of people waited right by the carousel for their bags, making Amelie stand in the back and tippy toe to see a glimpse of her bag. She was fortunate that a man had helped her as she squeezed her way to the front, waiting for her bag. With a deep breath, she exited the doors and dialed her mother.
“Hello? Maman? What car are you in? Oh wait! I see it!” Amelie quickly rushed outside of the door at YVR to get to her mother’s vehicle. She was able to find a flight that evening and she left right away. The flight was long, but she was able to make it home to her mother’s side in 24 hours. She trotted over to her mother’s vehicle that pulled into the loading zone, flashing their hazards on, her mother getting out of the passenger side. Amelie stopped for a moment, confused that her mother wasn’t driving the car. Her mother quickly embraced her in her arms and both of them shared a tearful hug. “Who’s driving maman?”
Charlie stepped out of the driver’s seat and took Amelie’s suitcase from her, as she stood there with her mouth open. “Surprise?” she immediately felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over her and she jumped into Charlie’s waiting arms crying as he held her tight. She felt sadness and happiness while grieving over her Grandmother and feeling elated at the sudden presence of the boy.
“How?” she sniffled and pulled away, wiping her tears.
“Charlie knew how sad you were over Grandmaman, so he texted me late last night and flew in early this morning” her mother explained. Amelie’s mother knew of her crush on the boy and always encouraged her to pursue the relationship further, but she always insisted to her mother that they would be nothing more than friends. Her mother would roll her eyes at her daughter every time she said that, knowing that the chemistry and the feelings were there, but the two were just too stubborn to admit it.
“That’s what friends are for right?” 
Right. Friends.
***
After being picked up at the airport, they went straight to her mother’s house and helped her mom plan out things for the funeral. Naturally, Charlie became the chauffer, driving Amelie and her mom around the city to make various appointments with funeral directors and lawyers. Amelie’s grandmother gave birth to five children and never remarried after her husband passed away. Amelie had very little recollection of her grandfather as he passed away when she was quite young. Each of her mother’s siblings had at least three kids and each child had at least three kids, making their family huge. That didn’t include her mother’s cousins and their families, all of which would be flying in to attend the funeral in two days time.
Running around was an emotionally exhausting task, not to mention the exhaustion that came with grief. The two women were grateful that Charlie was around for them that day as Amelie’s siblings slowly started to get into town. He ordered pizza for everyone, knowing that all of her siblings would be in Vancouver in time for the funeral. Her grandmother was clear that she wanted the viewing and funeral to be combined into one day, not wanting to prolong her burial process, something that they honored. But with that request, it meant a lot had to be done.
Amelie had four siblings, all of which were older than her, making her the baby of the family. Her brother Benoit had moved to New Brunswick to live with the love of his life Maxime, and he was the second to arrive. He had work to take care of and unfortunately Maxime couldn’t get the time off. Benoit got along very well with Charlie, connecting over Dieppe and how it differed from Fredericton where Benoit lived with his partner. Her twin sisters Rachelle and Rene got into Vancouver right before dinner and actually carried the pizza inside while Charlie paid. Both sisters lived in Toronto, one training on the Olympic figure skating team and the other working in Parliament. Throughout the night, they joked about how cute Charlie was and how they were both single and didn’t mind dating someone younger. This annoyed Amelie but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Her third oldest brother, Theo, was the last to arrive, getting in way past dinner but before midnight. He lived in New York pursuing photography and had to finish a shoot before he could come home. Hearing this, Charlie asked him multiple questions about photography when they sat around their mother’s fireplace that night. It was nice to be able to gather as a family before the craziness of their relatives. French Canadian families were big, loud and full of personality, but Amelie knew Charlie understood this dynamic very well.
The next two days passed by in a blur with Charlie helping out wherever he could and sometimes locking himself in her mother’s office to do an interview or meeting here and there. Amelie was so grateful for him because every time she felt overwhelmed or that she was going to cry, he somehow made it to her side, comforting her and helping her be strong. Rachelle and Rene kept telling her to claim Charlie before they did, but Amelie would always insist that they were friends. But when her brothers got involved, Amelie couldn’t help but think that maybe her siblings were right. Maybe she should ask Charlie out, but how could she do that when her entire family was still dealing with the loss of her grandmother?
Just last night, Charlie sat up late into the evening comforting Amelie as she put the slideshow together on her Macbook. She could hardly look at the pictures or listen to the music without tearing up and having mini cry sessions on his shoulder, something he took in stride. It also didn’t help that she had consumed an entire bottle of wine...
In all honesty, Charlie couldn’t be more happy to be by her side at this moment. He knew how hard it was to lose a loved one, especially since he lost his grandmother before filming season one of Julie and the Phantoms. Being here for her was important to him and he wanted to show her that she could always come to him. When she passed out on his shoulder that night, he thought about how badly he wanted to be with her as he tucked her in bed. He loved how she snuggled into his shoulder as he finished up the slide show and he loved that she reached out for him and called his name in her sleep as he walked away. He kissed your forehead goodnight and hated the fact that he couldn’t just call you his.
A soft knock at the door interrupted Amelie’s day dream of her grandmother. She wiped the tears that have unexpectedly fallen from her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come in” her voice was shakier than she wanted it to be, but relief washed over her when Charlie walked in wearing a black dress shirt and tie. He smiled empathetically to her and approached her with open arms, something she gladly accepted. She inhaled his scent, burying her face in his chest, while he rested his head on top of hers. 
“You ready?” Charlie held her tight as he asked this question. This would be the first and last time Amelie would be seeing her deceased grandmother.
“I should be asking you that question” she softly giggled. Charlie would be meeting all of her relatives today, including her annoying cousin Madeleine. 
“You forget that I too have a big family. It’ll be fine. Plus, I’m here for you and not them” Amelie pulled away from the hug to stare him in the eyes, silently figuring whether now was a time to discuss her feelings or not. In the end, she decided against it and smiled softly at him, which he returned.
“Thank you for being here Char... It really means a lot” he chuckled and pulled her close for a second hug, something she would never tire hearing.
“Anything for you Ams. Anything.”
***
The funeral and mass went according to plan and soon enough they found themselves in the church basement with a slide show of her grandmother playing in the background, while guests visited the pastries and beverages being served. Amelie was occupied with the many questions her aunts and uncles had about her career and how she was doing, but she couldn’t help but worry about Charlie. Throughout her conversations with her relatives, she watched Charlie help out her mother with the pastries and beverages, stopping once in a while to entertain the younger cousins at the children’s table. She smiled at him gratefully for helping out so much, but grew a little nervous when her nosy aunts and uncles pulled him aside and started interviewing him. It seemed like he was handling himself fine, but Amelie felt even more confident when he made eye contact with her and winked. 
“Well if it isn’t the Hollywood superstar.” Amelie could feel herself cringe at the sound of the voice. It was Madeline, Amelie’s cousin. They were the same age and same stature, but they couldn’t be more opposite. Madeline pursued modeling at a young age and still continued to do it, but for some reason, she always felt that everything was a competition. Amelie wanted to simply be cousins, but Madeline would take every opportunity to upstage her or show off to their aunts and uncles. Amelie didn’t really care, but the more she didn’t the more vicious Madeleine became. At one point in their lives, Madeleine had moved to Vancouver for more opportunities and ended up living with her family. This caused a lot of drama between the two of them, including Madeleine dating several of her exes and bringing them to family events.
“Hey Mads. Long time no see” Amelie forced herself to be nice and polite, even though she felt her cousin didn’t deserve it. Her black dress was a little too tight and a little too revealing for a funeral, but she wasn’t about to bring that up. “How have you been?”
“Oh you know, living it up in Paris, traveling all over Europe for different modeling jobs. It’s exhausting, but I’m sure you know of it” anyone could hear the sarcasm and apprehension in her voice. Her aunts awkwardly moved away, making up some excuse about visiting other family members so that they could catch up. “How does it feel to be working on a children’s show?”
“I mean, I love what I do, so I can’t complain” Amelie bit her tongue before she could say anything rude. She never understood why her cousin always felt the need to announce how much better she was over her.
“So... optimistic. What’s it feel like to settle?” she felt the blood rush to her face, starting to lose control of her emotions. This was not the place or time to have this conversation, yet Madeline persisted. She took a deep breath trying to level herself and forced a smile on her face. As she opened her mouth to reply, she felt a warm hand hug her lower back and the slight smell of cologne fill the air.
“Everything alright babe?” she blushed at the name and gesture from Charlie, who kissed the top of her head. Madeline flushed and her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Oh hi, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Charlie” he reached out his hand towards Madeline, keeping the other wrapped around Amelie. 
“Madeline. It’s nice to meet you Charlie. You’re an actor from the show that she worked on, right? What are you doing here?” Amelie could hear the faintest trace of annoyance in her voice, and shook his hand. Charlie and Amelie looked at each other, a cocky smile on Charlie’s face and slight confusion on Amelie’s. 
“I’m her boyfriend and I came to support her. I’m sure you’ve been dealing with the grief as well and I couldn’t let her go through this alone” part of what Charlie said was true, but Amelie couldn’t help but blush at the mention of boyfriend. No one had actually asked Charlie if they were dating, but a lot of relatives were beating around the bush. Apparently Charlie had said that rather loudly and some of the relatives started gossiping in a hushed voice. 
“Wow Amelie. I didn’t know you had such good taste in men based on your past partners” Charlie laughed at the comment, something Madeline didn’t suspect.
“I wouldn’t say I’m good taste, but Ams if definitely a catch” he gloated and kissed her cheek, causing Amelie to blush furiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I actually came over because your mom needs some help” if there was one thing Amelie could count on, it would be Charlie’s ability to read a situation and get her out of it. “Shall we, my love?” she nodded and walked away from Madeline flushed and confused, but also really excited. He moved his hand from her back to her hand, softly dragging her away from the conversation.
“Boyfriend?” Amelie whispered to him, inferring the comments he made to Madeline. 
“I know she ruffles your feathers, so why not ruffle hers?” Benoit interrupted Charlie, asking him if he could help put some of the tables from upstairs away. “You’re mom’s in the kitchenette, you can probably hide there for a bit. I got you a plate of pastries that I stashed in the back” she thanked him and watched him walk away with her brother. Before she could take another step, Rachelle and Rene linked arms with her on either side and rushed her into the kitchenette.
“So you’re dating now?!” Rene questioned and before Amelie could answer, Rachelle interrupted her. “When were you going to tell us this?!”
“About time” her mother scoffed, stirring another jug of fruit punch. “Okay you two, leave your sister alone to breathe for a second. Take these pitchers out to the table and find Theo. Make sure Tante Genevive hasn’t stolen him for a private photoshoot for Facebook” Amelie was grateful that her mother shooed the twins off and passed her the plate that Charlie put aside. 
“Thanks Maman” her mother smiled smugly at her, moving about the kitchenette. “Please don’t say I told you so” her mother made the motion to zip her lips as she giddily made her way around the kitchen.
***
That evening, Amelie’s family stumbled through the front door of her mother’s house, everyone retiring to their rooms for a short moment of relaxation while their mother ordered take out for a late dinner. They had stayed behind to clean up with a few other relatives and put away the church tables and chairs. Charlie didn’t complain a single time and rushed to do whatever he could to help everyone out. Charlie followed Amelie up the stairs to her old bedroom and shut the door behind him as she plopped onto the bed. Part of Amelie did this was because she was tired, but the other part of her did it hopefully to avoid the conversation they were about to have. Charlie quietly sat beside her on the bed and played with her hair, something she absolutely loved.
“So, about today...” this conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.
“It was really nice of you to stand up for me but you didn’t have to. I have no problem telling my family it was a small misunderstanding. It should stop them from blabbering to the media” She sat up and Charlie looked incredulously at Amelie confused at what she was saying.
“Ams, I don’t think you get it” again, she interrupted him before he could continue.
“No I do, I get it. You’re an amazing friend Char and you didn’t have to risk the rumours for-” she didn’t complete the thought because Charlie’s lips were suddenly on hers and she completely melted into them. It was like this tension that she never acknowledged left her shoulders, making her feel like she was floating.
“Do you understand now?” he searched her eyes for some sort of confirmation. “I really like you Amelie and I’ve liked you for a long time, but I’ve always thought you wanted to be friends”
“I wanted to be friends?! I thought you friend zoned me first!” he gave her a look for interrupting him. “Sorry”
“Regardless of what happened, being with you here and helping you and your family throughout all of this made me want to be a part of your life so much more. I want to be more than your friend. I know this is a bad time to say this, but I don’t think I can keep pretending that I don’t want to be with you” he held her hand in his and drew nearer to her again. “I really want to be with you if you’ll have me”
She closed the gap between the two of them and kissed him this time, something which Charlie gladly accepted. The two shared a simple but passionate kiss, as if they were confessing two years of secret feelings to each other. A bang at the door startled them.
“Put your pants on! Maman wants you guys to go pick up the take out!” Benoit yelled from behind the door. The two flushed at the comment and heard the snickers and giggles from the other siblings.
“So...boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend.”
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ananicoleta · 3 years
Text
I’ll Always Be Here
Summary: Penelope makes a last second decision that she does not want to be in Space Jam 2 without Pepe, and she quickly goes home to comfort him.
Hello, everyone! I’m back with a new fic about Space Jam 2, this time focusing on Pepe and Penelope. This fic was inspired from and ask, submitted by anonymus on @thebrownssociety 's account. They said they didn't want to write it, however, so I did instead (with their permission of course).
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to Warner Bros.
Enjoy!
“Ms. Le Pew, filming starts in ten!” The voice of a staff member reached Penelope’s ears, muffled by the door of her changing room.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” She called back. Then, there was the sound of footsteps walking away, meaning that she was all alone again.
Penelope sighed and looked at the scrip in her hands. She had tried memorizing the lines all morning, but with no result. Her brain just couldn’t process the text, the words danced in front of her eyes and the letters all became hieroglyphs with no meaning. No matter how much she tried to concentrate, her mind always drifted away, far from the Warner Bros. lot, far from the film set and the film itself, traveling all the way back to her home, where she knew there was her husband, alone.
It was so unfair. 
Pepe didn’t deserve all the hate and backlash he had gotten. Her beloved had done nothing wrong ever! All those people that claimed Pepe was encouraging a deviant behaviour had no idea what they were talking about. They didn’t know him, so why were they speaking like that?! Her Pepe, was the kindest, most romantic and gentle soul she had ever met. He would never hurt a fly, let alone do those kind of things.
But people didn’t seem to understand. No matter how many times Pepe and the other Looney Tunes tried to clarify this misunderstanding, how many times they told people those were just cartoons and they were just actors, how many times she tried to explain she had not been assaulted, their narrow minds just couldn’t comprehend it. In the end, the descision to remove Pepe from the movie and from the future Looney Tunes productions was made and, despite all the protests, no one had been able to do anything.
Those news had terribly depressed Pepe. Every single one of them knew how much the skunk liked acting and how fond he was of cartoons, so naturally, the whole situation was like a punch in the gut. He isolated himself from the rest of the world, which deeply worried both her and the rest of their family. At least Speedy, who knew better than any of them what it felt like to go through all that, had tried to cheer him up and comfort him, and to some extent, he succeded. Everytime Speedy talked to Pepe, he always felt better afterwards and acted a bit more like his usual self.
Still, concern always seemed to pull on Penelope’s heart strings, now more than ever, considering Pepe was all by himself at home, feeling lonely and depressed that he couldn’t be with them and do what he loved. And oh, how she wanted him to be near her right now! She wanted to hold his hand, as they walked on the film set, she wanted to hear him whisper romantic things in her ear, and then scold him because “it’s nor the time nor the place!”, but both of them knowing she liked it a lot. She wanted him to make her laugh and smile and fill her stomach with butterflies. She wanted...
Suddenly, she noticed a wet spot on her page and wondered what could that be. Then she noticed another. And another. Bringing her hand towards her face she realized that her fur was wet. She was crying.
Tossing the script aside, she buried her face in her hands and cried, and cried, and cried, letting all of her frustration out.
Knock, knock
Penelope jumped. “Who is it?”
“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Le Pew, but filming is starting now.”
“Yeah, s-sure, I’ll be out immediately.” She said, trying not to sound disstressed.
She got up and checked her reflection, making sure there were no clues that she had cried, then exited her trailer and marched towards the set, desperately whishing that Pepe was by her side.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Ms. Le Pew, are you even listening?” 
That sentence snapped Penelope out of her thoughts. She quickly realized that no, she had not been listening. Instead, she kept galncing at the empty spot, where Pepe should have been...
“I am sorry, Mr. Lee.” She apologised. “Please, continue.”
So, the man went on about how he wanted that specific scene acted and all that blah, blah, blah that Penelope, again, did not, could not, listen too. What was Pepe doing right then, as her and the others were filming? Was he feeling lonely or had he found something entertaining to do? At least that was what he had promised her that morning. I promise you, ma cherie, I will be fine. 
Those were his exact words. But the question was, did he mean them? Or they were just pretty lies, meant to chase away all her worries? Knowing how much Pepe loved her, she wouldn’t put it past him to hide his sadness just so she could have a good time...
Finally, Mr. Lee finished his rant and they were ready to film.
It should have excited Penelope. Ever since the first Space Jam released, she had dreamed of filming a sequel. Back then it seemed so exciting and fun to relive all that. Now, however, it was different. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't want to film at all.
“Okay, people, places!”
Just then, a thought blossomed in her mind. What if...? But no, she couldn’t do that. People were counting on her. She couldn’t possibly... Or could she? Truth was she didn’t play a big part and did not have that many lines, so it wouldn’t really be a problem if she left... would it? 
She looked around frantically. She had very little time to make a decision and she needed to make it right then!
“Ready! Actio-”
“Wait!” The word had left her mouth before she could even stop them. 
Everyone looked at her.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Le Pew?” Lee asked, confused.
“Yes, it is.” Penelope said. “I do not want to be in this movie anymore.” 
For a moment, silence engulfed the set. Then, the director’s voice rang clear, stuttering and, as Penelope had expected, trying to convince her against it.
“Ms. Le Pew, p-please, reconsider- I mean, you can’t- you can’t possibly-”
“Oh, I can. And I have.” She said confidently, ready to leave.
But Mr. Lee was not finished. Getting up, he marched right after her.
“Ms. Le Pew, why? Why do you want to leave production? Is there something wrong?”
“Yes, there is. My husband is not here and I don’t want to do this without him. Good day Mr. Lee.” And with that, she turned around and left, leaving behind a shocked director and a bunch of rather happy Looney Tunes.
“Guys, can’t you do something?” Mr. Lee said to the rest of the cast. “Convince her to come back?”
“For Warner’s sake, leave her alone, Doc.” Bugs said casually, munching on his carrot. “Even if we tried to convince her to retoin she’d refuse. Besides, we don’t wanna.” The other looneys nodded in agreement. “Now how ‘bout we get back ta filmin’?” The rabbit smiled (a bit) smugly at the director.
Mr. Lee sighed, realizing he had lost the battle, and yelled at everyone to get to their places again.
Meanwhile, Peneople was already out in the parking lot, unlocking her car, desperate to get to her beloved. As she drove back to Toon Town, not for one second did she regret her decision.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Pepe sat in his armchair, quietly reading.
It had been a long day. A long, boring day. His wife and friends had left in the morning to film Space Jam 2 and he had been alone ever since.
First, he tried taking a walk through Toon Town. Usually, a breath of fresh air, hearing the birds sing, the perfume of flowers and even the sight of other toons, going about their day, cheered Pepe up. It was so normal, so simple, yet he enjoyed it, and it reminded him to be grateful and take pleasure in the smallest things in life.
That day, however, it was different. The cent of flowers didn't smell as good as it did, the song of birds faded into obscurity, mixing with other sound and becoming insignificant, and the mere image of toons hurryig to work, filled him with depression. It reminded him he had no job anymore, no purpouse...
So he had returned home, picked his favorite romance book, Gone With The Wind, and sat down to read. But even that wasn't able to cheer him up.
He had truly lied to Penelope that morning. He was far from being fine. But, what else was he supposed to say? That he was sad and needed her there? How could he?! Penny had wanted to film that movie for so long. He couldn't take that away from her.
Just then, he heard the front door open and shot his head up in alarm. For a split second he thought someone had broken into his house (maybe some backround character thief that would be stupid enough to try to rob a house by walking through the fromt door?)
But, all his fears were cast aside and replaced with confusion when he saw his beautiful wife standing in front of him.
"Penny? What are you doing here?"
"I quit the movie." She said in an unaffected tone.
Pepe jumped on his feet. "Tu as fait quoi?!”
"I already told you. I don't want to film Space Jam 2 anymore." Her voice was, again, emotionless, showing absolutely no regret.
Walking towards her, he cupped her face in his hands. "But why?"
Pepe wasn't stupid. He had a hunch why she would do it. Yet, still he wanted to make doubly sure.
"Because I don't want to be in it, if you are not in it."
There it was.
Pepe sighed and caressed her face. "Ma cherie, don't let me spoil your fun-"
"But you're not! You never spoiled anything for me! Those bastards did when they kicked you out!"
"But you were so excited, Penny. You wanted this, so don't let me get in the way. Please, go back."
"But I don't want to!" Her voice now was hoarse and her eyes were filling with tears. "True, I was excited in the begining, but that changed when you were out. I don't want to do it without you, so don't ever feel guilty or say you are getting in the way. You are never getting in the way. It was my choice to leave, and I regret nothing, got it?" She was basically clinging to him now, gazing into his hazel orbs.
Looking into those beautiful eyes of hers and, seeing her passion, love and sincierity, filled Pepe with a strong emotion. Lifting her chin up a bit, he kissed his wife deeply. Penelope reciprocated this gesture, warping her arms tightly around his neck.
They stayed like that for a while, completely lost in their bliss. When they finally broke apart a few inches, Pepe had tears rolling down on his cheeks.
"Thank you for being here, my angel. Je t'aime beaucoup."
Penelope smiled. "I’ll alway be here, love. Et je t'aime aussi."
THE END
Translations: Ma cheire = my dear 
Tu as fait quoi?! = You did what?!
Je t'aime = I love you
Beaucoup = very much
Et = and
Aussi = as well
Thank you everyone for reading!
19 notes · View notes
svtskneecaps · 3 years
Text
crew and cast
(gender neutral) reader x jihoon
genre: fluff + some?? angst? listen i tried lmao; words: 2.8k
well howdy @toxicsocial​ tis i, your tct secret santa. so uh, i can’t actually make people cry in a timely manner and i didn’t figure most people would be down to read like 9k of buildup, so!! the angst is minimal!!! but i tried really hard and i hope you like it i love you so much also i forgot to title it again until right now so don’t look at it too hard
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You loved your high school’s theatre crew. From freshman year they’d been a staple in your life. It was refreshingly stable to be able to walk into the tech room anytime and reliably know what would be going on. Except, there was one thing about theatre you couldn’t stand: Lee Jihoon. You’d avoided him since freshman year, but unfortunately for you, you’d taken over the position of Run Crew Head and Prop Master, and he was the Student Director. You were forced to sit through every production meeting with him.
Which, fine. You’d do anything for the show to run well. But that didn’t change the fact that he made you want to commit a crime.
Or three.
“Great news guys!” you yelled, sweeping into the tech room. “The crutches still aren’t right and Jihoon wants us to repaint the brickwork on the platforms to be less ‘garish’ and the typewriter is from the 1940s when it should be from the 1890s and I’m going to set something on fire!”
Chan slammed his head against the nearest cabinet. “This is the third time he’s rejected the brickwork, oh my god.”
“Fourth time he’s hated the crutches too, and I’ve told him that the only period accurate typewriter in the basement is literally one wrong keystroke from breaking onstage but I guess he’s willing to take that risk for a typewriter that’s going to be in one scene.” You massaged your forehead. “I’m gonna stay late Wednesday so we can have our shit together by Hell Week.”
“I’ll have to join.” Chan peeled his head off the cabinet, cracking his knuckles. “You think Mingyu’s got time to spare? I might get him to help; there’s way too much platform for me to do in time.”
“Dunno, he’s pretty busy.” Vernon scooped a loose screw out of a sawdust pile and swept the whole thing into the dustpan. “Makeup’s been working hard to get the ‘ragged urchin’ look right.”
“I’ll con Soonyoung into it then, I don’t think they’re rehearsing the dance numbers tomorrow so he might be free.”
“I wish you luck with that, dude.” You scooped the crutch off the floor. “I gotta go beg costumes to let me into the basement storage and see if there’s another goddamn piece of fabric I can use for the crutches.”
“You have fun.”
You ended up getting lucky; Minghao already needed to go down there so you wouldn’t have to fight for cell signal to make sure you were allowed to deface the cloth scraps you’d found.
“You seem stressed,” he noted as he unlocked the basement door.
You snorted. “Stressed is an understatement.”
“Jihoon again?”
“If he tells me to redo the damn crutches again I’m going to nail him to the wall.”
Minghao lead the way down the stairs. “I really thought you had it that time.”
“Nothing is good enough for that guy.”
He shrugged. “He just wants the show to go well.”
“Yeah, well, so do I. He doesn’t have to get up everybody’s ass sticking his opinions where they don’t belong. He’s never been crew, why does he get to make us repaint the entire damn set anyway?”
“He’s the director.”
“Everyone else thought the bricks looked fine!”
Minghao looked at you sideways. “What’s your deal with Jihoon?”
“Like I said, poking his nose where it doesn’t--”
“No, you had beef before he got appointed Student Director.”
You sighed. “I don’t know. He’s always kind of been a pain even when he was ensemble.” You drove your finger into your temple. “And he broke a crucial prop that wasn’t his the night before the show opened and didn’t tell me.”
“You did props?”
“Buddy I was Prop Master. I literally didn’t find out until the Stage Manager tried to run that scene before school.” You glared absently at the shelves of typewriters to one side of the walkway. “I literally had to skip my last three classes and dinner to get a replacement and he never even apologized for it.”
Minghao whistled. “That’s unforgivable.”
“Tell me about it.” You waded through the costume racks to get to the bins of scraps in the back.
“And you’ve never considered forgiving and forgetting? I mean, it’s been two years.”
You sighed, leaning the crutch against a shelf. “I mean. . .”
He snickered. “Come on, it’s just you and me and the ghosts down here, you can say it.”
“I mean. . . he just makes me so mad!” You yanked the lid off a tote with a snap that echoed across the basement. “Like, every time I start thinking maybe he’s not so bad he pulls some other shit on me and I slam right back into hating his goddamn guts.”
“You’re on the same team,” Minghao called down the row. “You’re just trying to make the show better.”
“Making the show better shouldn’t involve painting the entire set three times.”
“I’m just saying, it’d put at least three years back on your lifespan.”
“Yeah yeah.”
You managed to update the crutches by the end of the day, and repainted the entire set on Wednesday--although you had to sacrifice your lunch and free periods and several hours after school to get it all done. Thursday left you with a finished set and another production meeting.
He didn’t like the bricks.
You saw red.
In the hallway, you pulled him aside.
“What don’t you like about the bricks?”
He frowned. “They detract attention from the actors.”
You wanted to seize him by the shoulders and shake him like a maraca. “It’s gray! It is the darkest most nondescript color we have in the buckets and you’re telling me it detracts attention from the actors? You haven’t even seen them rehearse with it!”
“It’s gonna be too much,” he argued. “It’s the same color as half the costumes--”
“I have seen every single costume in the show, it’s not even close to the same pigment!”
“Even still--”
“Listen,” you snapped, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, “if you want the set redone in time for Hell Week then I expect to see you in the goddamn tech room tomorrow after school wearing something you don’t mind getting paint on because I’m not going to make Chan and Vernon repaint the entire damn set by themselves for the fifth time and I have to figure out how to keep that 1890s typewriter from falling apart, do I make myself clear?”
He looked almost disgusted at the prospect, but he nodded stiffly. “Crystal.”
You turned on your heel just as stiffly, striding away before you lost all composure.
To your complete surprise, Jihoon actually showed up the next day, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a shirt so faded that whatever decal had been on the front had long washed away.
“So he arrives!” Chan yelled from his perch on the desk, where he’d been watching you wrestle with the typewriter.
Jihoon looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he squared his shoulders. “Where do you need me?”
“We gotta move all the set pieces in before we start,” Chan said. “Then I’ll probably have you start on the legs. We gotta wait for Vernon before we can move the tall stuff. One sec, I’ll--” he bolted into the hallway.
Jihoon stared after him, then looked to you. “Where is he going?”
“To tell Vernon we’re actually doing the repaint.” You shrugged. “Honestly I’m surprised you showed up.”
“I said I would.”
“Actually you just said you understood the ultimatum; we had no idea if you’d show or not.”
“Oh.”
You shrugged. “Good to have you anyway.”
Chan returned with Vernon before the silence could get too awkward, and you helped them move all the platforms back into the tech room. From there, Vernon set up his speaker and the real work began.
Jihoon helped choose the color of the bricks (and Chan threatened to really break his leg if he changed his mind about it later), and they got to laying down the base coat. You went back to glaring at the typewriter and reading through every antiques article you could find online.
After trying seven different methods to no avail, you shoved your chair away from the desk. “Typewriters are hellspawn created by the Devil himself to punish unfortunate Prop Masters.”
Vernon snickered. “That good, huh?”
“I’m going to put a screwdriver through the keyboard,” you said mildly.
“Okay maybe don’t do that.” Chan paused to pull a clean paintbrush out of his pocket and throw it at you. “You know where the overalls are; come take a break.”
“Why do you just have that?” Jihoon asked.
“A painter is always prepared.”
Jihoon glanced at you. You shrugged. “I don’t question it.”
Between the four of you, you managed to finish all but one platform by the time Chan and Vernon had to go. Being older, you had infinite time, so you cracked your knuckles and sat back at the typewriter. Jihoon lingered in the doorway.
“You need any help?”
You looked up. “Nah, I think I got it. Thank you, though.”
He shifted. “Listen, I know we didn’t really get off on the right foot but, I’m sorry. I know I never really apologized for the prop, and I’m sorry for how long it took, too.”
You sighed. “It’s fine. It’s kind of unfair of me to hold it against you this long anyway, so, I’m sorry too.” It wasn’t the only reason he made you so angry, but that chip on your shoulder made a lot of other offenses you would have normally overlooked seem larger.
“Can we maybe start over?” he asked. “Freshman year all over again?”
You actually found yourself nodding. “As long as you don’t make us repaint the set ever again.”
He laughed, running a paint-stained hand through his hair. “No, I won’t. I can’t do that to your crew again.”
“Good. Cause we weren’t kidding about breaking your legs.”
“I will keep that in mind.” He hiked up his backpack. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”
“Happy Hell Week.”
Hell Week was hell (and the sky is blue).
Three of the actors lost their voices four days before Opening Night. One of the glasses for the restaurant scene shattered during the dance number--even though it was supposed to be offstage already--and the third lead got very close to twisting her ankle after landing a jump wrong. The actors could never manage to find their light, there were technical glitches with the backstage mics, and you were so on edge that if you heard the word standby you’d jump so bad you’d bruise your knee on the table.
The typewriter gave you more anxiety than it was worth. The actress using it had strict instructions not to actually touch the keys, because the only thing holding it together was gaff tape. You’d put Jun and Wonwoo in charge of bringing the desk it sat on onstage, because you trusted them to have it under control and keep it from tipping, because if it tipped at an angle any more than about 30 degrees, the keys would get out of alignment and that required time and experience to fix, of which you had neither.
Needless to say, you were two steps away from tearing your hair out.
At least you weren’t fighting with Jihoon, though. You’d even gone out to grab takeout with him for dinner, once, and yelling about all the problems in the car was really cathartic and you came back refreshed and relaxed, for once (only for every muscle in your back to clench at once because an actor bumped the prop table in their hurry to get in costume and one of the glasses fell over).
But it was Opening Night, and you were wound tighter than a spring waiting for everything to go wrong.
And it did.
Jihoon was in the hallway behind the stage, giving Joshua a few final notes about his big solo, and he didn’t check his surroundings closely enough. In his wild gesturing to demonstrate the level of enthusiasm, his arm clipped the typewriter.
And it fell.
He stared at it. Joshua stared at it. You could not tear your eyes from it.
The keys had tilted out of alignment. The bar holding the paper was skewed. The decorative paneling to one side had cracked down the middle. You didn’t have time to fix it before it went on. Maybe you couldn’t fix it at all.
“I am so sorry--” Jihoon started, but you stopped him with a hand, balling the other into a fist.
“Don’t,” you forced through your teeth, because you didn’t want to start yelling at him; it was an honest mistake and it was your fault for not resettling it on the desk after the last run. You were just seething with rage, at yourself, at the typewriter--you didn’t want to project it.
“Ten minutes to go!” someone yelled down the hall. You forced yourself to exhale, gingerly picking it up, flinching with every shift of the keys.
“Is there anything I can--”
“Get to the booth. Tell Seungcheol what happened, just-- be in your place. Jun!” you yelled into the tech room. His head jerked up. “I need you to take over headset for me, can you do that?”
His mouth fell open seeing the typewriter and he nodded, wordlessly, leaping to his feet and hurrying backstage.
Jihoon still stood there, looking between the typewriter and you with an anguished expression. “You’re sure you don’t--”
“I got it,” you said again, clipped. “I can handle it. I can-- just get to the booth, Jihoon!”
You hadn’t yelled. You knew enough not to yell when the audience was already in their seats. But your words had the same effect, because he flinched, and he nodded, and he turned the other way and ran.
Your rage was turning inward as fast as it was dulling, but you had a show to put on, so you placed the broken typewriter carefully on a counter in the tech room and sprinted for the basement.
You managed to get the 1970s typewriter back upstairs and on the desk before it went on, and the show went on without a hitch. The actors hit their marks, all the props found their way back to the prop table, and the pit orchestra didn’t have to loop a section for a missed cue even once.
You waited until everyone was gone before you let yourself cry.
“I really am sorry.”
You looked up.
Jihoon stood in the doorway, twisting his hands.
“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s partially my fault for not making sure it was centered right.” You rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, hoping to disguise the redness. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Do you want help?”
“I don’t know if it can even be fixed,” you said, staring blankly at the remains of the typewriter in front of you. “It might-- it might be beyond my help.”
For a long moment, you stared at it, mind spiralling.
You pushed yourself up. “They’ll want to lock up.” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll just come in before the show and work on it. Maybe get Jun to grab me some McDonald’s or something and eat during the intermission.”
Jihoon’s brow furrowed. “That’s not healthy.”
“I’ve done it before.” You waved him off. “The show must go on, you know?” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The day came by in flashes as you researched the typewriter with a renewed vigor. You could probably use hot glue and some kind of putty to hide the crack in the paneling, you could probably put the keys back or at the very least tape them to look like they were back, from a distance. The bar at the top would be much harder but you hadn’t really inspected it the night before so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was?
You didn’t feel particularly hopeful when you stopped by the tech room to pick up the typewriter.
Until you saw the typewriter.
“What the fuck.” It was fixed. The keys aligned, the crack sealed, the bar sitting on top just as it was supposed to be. It looked exactly like it had when you’d first set it on that desk.
Jihoon came around the corner, dried putty staining his hands. “Hey,” he said, seeming tired but absolutely beaming at you.
“Did you do this?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t want you putting your health on the line.”
“Oh my god, thank you. I can’t-- this is incredible!” You kept tracing your fingers over the ridge formed by the sealed crack, but you couldn’t see it.
“I did a good job, then?” He put his hands in his pockets, grinning.
“Better than good, oh my god I could kiss you!”
Your cheeks burned when you realized what you’d said, but he laughed. “Whoa, buy me dinner first.”
“Bet,” you said, accepting it like a challenge. “You pick the place, I’ll pay.”
“Okay,” he said, and then lifted his hands. “I gotta wash up.”
“Meet you by the front door in five?”
“It’s a date.”
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laurenmm62017 · 3 years
Text
Lights on Yavin 4
This is for the Kalluzeb Reverse Bang! @kalluzebminibang
Art is by the talented @drunkenmantis! Go check out their piece~
Summary: Kallus and Garazeb finally spend some quality time together on Yavin 4 after the Battle of Atollon. Zeb gets called away for multiple missions in a row, and what does Kallus do about it?
Pine like a love-sick teenager, of course.
Kallus knew it wouldn’t be easy, openly joining the Rebellion. He had given more than a decade of his life to the Empire, and just because he was a spy for the Rebellion for a year doesn’t mean people have forgotten his origins.
The higher-ups of the Rebellion had interviewed him for any information they thought was valuable to the cause. Clearance codes, secret bases, anything he could remember. Oh, and did he mention the lie detector that they strapped to his chest? Because that was very efficient and smart of them, honestly. He was impressed, especially by their intelligence director, General Davits Draven. He was the one who strapped the machine to him, the one asking the most questions about his intel, the one pressing him more and more and more until he was ready to pull his hair out.
General Draven was… not cruel, really. Just extremely wary of him.
Which is wonderful for the Rebellion, but couldn’t they at least give him some bacta gel for his leg? They kept him in “debriefing” for a few more hours after that, and by the time he was released, he was utterly exhausted. All he wanted to do was get some bacta on his leg, some food in his stomach, and then pass out for an entire year.
As he walked out of the meeting room, ready to find the medical tent, or room, or whatever, he spotted the most unexpected person waiting for him.
Zeb stood against a stack of crates, obviously pretending to inspect his bo-rifle. As soon as the door opened, he looked up and his eyes immediately landed on him. His heart skipped a beat as Zeb walked over to him.
“Finally freeing you, eh? What do you say we head to medbay and then we can head back to the Ghost?”
“You must have read my mind, because that’s exactly what I was thinking. Lead the way?”
Zeb grabbed his hand gently (no, he is most definitely not blushing, thank you very much), and led him through the winding passages of the enormous temple that the Rebels had made their base. There were so many twists and turns, it was hard to keep track. Strategically sound, in his opinion. If anyone infiltrated the base, they would be hard pressed to find the most vulnerable people on base.
The medic who attended him was kind, but exhausted, since they were still looking over other victims of Atollon. He just asked for some bacta, but the medic brushed him off and began a full medical examination of him.
Zeb stood out of the way, but he was always in the corner of his eye as the medic poked and prodded and slathered in bacta and his leg set in a cast. Then he was told not to put too much pressure on it, come back in a few days to get it removed, and was sent off with Zeb to the Ghost.
He spent his recovery aboard the Ghost, while everyone recovered from the Battle of Atollon. Most of that time was spent in Zeb’s room, the galley, or the cockpit with Hera.
Kallus got to know the remaining members of the Spectres as well as he could in the week that he spent recovering, and in return, allowed the walls around his heart crack just a little bit.
He learned that Hera liked her caf with a splash of milk and a pound of sugar. She found and repaired Chopper herself during the Clone Wars. She liked to hum to herself while doing repairs on the Ghost. She’s not quite forgiven him for his time in the Empire, but he didn’t expect her to.
He learned that Rex, one of the few clones left in the fight against the Empire, was great at teaching. He had spent his time on Atollon running drills and such with new and old members. He was friends with, or at least knew of, everyone who came from Atollon. He spent his spare time talking with those two clones from Seelos on a secure channel.
And Zeb.
During his time as both an ISB agent and Fulcrum in the Empire, he had basically memorized Zeb’s file and could recite it backwards. But here on the Ghost, with Zeb taking care of him, he found he had known nothing about the Lasat.
Sabine may be the artist of the group, but Zeb could make a fair number of trinkets and other items. He had made custom chronometers for everyone. He made most of the silverware and utensils onboard. He had programmed their dejarik table.
Zeb was attentive to him, especially during the first few days of his recovery. He assisted with changing his bandages around his ribs and made sure he never had to walk too far.
Zeb didn’t linger on unimportant things. Sure, the obvious thing was Lasan, but like he had said on Bahryn, it was behind him, and he’s moved on. The next thing was Atollon. Zeb was just glad that Kallus was here now, and that the majority of Atollon’s personnel were now of Yavin 4.
Zeb worried a lot. Not about little things, about things that mattered. Do they have enough supplies, rations, ammo, and the other essentials? What was the Empire’s next move? Were Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine alright? They should have checked in by now.
Zeb was funny. They spent their final rest day in the common room, Kallus plunged himself into any intel that the Rebellion could throw at him before he was assigned an official position. He sat at the dejarik table while Zeb and Rex were neck deep in a game, throwing snippy remarks at each other. Kallus occasionally tuned in and chuckled along with them, causing the two to stare at him the first couple it happened. He stared intensely at his datapad, and tried his best to ignore the reaction of his laugh. But every time it happened after, Zeb grinned fiercely at him.
On Kallus’ last night aboard the Ghost, he and Zeb were in the common room, eating one last meal together before he was assigned to a section within Rebel Intelligence. Everyone else was off doing other things to prepare for their first mission off of Yavin 4, but Hera had given Zeb the night off, but they knew it was so that they could spend time together. Who knows when is the next time their schedules will sync up and they can sit like this again.
“Hey, up for a little hike?” Zeb asked, standing up after finishing up his portion.
Kallus blinked, before shoving the rest of his ration into his mouth and standing up from the table. “Of course, I am. Where to?”
Zeb grinned and motioned for him to follow him off the Ghost. The two of them disembark and Zeb walks straight into the jungle. Kallus hesitates at the edge. “Zeb?”
“What? Scared of the dark?”
Kallus smirked, thinking back to the ice cave. “Of course not. But we don’t know what lives in this jungle. It could be dangerous.”
“Kallus. Do you trust me?” Zeb comes back to the edge of the forest, and holds a hand out to him.
Kallus stares at the extended hand, takes a deep breath, and takes hold. “More than anyone else.”
Zeb leads Kallus into the darkness for a few minutes before they come to the base of a smaller, more hidden temple, similar to the one the Rebel base is now in. The pair follow the base a little bit before Zeb boosts himself up onto a ledge not far from the ground, helping Kallus climb up and together, they scale the side of the temple until they are above the treeline.
“Yer leg alright?” Zeb asked, steadying him on the last step, where it led to a platform covered in leaves and moss. It seemed like it’s been a while since anyone has been up here.
“Yes, it’s fine, I just need to sit for a bit.” Kallus replied, rubbing it a little, following Zeb over to a small rock, and settled there, before turning out to face the night sky.
“Oh wow…” He breathed in awe.
It was a completely clear night. Millions of stars sparkled behind the single ring of Yavin 4, framing a moon off in the distance perfectly. Down below, he could see the lights of the main temple, housing the largest Rebel cell currently active.
Emotion swelled in his chest. “How did you find this place?”
“Went to clear my head that first night we were here. The brass kept ya so long, I was getting antsy. So I just… wandered and found this place. Wanted ta show you before we left tomorrow.”
Kallus felt tears begin to build behind his eyes, but he refused to cry, to show weakness in front of his closest friend. “Thank you, Zeb. This is a gift I couldn’t have hoped for.”
“Any time, Kal. Any time.”
Read the rest on Ao3!
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