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#how am i supposed to keep track of all those. please just name placed actual names

callsign-bunnie · 1 year

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Hey, can i ask for a pt 2 to the scp thing?? I had heard of the backrooms but never the infinite ikea and it’s so cool!

Here you go!

[Transcript start]

Soap: Hey, Lt, did you hear what Alex was talking to Gaz about?

Ghost: I try not to listen to their conversations, I have a tendency to hear things I maybe don't particularly want to hear.

Soap: *laughs* That's fair, Lt. I wouldn't listen to Alejandro and Rudy's, either.

Ghost: I don't.

Soap: Alex was just explaining to Gaz about this place. According to him, it's infinite.

Ghost: I did hear that part, Johnny.

Soap: You should get back, soon. The lights are about to go out.

Ghost: Actually, I plan to venture out further. I want to see what this place is like at night.

Soap: Ghost, are you sure that's the smartest idea?

Ghost: No one else is willing to take the risk. I am.

Soap: Please don't do anything stupid, Lt.

Ghost: Me? Never.

Soap: Yeah, sure. I'll make up some excuse to Price, though he's pre-occupied. Farah has decided to try to make a map.

Ghost: Can you map out something that's truly infinite?

Soap: Well, I suppose you could try.

Ghost: That's all we ever really can do, Johnny.

Soap: Check back in in 20 minutes, Ghost.

Ghost: Rog

...

Ghost: Sergeant Mactavish, this is Ghost, how copy?

Soap: I copy. You're two minutes late.

Ghost: My watch is slow. It's hard to keep time in here.

Soap: It's alright. Where are you?

Ghost: The pillar says C24.

Soap: You can read those?

Ghost: My night vision works here, Johnny.

Soap: Right, haha. I remembered we have those. Was just checking to see if you remembered.

Ghost: Right. I'm going to go for ten more minutes and then I'll make my way back.

Soap: Please be careful, Simon.

Ghost: I always am, Johnny.

Ghost: Mactavish, this is Ghost, how copy?

Soap: Tired as fuck, but I copy.

Ghost: Are you on watch?

Soap: No. Technically, that's supposed to be Gaz, but Price found out you ventured out and I've been left to wait for your ass.

Gaz: Hey, Ghost.

Ghost: Hello, Sergeant Garrick.

Gaz: You can just call me Gaz, mate

Ghost: Alright, Sergeant Garrick

Soap: He's messing with you, Gaz. Anyway, are you coming back, Lt?

Ghost: I've already turned around. The aisles are convenient, I've managed to stay on track so far.

Soap: Welcome to Ikea.

Ghost: You come up with that one yourself?

Soap: I thought it was funny.

Gaz: Where did you say you were?

Ghost: C32. Though, I've just passed the pillar that says A30.

Soap: You have to make it back through so many pillars. Don't rush, Lt, just stay safe.

Ghost: I will.

Gaz: You two are kind of gross, you know

Soap: I don't know what you mean by that, Garrick

Gaz: Wow, I've never heard my name with such hostility.

Soap: I'm not being hostile. Was simply making a statement.

Gaz: Right. Look, mate, you two are kind of obvious you know

Soap: As obvious as you and Alex?

Gaz: Look, that's different. Alex... why am I explaining this to you?

Soap: Because you desperately want to talk to someone about it.

Gaz: *sigh* God, I do. Alex doesn't like me like that. Fuck, I sound like a thirteen year old describing their crush.

Soap: *laughs* It's alright, kid.

Gaz: Dude, we're the same age.

Soap: Eh, I picked it up from Price. I think Alex likes you like that.

Gaz: Don't tease me, Soap.

Soap: I'm not! I really do think he has feelings for you. I mean, he didn't spend 30 minutes explaining what the fuck an infinite Ikea was to any of us.

Gaz: I suppose you're right. Still. I think if he felt that way, he would have said something by now.

Soap: Have you said something?

Gaz: Do I have to? You picked up on it fairly early.

Soap: I suppose I did.

Gaz: Exactly. Plus, he's a CIA agent. I doubt... there's going to be one mission where he goes off and I never see him again.

Soap: He wouldn't do that to you. Especially not if you were together.

Gaz: I doubt that.

Soap: You must not have that much faith in Alex.

Gaz: I have plenty of faith in Alex.

Soap: I definitely believe you, Garrick.

Ghost: Mactavish, Garrick come in.

Gaz: Ghost, please tell me you haven't been listening the entire time.

Ghost: The whole conversation, kid.

Gaz: I'm going to shoot myself. Right now.

Ghost: Not important. I'm at pillar C12.

Soap: I'd ask you to signal but... I worry you'd alert one of those fucking things.

Ghost: Best not to.

Gaz: We're still watching for you, Ghost.

Ghost: Hey, Gaz?

Gaz: You used my name

Ghost: I think Alex likes you as well.

Gaz: I am putting the gun in my mouth as we speak

[Transcript end]

[Transcript start]

Laswell: Price, why are we here?

Price: I'm flattered by the amount of faith you all have in me to know what's going on, but Kate, I honestly do not know.

Laswell: They sent us in here. With no knowledge. No plan.

Price: They sent us in here to gather information. Take logs. That's what I'm doing.

Laswell: Price. I know about this foundation. I've worked with them before. I just think it's interesting that a year after you exposed General Shepherd for... what he is, they send us here.

Price: I know, Kate.

Laswell: You didn't actually ask the others to come, did you?

Price: No.

Laswell: Why aren't you being honest and telling them that?

Price: Because someone wants them to believe I did. Someone wants them to think I asked them to come. I want to know why.

Laswell: I'll help you find out, Price

Price: Thank you, Kate.

[Transcript end]

[Transcript start]

Soap: Price is going to kick both of our asses if he finds out you're going out at night again.

Ghost: Then go to bed.

Soap: No.

Ghost: Exactly. Look, something is off here and I just don't know what it is. I want to know.

Soap: You don't think it's actually... infinite... do you?

Ghost: No. I don't. There's no way.

Soap: What if it is? How would we even know for sure?

Ghost: I don't know, Soap. But... I want to find out everything I can. Farah's making that map, right?

Soap: Working on it, now. She hasn't been able to sleep at night.

Ghost: Well, we need to know if this place changes at night.

Soap: Right.

Ghost: Look, Johnny-

Soap: I'm not questioning or stopping you, Lt.

Ghost: Right. Thank you, Soap.

Soap: I await your check in at 20 minutes, Lt.

Ghost: Mactavish, come in.

Soap: Price found out you're gone. He's pissed.

Price: Ghost, I told you stay at the fucking camp.

Ghost: I want to see more of this place at night.

Price: Look, kid, this is hard enough without you guys defying direct orders

Ghost: Technically, sir, you never directly ordered me to stay at camp. You just told me to.

Price: Now you're gonna get literal?

Ghost: Just repeating what you've said, Captain.

Price: Just get your ass back to camp.

Ghost: Soap, did that sound like an order to you?

Soap: I don't think so, Lt.

Ghost: Neither do I

Price: You two-

Ghost: Price, I respect you, but with all due of that said respect, you dragged us here with no explanation. Now, I know I'm one to talk about blindly following orders but I would think after last year, we may question those orders a little more.

Price: *sigh* You're right. I blindly followed orders and it got us stuck here. According to Alex, we can't get out if we wanted to. I don't believe that but... I keep it in the back of my mind. But things are going to get a hell of a lot harder if we don't work together.

Ghost: I am working together. I am working to find out what the hell goes on at night. If we're to figure out anything, we need someone to go out at night.

Price: You have an hour.

Ghost: I would expect nothing more. I'll be back in exactly one hour.

Soap: I'll stay on the radio in case you need help.

Ghost: Thank you, Soap.

Ghost: Soap! Soap! Come in! Come in now!

Soap: Lt, what the fuck?! Is everything alright??

Ghost: I managed to piss off three of those fucking things. They're not people, that's for fucking sure-

Soap: I thought we'd figured that out by now do I need to send backup??

Ghost: No! I'm running back, now! Tell Price I'm going to be back late, I don't want to lead them right to you guys!

Soap: No- Simon, just come back to base! Don't get fancy, just run back. We have guns.

Ghost: I don't want to risk it

Soap: Ghost, please don't do anything stupid! You said you wouldn't do anything stupid

Ghost: Just watch out for me, Johnny, I'll be back eventually

Soap: I'm watching-

Ghost: Fuck! Soap! SOAP- [radio was cut off]

Soap: Ghost?! Ghost, how copy?! Ghost!

Soap: Ghost! How copy?!

Soap: Ghost, goddamnit! Come in!

Soap: Ghost, you stupid bastard, come in!

Soap: Simon, please! How copy?!

Soap: Fuck! Price!

Price: What the fuck is going on, Mactavish?!

Soap: Ghost's radio cut out! He's gone dark!

Price: FUCK!

[Transcript end]

Part 3?

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blasphemousgoggles · 9 months

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Strange Mr. Qi Part 2

A Mr. Qi x Reader, I might have to make more parts.

Warnings: Mr. Qi is the warning (Stalking)

Edit: Part 3 Added

He’s blue. Not in a sad way but in the way that he is literally blue. Now you had seen many things before, all sorts of strange monsters but you had never once seen a blue man. Other than that time Clint had to drink one of those Joja Colas for a commercial and got food poisoning but that's besides the point. You highly doubt that Mr. Qi would be drinking those liquid abominations. While strange you suppose that he was at least a very lovely shade of blue, a beautiful pale blue that you can see in the sky or maybe in an aquamarine from the mines.

He was tall enough that you had to crane your neck to look at him, his hair was a deep purple just above his shoulder and his hands were clasped behind his back. You couldn’t see his eyes due to them being covered by his amethyst lenses. He dressed very extravagantly, he wore a sleek button up and slacks, the fabric of his clothes looked like space itself. Blue, green, and yellow stars were glistening in and out of existence, a bit like a Christmas tree. To top it off he was wearing a wide brimmed hat that appeared to be made out of the same cloth of his outfit. While not traditionally, he was… really pretty Oh. Nah. Not happening. It's the weird stalker blue man, my guy. Walking red flag but blue. Why are you like this, out of all things to think about? Why. Get that thought out of your head. Better yet don’t think. Perishing the thought, you quickly avert your eyes away from him, he most definitely noticed that you hadn’t greeted him yet.

“Er- yeah, you too I guess…” you sound way too shaky man, pull yourself together then you can ask some questions. His smile widened and you can see the pearly whi- OH BOY does he have sharp teeth. You break out in a cold sweat, why are his teeth like that? It makes his grin look so much more menacing than it should, like you feel like you're gonna get eaten alive with those teeth. Please stop smiling. “Tell me do you know why I singled you out?” You frown, honestly you had no idea. You shake your head. “You've got the 'spark'… that's why I singled you out.” What. You furrow your brows “Spark? Sorry I don’t understand what that means.” Clearly he finds your confusion amusing because he starts chuckling. “What spark? The conduit of mystery, of art, of exploration… People like us have a responsibility to keep the world alive, to give folks a taste of the extraordinary. He then bent down to look at you better. “You see, kid, the world's like a bowl of rice. It's got substance, but it ain't worth nothin' without a good, zesty sauce. That's where we come in.” He gestures. Did this guy just compare you to a sauce? And you're now noting that he calls you kid a lot, why? He can’t be that much older than you. He continues to speak, “Didn't you ever wonder who put those treasure chests in the old mine shaft?” Now that catches your attention, you look at him quizzically, “Yes I have, but why would you leave them there?” he grins much more normally now, his voice deepens “I like to give people surprises. You'll understand someday. Just keep doing your best and never give up.” He straightens up and looks down at you. That was actually pretty motivating, your nerves were calming down just a bit with the added distance. “Thanks. I think. I mean I appreciate your- uh faith in me. Your quests made me feel more entertained in a way and you showed me that there's more I don’t know in the Valley.” Mr. Qi smiles softly, he looks as though he's about to say something so you quickly add “Also, I have to ask you some questions. I am a bit confused on a few aspects.” Mr. Qi doesn’t turn to look at you but he tilts his head to your direction and raises an eyebrow. “How did you get my information? Like on the club card you somehow got a photo of me and my full name. Are you keeping track of me somehow? What's the point-” He places his pointer finger on your mouth and shushes you like a child. Rude. “Dear, I can’t answer all of those questions right now, it would ruin the intrigue and excitement.” He smiles and removes his finger away from his mouth and points to a bear shaped machine. “That can answer one of your questions however.” with that he waves you off.

#mr qi #mr. qi #sdv #stardew valley #mr qi x reader #mr. qi x reader #poorly written

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pretzelpizzapuppy · 1 year

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Silly doodle of the peepaw for @sonic-oc-showdown ! plus the oc questions thing under the read more :3

Name: Ignatius

Species: Domestic Cat

Home: He travels wherever the wind takes him!

✨ How did you come up with the OC’s name?

I think I just looked up like, old people names LOL I don’t remember for sure tho.

🧑‍🦳 How old are they?

He’s in his 60s!

💞 Do they have any love interests?

Ehh not anyone specifically! Might make him a husband eventually.

🥞 What is their favorite food?

Hmmm... Probably belgian waffles with far too many toppings.

💼 What do they do for a living?

He’s a freelance detective! Sort of. He’s supposed to be retired but it’s hard to keep him in place.

🏐 Do they have any hobbies?

He loves anything to do with puzzles! Puzzle games, actual puzzles, escape rooms, murder mystery media... He also enjoys beach sports like volleyball but it’s a bit hard on his body now. He also likes to bake and mix drinks. He’s a jack of all trades honestly, he’s quite restless.

🎯 What do they do best?

Solving mysteries of course! He’s also a pretty darn good cook, if you’ll allow him to toot his own horn.

🥊 What do they love? What do they hate?

His one true love is puzzles, if it’s not clear enough yet! He also loves the beach and relaxing in the sun! He dislikes dreary weather, feels it makes him far too serious and stern! He’s also not one for stuffy museums, he’d much rather be learning from communities themselves! He’s a very knowledge focused guy but enjoys the experience of learning from enthusiastic people rather than textbooks. He really enjoys watching older shows too! MASH and ST:TOS being among his favorites. Imagine those in the Sonic universe however you please LOL

📸 What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Hmm... really, he savors the feeling of helping people! Each and every person he’s helped is slotted into his brain like a polaroid!

✂️ What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Yeesh, he’s too old to dwell on these things! If he kept track of every failed case and the homophobia and ableism he’s had tossed his way in life he’d have no time for the things he enjoys!

🏚️ Is their current design their first one?

Sure is! I tend to stick with designs once I make them. Little changes may happen here and there to make them easier for me to draw but typically, my designs stay the same! His fur pattern might be choppy or smooth depending on the amount of time I want to put into drawing it though LOL

🧠 What originally inspired this OC?

Sara was drawing Sonic OCs and I hadn’t ever really put the time into making one. So I sat down, grabbed a pelt pattern I liked, and took a LOT from Benoit Blanc from Knives Out. Someone in the tags of his poll said he’s got Columbo energy but I haven’t actually watched it so I can’t say for sure whether he carries those traits or not. My favorite color is purple so it tends to sneak into my designs. I made him about a month before the Sonic Murder Mystery game hilariously enough.

🎬 What genre do they belong in?

Mystery of course! Maybe comedy/mystery?

🏳️‍🌈 What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Gay for sure, trans maybe? I haven’t decided for sure and I don’t think he’s the type to really care too much for labels for himself. He uses He/Him mostly but won’t go out of his way to correct people.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 How many siblings does your OC have?

I haven’t really thought about it honestly. I’ll probably give him a sister. Feels right.

🧑‍🍼 What is the OC’s relations w/their parents like?

Not great. He was outed in his late teens and they. Did not react well. He already had a rough time from his undiagnosed autism and it never really got better. He’d liked to have improved things with them but he just... never really got around to it.

💜 What do you like most about the OC?

I just think he’s a silly guy :) I am pretty happy with his design too! I’m quite proud of how my skills have improved in that aspect.

🖍️ How often do you draw/write about the OC?

This is honestly the most I’ve done since making him LOL I work a full time job and my brain is more focused on Warriors atm tbh

🔪 Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

Oh absolutely not. I’m the type of guy who makes ocs for fun and to push them together like dolls! Maybe if I made him as a teen things would be different.

💀 Does your OC have any phobias?

Sort of? He’s got a lot of mental things going on about germs. Washes his hands a LOT and is very aware of just how much others don’t. Maybe snakes too since he’s a cat.

❤️‍🔥 Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

His own mind if truly his greatest enemy tbh. Turns out that constantly being on alert for clues can make you a little paranoid.

⏱️ How long have you had the OC?

According to discord, since January 17th, 2023!

#sonic oc

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potterwatch-transcripts · 2 years

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First Broadcast: 15th December 1998

Lee Jordan: Good Evening wizarding world, and welcome to Potterwatch, Britains premier Harry Potter appreciation show. My name is River, and with me as always is beloved man, my frequently maimed co-host, Rapier.

George Weasley: You say Britain’s premier show, like there’s some git in Laos who loves Harry Potter even more than us.

Lee: I refuse to rule out that possibility. What news do you have for us today Rapier.

George: Actually River, breaking news. We go live to our correspondent in the field, Roonil. Hello Roonil.

Harry Potter: Hello Rapier. I stand outsider Borgin and Burke’s in Knockturn ally, where a serious raid, led by legendary cool dude Arthur Weasley of the misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, has just taken place.

George: I hear that Weasley has many handsome sons.

Harry: Very true Rapier. 10/10 would snog Bill. Ah here comes Mr Weasley now. Mr Weasley, do you have a few minutes to talk to Potterwatch?

Arthur Weasley: We’ll of course.

Harry: What’s been happening here sir?

Arthur: Well…(under his breath) Harry what’s your radio code name?

Harry: Roonil.

Arthur: Well Roonil, in my studies of Muggle artefacts, I recently discovered several Muggle toys that had been cursed, causing Muggle children to attempt to resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named through blood sacrifice.

Harry: How awful. Was it success Mr Weasley?

Arthur: Luckily no. The cursed toys were actually toys for babies, which only resulted is several particularly vicious infants. As babies are, generally speaking, rubbish at murder, there was very little issue. Some toddlers did manage to break into the ministry of magic, but that was only an isolated incident that happened seven or eight times.

Harry: And you tracked these cursed toys to Borgin and Burke’s?

Arthur: I did indeed Roonil. Turns out they had been created prior to the most recent rise of you know who, and stored at the shop.

Harry: Amazing, thank you Mr Weasley. Back to you Rapier.

George: Thank you Roonil. How many babies do you think you could beat in a fight River? No magic, hand to hand only.

River: Babies are very puntable. I’d say at least 60 before fatigue wears in.

George: We ask the important questions here on potter watch.

Lee: And speaking of babies, do we have any news concerning world renowned former infant Harry Potter?

George: We do River. Potter has returned his Order of Merlin 1st Class to the ministry, saying he doesn’t think he’s earned it.

Lee: Didn’t he kill Voldemort.

George: Yeah but I could’ve done that. Potter accepted a 3rd Class OM instead from Minister Shacklebolt, and said he would like to ‘earn his way back to 1st’. I personally will be keeping mine, as it’s a good way to pick up chicks.

Lee: How come you got 1st? I only got 2nd!

George: I dunno, my dashing good looks?

Lee: I will be having words with the minister over this gross oversight. And now we have a special guest in the studio. Please put your hands together for a very very special guest, Runespoor.

Newt Scamander: a pleasure to be on the show Mr River.

Lee: Now Runespoor, you are very familiar with many of the magical creatures that inhabit our world. Firstly, could you please tell me, which one is your favourite?

Newt: Well River, I am fond of them all. Each magical creature has something to commend it. I suppose I’m partial to a Niffler. Those cheeky chaps are simply delightful.

Lee: I myself own several, so you’re in good company. Now Runespoor, could you tell us a bit about what you did during the fight against Voldemort.

Newt: Well I don’t like to show off, but I’d already helped bring down a dark wizard, so I was planning on staying out of it, and using what I know to protect muggles and creatures. However a ghastly man named McNair tried to recruit me. After I transfigured him into a penguin, I fled with my wife, and we set up, I suppose you could call it an Underground Railroad.

Lee: What did that involve?

Newt: I helped ferry muggleborns to safety abroad. Mostly to Africa, where Voldemort’s evil hadn’t spread. I also acted on some orders Dumbledore had left me, convincing powerful and intelligent magical creatures to band against Voldemort, or stay neutral. I didn’t fight in the battle of Hogwarts, my knees aren’t up to it you see, but I supplied that nice Charlie Weasley with some of my ideas. And my grandson Rolf was there. He stopped an acromantula from eating a Miss Luna Lovegood.

Lee: Amazing Runespoor. We just have time for a few questions from our listeners.

George: Runespoor, this is from Doris Purkiss. ‘How do I convince my pet Chizpurfle, Stanley, to stop eating my muggle neighbours electric cables’

Newt: Well Doris, I suggest you feed Stanley the left overs of any potions you have, or else go to a muggle shop and by what they call ‘Bat-arries’

George: Thank you Runespoor. A quick one from a Mr H. Potter. ‘Help my Hippogriff is an arse who keeps mauling my friends’

Newt: Mr Potter, that’s just Hippogriff’s being Hippogriff’s. Your friends probably failed to respect them properly. I can send you a copy of ‘Hippogriffs: Why they rock and how to help them’ by Barnaby Lee.

George: Thanks Runespoor. And finally, Charlie Weasley (age 26) asks ‘what is your favourite Dragon. Mine is a Hebridean Black’

Newt: Oh Charlie, a very good question. I love all dragons, though I am fond of the Peruvian vipertooth. However I think my favourite for nostalgia reasons is the Ukrainian Ironbelly.

Lee: Thank you so much Runespoor. It has been a pleasure. That’s our show ladies and gents. I’ve been River.

George: and I’ve been Rapier.

Lee: The next password will be ‘Horntail’. Goodnight

#potterwatchtranscripts #potterwatch #lee jordan #george weasley #harry potter #arthur weasley #voldemort #kinglsey shacklebolt #newt scamander #fantastic beasts #death eaters #albus dumbledore #luna lovegood #rolf scamander #charlie weasley

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gerogerigaogaigar · 1 year

Text

Yeah Yeah Yeah - Fever To Tell

A perfect trio. Karen O's fuck me or go fuck yourself attitude, Brian Chase's frenetic drumming, and Nick Zimmer's nasty riffs make for the exact album that the burgeoning post punk revival scene of the 00s needed to stay fresh. If only other bands had followed their lead 😑 I digress though. The willingness to delve into the territory of noise rock only to always pull it back into more palatable garage rock/post punk territory is masterful. Like musical edging they keep it tastelessly sexual for almost too long. Up until the last few tracks which allows for an emotional release that helps pull the whole album together thematically.

Neutral Milk Hotel - In The Aeroplane Over The Sea

If it were me, hear me out now. See, if it were me, I would keep my Anne Frank sex dream to myself. I wouldn't write one of the most cryptic and beautiful albums of all time about it. I would not have combined indie folk and alt rock into a psychedelic melange of dreamlike wandering. I would have just kept that to myself. But I've made exactly zero of the greatest albums of all time so what the fuck do I know? This album is so completely sincere so please treat it gently. And ignore it's status as hipster holy grail. Listen to it on its own merits, for me, please?

Green Day - Dookie

Pop punk is maybe not the most well respected genre, and I get why. I don't think a lot of adults want to hear nasally privileged teens singing about jacking off. If Dookie, or any album like it, was a part of your childhood then you probably already know if you'll like this album. And if it wasn't then you probably already know you won't. But if you are at all curious where the 90s pop punk scene started then you have to listen to this, at least for the historical significance.

Robert Johnson - King Of The Delta Blues Singers

Robert Johnson, by god how am I supposed to review Robert Johnson! There were other earlier bluesmen but they didn't have the exact influence on rock music that Robert Johnson did. Not only did his blues stylings influence the original.batch of rock n rollers of the 50s but this very compilation reintroduced him to the artists of the 60s. It's not hard to see why he was so influential. Despite, or most likely due to, the stripped down performances Johnson's guitar work never overshadows his haunting vocals and vice versa. And that guitar work! Johnson may not have been the first blues musician to have supposedly sold his soul in exchange for musical talent (he isn't even the only blues musician with the last name Johnson to have that rumor attached to him) but it's easy to see why it stuck to him. He bounces around the fretboard effortlessly and lays down harmony and counterpoint all in one take while singing to boot!

Isaac Hayes - Hot Buttered Soul

In the wake of Otis Redding's untimely death Stax Records had to do something quick. They pushed for a slew of new albums to be completed quick including a follow up to an unsuccessful debut by up and coming session musician Isaac Hayes. Hayes demanded full creative control over and the Stax execs were in no place to argue. The result is a four sing album with three out of four track passing the ten minute mark. It's also really horny. Hayes has one of those voices where everything he sings just becomes sensual. I mean that was the entire joke of him being in South Park. On this masterpiece of a record though, oh man do the instrumentals know how to match his energy. Sloppy, funky bass and lush orchestral arrangements perfectly match Hayes's soulful, lonesome longing. This is such a perfect fuck album that I think it would be too on the nose to actually put on during sex.

Big Brother & The Holding Company - Cheap Thrills

Janis Joplin's voice is probably the most irreplaceable loss that the music world ever suffered. Wait nah I'll save this bit for when I review Pearl. They better put Pearl in this fucking list.

Janis Joplin was active for four years put out four studio albums had three bands and two distinct phases to her career and then dropped dead at the age of 27. She currently holds the 100% completion speedrun for being a rock star. And Cheap Thrills is definitely the most 'rock star' of all her albums.

The Temptations - Anthology

Hitsville USA: The Motown Singles Collection 1959-1971 is exactly what it says in the tin. A collection of every single released by Motown during their golden era. And looking at the track listing it's easy to see why the studio was nicknamed Hitsville USA. Five hours of runtime and nearly every song on here is an instantly recognizable classic. Even some of the deeper cuts are still just amazing. You would think that sitting through five hours of this might get tiring but I've seriously put this on and by the time it ends I'm like "wtf that wasn't five hours?" If you only have room for one comp in your collection make it this one. And if you want recs for a fucking Temptations record then listen to The Temptations Sing Smokey, Cloud Nine, or All Directions instead of another unnecessary compilation.

#500 album gauntlet #yeah yeah yeahs #neutral milk hotel #green day #robert johnson #isaac hayes #big brother & the holding company #the temptations

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gukyi · 3 years

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the art of the rom-com | jjk

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

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as you can pick your teammate.

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

Shit.

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

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

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

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

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

Right above is your response to his comment.

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

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

Your fists tighten by your side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

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

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

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

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

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

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

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

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

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

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

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

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

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

Jungkook: miss you already <3

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

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

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

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

In a way, you suppose it kind of is.

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

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

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

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

Well, she’s got you there.

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

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

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

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

Dear Professor Pollack,

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

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I can’t change partners?”

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

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

“That’s life,” she corrects.

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

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

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

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

“You’ll find a way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

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

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

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

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

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

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

Yeah, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“We’ll be the stars.”

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Of what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you in?”

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

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

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

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

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

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

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

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

You smile up at him.

“I guess we will.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say that about everything.”

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

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

And you?

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

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

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

“No reason,” you say, looking away.

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes.

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

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

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

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

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

Hopefully not.

“Sort of?”

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

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

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

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you?”

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

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

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

Can’t you?

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

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

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great,” you deadpan.

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

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

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

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

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says.

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

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

You don’t like the sound of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you explain what you mean by that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.”

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

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

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

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

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

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

You shake your head back at him.

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

It’s strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? About what?”

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

“Us?”

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

If he says so.

“Hey! Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments.

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

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

“Do you really need to do that here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talki—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” Jungkook says.

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

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

“I appreciate it,” you say.

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

Like you even have a choice.

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

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

It smells like him.

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

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

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?” You prompt.

“Promise.”

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

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

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

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

“So,” Jungkook echoes.

Silence.

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

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

“We already know each other.” You frown.

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

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

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

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

“Red,” Jungkook responds.

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

“What about you?”

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

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

“This project is different,” you insist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And let me love you, baby…”

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

“Let me love you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was that, Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re alright.”

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

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn.

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

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

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

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

Then, you take a seat right next to him.

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

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

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

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

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

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

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

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

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

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

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

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

“Thank God,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up.

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

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

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

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

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

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

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for coming.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”

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

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

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

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

“Well, how do you think about it?”

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

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

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?”

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

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

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film.

Jungkook grins your way.

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

“How about we hold hands, too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excellent.”

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

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

It’s new.

It’s strange.

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

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

You wonder what that means.

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

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

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

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says.

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

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

“Magical.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

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

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer.

“How are you feeling about him?”

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

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

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

“In a good or bad way?”

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

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

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

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

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

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up.

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

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

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

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

Taehyung sighs.

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

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

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

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

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

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

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

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

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

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

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

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

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

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

Jungkook: always such a tease

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, please don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

He’s never been able to resist you.

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the curiosity is eating at him.

“Forget what?”

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

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

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

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

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies.

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

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

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

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

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

“You can say something,” you tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost does it.

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

But he doesn’t.

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

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

It’s good enough for him.

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

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

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

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy.

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

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

Jungkook grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook walked me home?”

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

“No,” you say dumbly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything else, Mom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that means a lot to you.

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

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

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

He grins.

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How generous of you.”

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

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

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

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

Jungkook likes the sound of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, the project?”

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

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

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

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

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This.”

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

But he need not worry about that.

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

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

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

“You scored,” you remind him.

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

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

“Never.” He smiles wickedly.

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You send him one back without even needing to think.

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

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

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

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

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod.

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

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

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

“Always,” you say.

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

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

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

“How gentlemanly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

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

“You both seem very happy.”

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

“Jungkook?”

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

“Are you glad you did this project?”

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

“You seem really certain about that.”

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

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

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

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

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

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

“Who, me?”

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

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pollack!”

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

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

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

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

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open.

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

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

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

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

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

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously.

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out.

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand.

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you.

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix.

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit.

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night.

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons.

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers.

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play.

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself.

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right.

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him.

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice.

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you.

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real.

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place.

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either.

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over.

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat.

The truth is, you were always a goner for him.

And look how well that played out.

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight.

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table.

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop.

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur.

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good.

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy.

Hope.

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve.

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much.

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you.

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end.

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside.

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side.

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it?

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door.

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him.

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

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you.

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you.

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful.

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought.

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby.

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now.

A brand new frame.

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now.

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie.

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back.

“Yes,” you declare proudly.

And so, they lived happily ever after.

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook college au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the art of the rom com #dudes this fic is so long my keyboard is lagging HAHAHA

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v-hope · 3 years

Text

Fall Out, 9:47PM — Belong

Warning: Familiar argument/fight and violence (nothing major).

Feeling his pocket vibrate over and over as Jimin kept spamming him with texts for him to go back downstairs where the party was taking place, he kept on walking, completely ignoring his best friend’s pleads, as he knew all too well that Jimin would not make a scene, which would definitely happen if he ran after him to stop him.

It wasn’t like he was trying to start a fight or anything. He had just seen you talk to your parents by the other side of the room — neither of you looking precisely happy as you made your way upstairs, where Jimin had pointed out your bedroom was. And, although he was dying to know what was going on, he knew he could always ask you afterwards. It was watching Sungjin going up right after you, what made him decide he was joining whatever was happening up there as well.

After all, he was your boyfriend. Not Sungjin. Even if the entire world believed otherwise.

It took him a good couple of minutes to find your room, for the mansion you used to live in was way bigger than he had expected — the music downstairs being barely audible anymore as he kept walking deeper into the second floor. He would probably have ended up giving up and going back down with Jimin to keep on drinking his feelings away, if it weren’t for the fact that he caught a glimpse of Sungjin after having turned right into what he thought, and hoped, was the last hallway.

Lee remained outside of a white door that Taehyung supposed belonged to your bedroom — palms lightly pressed to it as he tried his best to listen to what you and your parents were talking about inside.

“Stalker much?” Taehyung couldn’t help but call out once he reached his side, voice quiet as he tried his best for you not to listen to them from the other side of the door.

Sungjin rolled his eyes, taking a step back from the door. “Just worried”.

“What’s there to be worried about?”

“Y/N’s trying to talk them out of going on the trip, that won’t end up well”.

Taehyung frowned, clear panic mixed with confusion in his eyes. “What trip?”

Sungjin froze, petrified eyes locking with Taehyung’s to try and find out whether he was playing dumb or not.

“Yah, what trip are you talking about?” Taehyung pushed it.

“She… She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head no. And for a moment there, staring into the dumbfounded and quite worried expression on Sungjin's face, he forgot that he didn’t know about your relationship to begin with. He seemed way too aware not to.

Nevertheless, even if Sungjin didn’t know you and Taehyung had been a couple for a good amount of months by now, he was not stupid — the chemistry between the two of you, and the way you cared for one another, were too much for him not to notice. Therefore, he was indeed taken aback over you not telling Taehyung you were going on a family trip with him.

Before Sungjin could even begin to try and give him an explanation, however, both their heads snapped back to the door — the voices inside becoming louder and closer to where they were standing. Just enough for them to be heard through the door, even more considering both guys pressed their ears to it without a second thought.

“You never listen to me!” your exasperated voice was the first one they heard. “I don’t want to do this anymore, just let me go already”.

“You can still change your mind, dear” your mother spoke up. “We said one year and we’re not giving up on showing you that you belong here until the last second”.

“Will you ever leave me alone after that?” your broken words made Taehyung feel uneasy. “Because this one year was supposed to be for me to show you I could survive on my own, which, by the way, I already did. It was never for you to convince me to stay”.

“We would be morons not to try and make you stay, dear”.

“I’m starting to believe the two of you will sabotage my life until I come crawling back here with you”.

“All we’re asking is for you to consider your choices until the year is done. We’re not monsters, darling” it was your father the one to speak up this time, causing Taehyung to roll his eyes right as you scoffed quite loudly.

“Lately that is all I can see you two as”.

“Excuse me?”

“What I just said,” although your voice trembled, it was confident enough. “I love you both so much, but all you’ve done this past year is make my life harder. I loved my life here, with its ups and downs, until the Jimin incident happened and you guys became even more controlling than you ever were”.

“We just want what’s best for you” your mother tried to make you understand. “All we want is for you to have the best things in life, Y/N”.

“And I have everything I need back home with Taehyung”.

Sungjin’s eyes snapped up to Taehyung, who bit the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to smile at your words, as your relationship had apparently been exposed to your fake fiancé right then.

“Please, that is not your home” your mother laughed, in a way that made your boyfriend’s blood boil. “You belong here, dear. You’re a Kim. You have always been and will always be a Kim. I know you will come to your senses and marry Sungjin so you can take after our business with your brother. You’re coming with us and that’s final”.

“Watch me. I’m not going on that trip”.

That’s when the doorknob turned and you came out of the room, stopping in your tracks when you stood face to face with the two nosy guys who didn’t know where to hide right then.

“What are you doing here?” your father’s voice was heard over yours — threatening eyes not on Sungjin, but on Taehyung.

Your boyfriend, however, did not take one step back. “Trying to find out what’s going on here”.

“I will tell you what’s going on here, handsome” your mother interrupted, unintentionally using the pet name you had for him — in a despective way, of course. He hated it. “Our daughter deserves better than you. She will come with us on a family trip with Sungjin and his family, so she can spend some quality time with her fiancé and realise how much happier she would be if she just married him and stayed here with us”.

“I’m not staying”.

“Whether you like it or not, this is reality” your mother kept talking to Taehyung regardless of your addition. “Did you really think a heiress like her could fall for a cheap artist like you?”

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that” you defended him in a heartbeat.

Taehyung, on the other hand, stayed silent.

He knew that was not what you thought. He had heard you only one minute ago tell your parents that you wanted to be with him, that your home was with him. Nevertheless, it hurt. Hearing all those things hurt, because they were exactly what he had been thinking when he saw you act ever so happily with your guests downstairs as your birthday gala went on.

No mater how many actual proof he had of you wanting to stay with him, he couldn’t help but think that there was still a chance, as small as it could be, of you coming back here with your parents and leaving him. Maybe it was the trauma of having lost all his loved ones before, he wasn’t sure. But, whatever it was, he couldn’t help but feel like he would lose you in the end.

They were right, in a way. You were used to this lifestyle. And he wished he could give you this kind of life. But he couldn’t. He could not afford it. He would never be able to afford it.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that” your mother fought back. “You still are my daughter, dear. Know your place”.

“Please,” you let out a breathy laugh. “I’ve known my place all along. Now you should take a hint and know yours, mother. Taehyung is my boyfriend”.

“And I am your mother”.

“I don’t care who you are! I love him! I love him and I’m staying with him, whether you like it or n—”

Your words were cut off by a burning feel in your cheek, one that a second later you learned had been caused by your mother’s hand colliding with it.

That was all it took for the two guys present to run next to you. Taehyung was faster, though — warm, familiar hands cupping your face and checking up on your already swollen cheek, his worried eyes silently asking your teary ones if you were okay, only glaring at your mother once you had nodded your head.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m her mother, she owes me respect”.

“She owes you nothing!” he pulled you to him. “She is an adult, why can’t you get that?”

“We do not owe you any explanations” your father said, so calmingly it was infuriating.

“I would like an explanation, though” Sungjin mumbled. “Since I could possibly be marrying into this family”.

“Sungjin-ah…” your mother warned him.

“You just hit your daughter. In front of our eyes. You cannot possibly believe that is alright”.

“I believe the two of you don’t have a say in this”.

“As her possible future husband, I think I do”.

“And as her actual boyfriend,” Taehyung’s low voice caught their attention. “I will be taking her away from you now”.

Before they could stop you, his hand travelled up to your shoulder, securely keeping you by his side as he turned around and guided you away from the dramatic scene you had been involved in.

“I wouldn’t stop her from going on the trip with us tomorrow if I were you” your father spoke up as the two of you walked away from them. “Wouldn’t want your precious art to go downhill”.

“Whatever”.

You stared up at him, not being able to hide just how much both your father’s threat and Taehyung’s careless answer had worried you. Daring your parents was like playing with fire, and you didn’t want him to burn — especially not when he had found himself involved in this whole situation because of you.

All the confidence you had once felt about not going on the trip no matter what card they pulled on you, gone. For they were no longer using a card against you, but on him. You could not drag him into a fight that wasn’t his.

But he didn’t seem to mind. And, if he did, he was hiding it very damn well. With his eyes fixed ahead of you, he did nothing but keep walking aimlessly.

Although his first thought had been to take you home, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the place was filled with paps waiting outside so they could pester with questions and picture whoever it was that left the gala. Definitely not the way to go when you’re trying to keep a relationship secret. So, instead, he took you to one of the bathrooms on the second floor — informing you where he wanted to go and having you point out for him where the closest bathroom was.

Once inside, he made sure to lock the door, later lifting you up by your waist and sitting you down on the sink. Turning the hot water on, he wet a small towel and gently pressed it to the swollen skin on your cheek, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth at the contact.

“Are you really okay?” his eyes fixed on yours.

You nodded, a small smile curving up the corners of your lips. “Should’ve seen the one she gave me after finding out about Jimin and I”.

“It’s not funny” he shook his head, eyes just as worried as before.

“Sorry” you lowered your head. “I’m okay, though. It hurt me more what she said to you”.

“It was nothing” he lied, pressing the towel to your face one last time before he put it down next to you on the sink.

“None of it is true” you reassured him.

“Even the trip bit?”

You bit your lip, feeling your chest tighten as you knew you could no longer keep this from him; not when you had not managed to make your parents change their mind. You shook your head no. “That part is true…”

“So you’re truly going on a ‘family trip’ with them” his voice let you know just how bad he was not having it. “When?”

You said nothing, staring down at your hands resting on your lap as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

“Y/N?” he pushed it, your silence alone letting him know he would not like the answer he was looking for. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow”.

Silence.

And then, a breathy laugh escaped his mouth — an incredulous one, with no signs of humor in it whatsoever.

“Tomorrow?” he repeated. “You’re leaving tomorrow for God knows how long, on a trip with the one guy you’re possibly marrying, and you’re only now telling me?”

“I’m not marrying him” you mumbled.

“Were you even planning on telling me at all?” he asked, not seeming to care about your quiet correction. “Or were you just leaving tomorrow and letting me know once you were in a hotel room on the other side of the world?”

“Don’t be like that…”

“Then how do you want me to be, Y/N? Don’t I have a right to know my girlfriend is going on a trip with another guy?”

“I was trying to stop the trip altogether” you tried to explain. “That’s why I was talking to my parents. I do not want to go, Taehyung. I was trying to make them change their mind”.

“Well, that surely worked” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry” you held his hands in yours. “I tried, I really did”.

“So that’s it?” he asked coldly. “You’re going?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes!” he took a step back, hands slipping from yours. “You do. You’ve had a choice all along, yet you’ve decided to still follow your parents’ orders even after all this time”.

“My father literally threatened your career if I ended up not going”.

“I don’t care what he does to my career. I can go back to work part time and keep it as a hobby for all I care”.

“I won’t let you do that”.

“I told you I don’t care about it,” his voice turned stern. “Why do you?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason your life is sabotaged”.

“My life is being sabotaged right now and it’s got nothing to do with my art”.

That had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This, right now” he pointed to you and back at him. “I want to be with you, Y/N. But you’re not letting me, you’re making all the decisions for me”.

“I’m not making any decisions for you”.

“Yes, you are” he threw his head back in exasperation. “You’re choosing my career over you right now and I’m not even getting a say on it. It’s supposed to be my decision and I’d choose you in a heartbeat”.

“Taehyung…”

“Just stay here” he pleaded in a small whisper, his forehead faintly resting on yours. “With me”.

You bit your bottom lip, in a poor attempt at stopping it from trembling as your eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t…” you managed to whisper. “I can’t risk it. Even if I did stay, you would end up hating me for having ruined for you what you love the most”.

“I love you the most”.

You shook your head no. Your heart hurt more with every passing second. “It’s only going to be a couple of days. We won’t be there for longer than a week, an—”

“I don’t care how long it’s going to be,” he once again withdrew from your touch. “I don’t want you to go”.

“Taehyung, they have contacts in every single art gallery in the country” you pointed out, letting him know what he would be facing.

“I don’t care” he repeated, growing more frustrated by the second. “I’ve been very understanding when it comes to keeping our relationship a secret and you going out with Sungjin and acting like a couple all the time we’ve been dating, but I am not letting you go on a romantic trip with him”.

“It’s not a romantic trip”.

“No, you’re right. It’s a family trip” his words sounded venomous. “Do you know how much more that hurts? You’re supposed to be my family, not his”.

“I am!” you cupped his face, pulling him close enough for your forehead to rest on his. “I am your family, handsome. I’m never going to be his. But it’s just this once,” your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks. “Just this once, and then the last month will be gone and I won’t ever have to go out with him and act like a couple again”.

Taehyung shook his head, defeatedly closing his eyes. “It won’t end there,” he sighed. “You know that, right? After the trip there will be a family dinner, then maybe another gala, then a proposal, th—”

“No” you cut him off. “No, that won’t happen. I won’t let it happen”.

“They threatened us with my career, Y/N. They won’t let that card go” he reminded you. “And although I don’t care about it, you seem to do”.

“I just can’t bear to be the reason your dream goes to waste. I know my parents” you tried to explain. “This one month left will be over soon…”

“Why not stop everything now then?”

“They won’t let me. The deal was one year, they won’t let me give the remaining month up, don’t you think I’ve tried already?” your voice broke. “If I had known I would fall for you three months in, I wouldn’t have agreed to one year”.

He sighed, feeling his own eyes well up with tears, yet doing his best to stop them from falling. “I don’t want you to go…”

“I promise it will be just for a few days”.

“Just a few days are enough for you to change your mind”.

You froze at his words, a part of you understanding what he meant, yet not wanting to believe it. “What?”

Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek. He had said it out of spite, out of hurt, but it was done, and now you were waiting for an answer. So, he gave you one.

“I saw how happy you looked tonight. The way you would talk with those girls you’ve always said are not your friends. The way you would lock your arm with Sungjin’s and smile next to him all night long”.

“There are cameras everywhere, I was acting”.

“Didn’t look like acting” he mumbled.

You sighed, fixing your hair as you tried to come up with the right words. “I admit I did enjoy myself every now and then, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay here”.

“Try saying that after multiple nights having caviar and champagne for dinner”.

“You’re being unfair”.

“I am being unfair?” he scoffed. “I’m not the one going on a trip with the person I could end up marrying”.

“I won’t end up marrying him!” you repeated what you had been saying for over a year now. “I love you, not him. I won’t leave you and I will not marry him. You just… don’t trust me at all, do you?”

“Don’t try to turn the tables” he warned you.

“No, I know I hurt you and I know I’m in the wrong, and that you have all the right to be mad at me right now. But you should know better than to believe I will just drop what we have over a fancy life”.

“Well, it’s been nearly a year and you still haven’t let this double life of yours go. Plus, you didn’t move out because you hated this lifestyle, but because you didn’t want an arranged marriage, so…”

“So that’s what you think? That I will fall right back for this lifestyle’s charms and end up leaving you?” you tried to look for his eyes, only to have him stare intently to the wall on the side. “Do you think I changed from the way I was when we first met at all?”

He shrugged, and it was the fact that he stayed silent for a few seconds, actually considering his answer, what hurt you the most. “They’re your parents after all. Your family… or at least your biological one. You still love them no matter how bad they treat you, and I guess I get it. You just don’t seem ready to let them go”.

“I just told my parents that I love you and am staying with you” you pushed it.

“Words mean nothing when you’re showing the exact opposite” his words felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown at you. “If you wanted to stay with me like you say, we wouldn’t be having this argument right now”.

“It’s not that simple, you know that” you whispered.

He shrugged, saying nothing else as his eyes remained fixed anywhere else but in yours.

“I don’t see this conversation going anywhere anymore” you managed to quietly say, when you could no longer take the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room.

“On that we agree” he stated, taking another step back. “I’ll head back home”.

“I’ll be there once we’re done here”.

Taehyung nodded, reaching for the door and stopping once his hand was on the knob. He took a deep breath. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight”.

Your chest tightened, finding it hard to both breathe and speak, but you managed to do so nevertheless. “What’s the point of me going back home then?”

“Don’t you have clothes to pack?” his head turned to you.

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I can manage with what I have here”.

“Right. You can manage” his jaw tensed, the same way his hand tensed around the doorknob. “Stay here then”.

And without another word, he left.

638 notes · View notes

lady-literature · 3 years

Text

Found Family

holy shit did this one get way out of hand. Don’t expect them all to be this long because hot damn this is a monster compared to literally everything else but it just wouldn’t stop

(should I have expected this? probably. we all know how I am about found family.)

anyway enjoy 4.5k words ig

based on this post | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

***

When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them—if any at all.

She was here to earn credit for her business degree.

Instead, she has… well. She thinks she’s been somehow inducted into the Wayne family, mostly on accident and kind of as a joke.

That is, until it very much wasn’t.

***

Her first mistake, she supposes, was being too good at her job.

Marinette is an old hand at keeping track of multiple moving parts and riding herd on stubborn people who’d otherwise be too distracted or goofing off. (She was the Court’s leader for more than just being the latest in a long line of Ladybugs, after all.)

After the first two days shadowing Selina—“please, darling. Ms Kyle is so formal”—and learning the broad strokes of the job, Marinette felt confident enough to dig her nails in and get to work. Selina spent most of her time dedicated to international tasks and arranging Monsieur Waynes’ private affairs—all of which was highly classified and not discussed with Marinette—so she turned her attention to inter-company affairs.

Her first order of business was personally meeting with as many people in managerial positions as she could get. Not a requirement for the job per se, but these were people she’d have to interact with often and Maman had always stressed the importance of building connections in the workplace.

“People,” she would say, “are far more willing to do what you want them to when you’ve endeared yourself to them.”

So Marinette takes that advice and spends her breaks and lunches charming employees and giving baked goods to security guards and learning the names of the cleaning crew. She doesn’t speak to the department heads, because Selina handles their correspondences, but everyone else is free game as far as she’s concerned.

She becomes a well-recognized face astoundingly quickly.

***

Marinette probably should’ve seen the rumors coming.

It’s common practice in not only the Wayne family, but in most business conglomerates, for the children to quickly rise through the ranks of their company—if not just handed a high position right off the bat.

It took barely a month before the eldest was all but running Human Resources, and the second was placed as Head of Security practically out of nowhere. Monsieur Drake is the youngest (and most terrifyingly calculated) CEO to ever hold Wayne Enterprises, even if he does share the title with his father.

The other three are still too young or have yet to express an interest in the company, but people say it’s only a matter of time.

The track record speaks for itself, even if Marinette wishes it didn’t.

As a girl who’d come mostly out of nowhere and found herself with far more divisive sway in the company than she had any right to, it’s no wonder everyone thinks she’s some sort of secret Wayne finally coming out of hiding.

Marinette had nearly choked on her coffee when Selina dropped the bomb of that particular tidbit of company gossip.

“Most think you’ve been unofficially adopted,” Selina tells her, looking far too amused for Marinette’s liking. “Seeing as you’re too old for official avenues now.”

Marinette looks up warily from the schedule she’s rearranging. Selina had all but shoved the thing at her a month ago when she started suggesting more efficient ways of managing the CEOs’ valuable time.

“Only most? Does that mean the rest have common sense?”

Selina’s grin widens even further, if that’s possible, and Marinette regrets her question even before the older woman starts speaking.

“Oh, of course not!” she laughs delightedly. “The rest are hoping to hear news of wedding bells. It’s high time someone swept a Wayne off the market, don’t you think?”

***

“So you’re the new little sister I keep hearing about.”

Marinette stares up through narrowed eyes at the brightly smiling Dick Grayson. In her stomach, there are already the beginnings of resignation starting to form.

“It’s nice to finally meet you!”

This man is going to bring her nothing but trouble. She can tell.

***

Dick takes a liking to her. And she, against her better judgment, finds herself doing the same to him.

It’s a little hard not to, if she’s being honest. He’s bright and bubbly and brings her bagels during his morning break without her ever having asked.

It takes practically no time at all before Marinette considers him a friend, relaxing when he’s near and laughing openly at his ridiculous jokes. Despite being the head of HR, he’s not great at the whole ‘professional’ thing and often employees will walk by to find him draped across a chair or balancing precariously on the edge of her desk while she tries and fails to get some work done while he’s around.

It really doesn't help all of the ‘Marinette is a Wayne’ rumors running around. Especially when Dick starts pointedly calling her every variation of ‘little sister’ that he can think of just to annoy her (and, she knows, because he thinks the entire situation hilarious).

***

Three weeks after befriending Dick, Selina all but shoves her into Monsieur Drake’s office and, in no uncertain words, says, “He’s your problem now.”

Marinette blinks at what she can describe as nothing other than a disaster area and just… sighs.

Tim blinks back at her.

The motion is somehow both completely blank and filled with an uncomfortable amount of knowing at the same time. There is also, she notices, a frankly ludicrous amount of concealer caked beneath his eyes and more coffee cups scattered on every flat surface than Marinette has ever seen in her life.

She knows his schedule like the back of her hand seeing as she spends hours of her day pouring over it to make sure everything runs smoothly. He has no prior engagements for the next three hours.

“You’re not going to take a nap just because I ask, are you?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

She nods, having expected the answer; her phone was already at her ear before he even finished speaking. “Hey, Dick!” she greets, sounding brighter than she feels at the moment, and watches as Tim stiffens in front of her. “Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you’re busy right now.” She pauses. “Oh, good! Can you come up to Tim’s office for me? Yeah, I need you to knock him out so I can fix his dumpster fire of an office.”

Tim has since started waving his hands frantically at her, panic setting in behind his eyes.

Marinette stares at him, unmoved. “Thanks, Dick! You’re the best!”

The silence after she hangs up is deafening.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by the ease you’re manipulating me or pissed off that you’re doing it in the first place.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Does your decision have any bearing on my future employment?”

His eyes squint. “…No.”

Marinette shrugs, mind already whirling with what she’ll need to get done first and calculating how long she’ll likely have to get it done. “Then I think you should skip right over both of those and land on resignation as quickly as possible, Monsieur, because you’re going to have to get used to it regardless.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and she worries for just a second that she’s severely crossed some sort of line. Then Tim bursts out laughing instead of, you know, firing her like he probably should have.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit right in here.”

Marinette doesn’t ask where the ‘here’ is. She’s pretty sure she already knows.

***

It takes ten days for Marinette to wrangle Tim’s life into something resembling order. His office is clean and organized to his liking. She’s developed a system of filing so that all paperwork goes through her and is quickly sorted into ‘can be handled by Marinette’, ‘forge his signature and tell him about it later’, and ‘actually important enough to have Tim read through’.

His schedule is the most efficient it’s ever been and Marinette is quickly honing the skill of getting him properly dressed and out of his office in under thirty minutes. (Dick is, thankfully, a great teacher and has little to no qualms about giving her the key to all his little brother’s weaknesses.)

Selina stares at her when Marinette all but drags Tim from his office, a folder tucked neatly under his arm and the sugary monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage she’s bribed him with in her own, with a whole ten minutes to spare before his meeting with the Board.

“My dear,” she says solemnly, “you are positively magic.”

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s simultaneously wrangling Tim’s hair into submission and laying his tie down flat. “You have no idea.”

***

She knows Tim is capable of professionality. She’s seen the cool facade he pulls up in front of the Board members and the kind but impersonal smile he uses on the employees of Wayne Enterprises. (He is not the Ice Prince of the Wayne family, but Marinette believes he should have some equally ruthless sounding title.) He is aloof and sharp and every inch the businessman people praise him to be.

She’s seen it. And yet…

“Monsieur. Why are all the Lexcorp contracts I gave you done in crayon?”

Tim doesn’t stop messing with his Rubix cube or even look up at her when he says, “Cause deadbeat fathers don’t deserve the respect of a pen.”

Marinette is very tired. She does not have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“Lex is a bitchass absentee dad and I live to inconvenience him.”

“What about inconveniencing me?” she all but whines. “I can’t hand him these!”

That does make Tim look up at her, eyes wide with false innocence and mouth pouting up at her. “But sister dearest, I’m your little brother. It’s my job to inconvenience you.”

Growling in frustration is probably an inappropriate reaction to the situation.

But, Marinette thinks, so is the fact that both of the Waynes she associates with regularly seem hellbent on convincing the world that she too, is a Wayne, so.

(Is this how Alya felt dealing with the twins? Cause if so, Marinette takes back every joke she ever made—little siblings are a bitch.)

***

She meets Damian without warning.

Honestly, she never really expected to meet him at all but, well.

She finds him in Monsieur Wayne’s office, sitting at his father’s desk and doing something that she thinks is vaguely illegal, but she’s not about to tell her Boss a dozen times over how to parent his children.

Damian is a near-perfect copy of his father with darker skin and calculating green eyes. There’s also a more potent aura of danger around the child than there is around his father, like Damian hasn’t yet learned how to hide behind his public persona as his father had.

Or, Marinette looks at the teen thoughtfully, perhaps he just chooses not to.

“Monsieur Wayne,” she greets. Children like to be treated like adults, she knows, and Marinette doesn’t think this one is any different. “Selina hadn’t told me you’d be in the office today.”

“I don’t run my schedule by her,” he says flatly. A response she expected considering Dick’s stories.

“Of course not,” she agrees.

He finally deigns to look up at her and something flits across his expression, too fast for her to pick up on it. “Are those for Father? Bring them here, I’ll deal with them in his absence.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s wise Monsieur.”

Damian scowls and sticks his hand out. “I’m perfectly capable of forging Father’s signature. Give them here.”

She does not move and, instead, lets her lips quirk up into the smile she’s been fighting since she stepped in here.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and she doesn't. Forgery seems exactly like the kind of skill a child who broke into the CEO’s office of a multi-billion dollar company would have. “But you’ll find that all forging of signatures has been finished for the day and that these,” she shakes the sheaf of papers lightly, “actually require your father’s attention.”

He snorts disbelievingly and it says a lot about Marinette’s life up until now that the blatant display of disrespect doesn’t piss her off but instead reminds her of Chloé and of the fact that she still needs to reschedule their spa day. It's been too long since they spent time together in person.

“Well,” she pauses and eyes the papers thoughtfully. “‘Requires’ in the sense that its information needed to trounce the Board when they start spouting off greedy bullshit about cutting corners on our humanitarian efforts. I’m not sure how much of it is actually useful for anything besides that.” She shrugs. “But homework is homework, yes?”

That gets her a thoughtful once-over. His hand lowers and he then turns back to whatever he’s messing with on his father’s computers.

“Very well,” he concedes. “Father will be back in approximately thirteen minutes. You can leave the papers and I’ll inform him of their… importance.” He smirks, but it’s more like he’s letting her in on a joke than anything else.

Marinette smiles back as she sets the folder on the desk, feeling, oddly, like she’s passed some sort of test.

***

The day after, both Dick and Tim are waiting for her with what looks like an entire bakery laid out in her workspace.

“Uh,” she says eloquently, setting her purse down on her chair because there’s not a single open space on her desk not filled with some kind of pastry. “What’s all this?”

She looks up to find neither Dick nor Tim has stopped staring at her since she walked in. “We heard you met Damian yesterday,” Dick starts warily, like he’s scared of her reaction.

The response does not abate her confusion.

“Yes, I did,” she says slowly. “That does not explain all… this.” She waves a hand, trying to encompass them as well as the state her desk is in.

The two brothers share a look.

“It’s a bribe,” Tim tells her simply and Marinette is taken aback for all of a second before her eyes suddenly narrow.

Dick cuts in hastily before she can say anything. “It’s more of an apology, really. For Damian’s behavior.”

But Marinette is confused and frustrated and just a bit offended by the apparent not-bribe at this point. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but it only does so much.

“Damain’s behavior was fine,” she tells them with measured neutrality. “You two, on the other hand, are being weird and it’s freaking me out.” She crosses her arms expectantly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Appearing from out of nowhere, Selina drapes herself along Marinette’s shoulders and snags a raspberry scone. “I do believe,” she says as if sharing a secret, “That they are trying to keep you from quitting, kitten.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Why would I quit? I like this job.”

She also likes the Waynes (in general, if not right then) and she likes Selina. The woman was a good mentor who didn’t shy away from the dirtier parts of the job and taught Marinette all she knew. (Even the bits, she noticed, that had little to nothing to do with being a personal assistant and were more likely to be found in the repertoire of a thief.

But, Marinette is in possession of her own sticky fingers and knows how to not ask questions, so. You know—curiosity killed the cat and all.)

She doesn’t voice any of that, but Selina, at least, knows it anyway. Marinette isn’t quiet about her gratitude after all.

“First meetings with the youngest Wayne don’t often go well,” Selina tells her. “In fact, I think he has a habit of making the interns cry.”

Dick makes some kind of offended noise. “Hey! He hasn’t done that since he was twelve!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs and Marinette makes a vaguely skeptical face at all three of them before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She has actual work to get done today and pastries to get rid of before she can even start.

She pats affectionately at Selina’s hand before grabbing as many boxes as she can hold. “Come on you two,” she says to the brothers. “You’re going to help me hand these out to the rest of the company.”

Dick immediately starts doing as told but Tim hesitates, humming thoughtfully. “You know that’s not going to help your whole ‘I’m not actually a Wayne’ thing, right?”

She glares at him. It doesn’t stop Tim from grinning like the utterly unrepentant little shit he is.

***

Things are quiet after the Damian Incident for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest lull Marinette has had since she first started and became somehow involved with the Waynes.

It ends because Dick finds out about the crush Marinette has been nursing on the Head of Security for three months now.

The Head of Security who is Jason Todd: second eldest Wayne sibling and Dick’s brother.

He takes it better than expected.

(Almost, she thinks later, a little too well.)

***

Despite her friendship with Dick and Tim—or perhaps because of it?—Jason had never seemed very interested in her. At first, Marinette had shrugged and counted it as a win; there was one Wayne, at least, who neither found her situation funny nor used it to poke fun at her.

They were on friendly terms, she supposed. Security has always been one of her more regular stops in the building, so she’d spoken to him often enough. He liked complaining that she spoiled his team rotten with all her treats.

But she also noticed that he likes her cherry danishes, so.

And then she noticed how crooked his grin was when he smiled. And how he seemed to have an arsenal of nicknames for everyone he knew. And the small collection of classic romance novels filled with sticky notes he tries and fails to hide in his desk. And, and, and.

It was around the time she began unconsciously memorizing his schedule based on when he was and was not there for her pastry deliveries, that she realized she may have made a misstep somewhere.

Jason was stubborn and passionate and flipped between overly proper and crass light a damn light switch. He was also, as stated, very much not interested in her.

Not that she would’ve pursued him anyway. He was a coworker as well as her friends’ brother.

Now if only one of said brothers could understand that.

“You should ask him out,” Dick suggests not for the first time and Marinette sighs, also not for the first time.

She loves Dick—she truly does—but he has been an aggravating level of unhelpful since he found out about Marinette’s latest romantic disaster.

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

Dick groans, like she’s being the unreasonable one. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I don’t like embarrassing myself?” she asks rhetorically. “Not everyone can have a fairy tale romance like you and Wally.”

He throws his coffee stirrer at her. “We are not a fairy tale.”

She shoots him a flat look. She’s heard Dick talk about Wally and Tim’s told her all the stories and she was there when he and Wally finally got their shit together. Dick was unbearable for an entire week with his gooey, lovestruck new lease on life.

“You two are the definition of fairy tale. You two make fairy tales look like trashy romance novels.”

He opens his mouth to argue the point before forcibly cutting himself off. “No. Stop distracting me. We’re not talking about that; we’re talking about you and Jason.”

“There is no ‘me and Jason’,” she reminds him through her clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” he says optimistically. Like it’s a fact, like he knows something she doesn’t.

He makes her want to slam her face into a wall. Truly, he does.

***

Dick stops running his HR papers up to her office. Instead, he’s somehow convinced Jason to play errand boy for him even though he literally never looks happy about it. What used to be a flimsy excuse for Dick to slack off for a few minutes and gossip with her has now turned into awkward silence as Jason drops off the papers and leaves without even a ‘hello’.

During their shared breaks, Dick takes to orchestrating ‘chance encounters’ between her and Jason, all but shoving them into each other (and even actually shoving that one time). She catches Jason shooting dark looks at Dick every time he does it, and if she’d been holding any iota of hope at this point, it’s been smashed to dust. Jason obviously knows of his brother’s meddling and isn’t happy about it.

But Dick just can’t take the hint.

Every failed plan of his makes him steadily worse about it all—more frantic and frustrated and like he wants to strangle her for her stubbornness. (The last feeling being more than mutual.)

Dick’s meddling starts to make her and Jason’s previously friendly, if distant, relationship awkward and embarrassing. With every pointed comment, she gets closer to just punching Dick in the face. Or, maybe, she’ll just tell Wally who really ate all the chocolate strawberry macaroons she made; it’d certainly be more devastating.

***

It all comes to head on a Thursday, after most employees have left for the day.

They run into each other in a breakroom, and she watches as Jason suddenly goes stiff, eyes flicking over her shoulder to no doubt scan for Dick. That single action makes her expression sour and she slams her empty mug down with more force than was necessary.

For Kwamis sake, he looks like a cornered animal. An image not helped by the way he jumps a foot in the air and stares at her like he’s worried she’ll suddenly lunge at him.

“Can we agree this is ridiculous?” she says abruptly. “I don’t know what Dick is trying to accomplish with his wingman schtick, but we both know it’s not going to work. Can we just… agree that he’s an idiot?”

A complicated look crosses Jason’s face before he snorts wryly. “Yeah, we can agree on that. Dickie-boy has always been a few sandwiches short a picnic.”

“I know things have been awkward between us lately, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope we can keep being friends?” she says hopefully.

“What in the world do you have to be sorry about?” he asks before she can start catastrophizing about the bewildered expression he makes at her words. “It’s not your fault.”

The smile she shoots him is rueful and she shakes her hand in an ‘ehh’ type gesture. “Kinda is. And I understand if the-” she makes a vague gesture between them that she hopes properly conveys ‘my giant, stupid crush on you’, “you know, is too much for you. Just say the word I’ll try and keep out of your way.”

She’s trying to be comforting or understanding or something like that, but all her words seem to do is make him upset. “Absolutely not,” he insists. “Sunshine, you are not going to change your routine just to make me feel better.”

Marinette crosses her arms, frowning up at him. “Why shouldn’t I? If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uncomfort- Marinette. ” She jolts a bit at the use of her name. She doesn’t think he’s used it since her second week at W.E. “I’m not sure who made you think otherwise—and if it was Dick just tell me cause I’ll kick his ass —but barring the fact that I still enjoy your friendship regardless of any… feelings-” Marinette concentrates very hard on not showing emotion when he says that, “-it’s not your responsibility to deal with it.”

Okay, but… that makes no sense. Of course her feelings were her responsibility, that’s the whole point of them being hers.

“If it’s not mine, then whose responsibility is it then?” she asks, wondering where the hell his train of thought is running.

“Mine, obviously.”

She gives him a look, complete with narrowed eyes and thinly veiled judgment. “What? Is this some kind of gentleman’s martyr complex? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Jason huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “If me taking responsibility for my own damn feelings is a martyr complex then sure,” he snarks, not unkindly. More like he’s trying to protect himself by retreating behind a sour attitude.

Her mouth is halfway around a retort when his words catch up to her brain and she freezes.

“Your feelings?” she repeats. “Your feelings for… me?”

His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “Those would be the ones.”

Her mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You like me? Seriously?”

His face spasms at the question, starting at anger before he properly looks at her and the surprised expression on her face. He pales.

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” she squeaks, something she hasn’t done since she was fifteen. “Well Dick said but I didn’t believe him!”

And fuck, she thinks. This means Dick knew the whole damn time, didn’t he? Oh, she is so going to kill him the second she gets the chance.

Jason runs a hand down his face, covering his mouth as he gathers his bearings. Suddenly, his eyes shoot back open and land on her. “Wait. If you didn't know, then what the hell were you talking about just now?”

She blushes to the tips of her ears and buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look at him. It was easy when she thought he’d figured it out himself. It’s harder now that she has to tell him. “I- I was talking about my crush on you.”

He’s quiet for so long that she gets antsy and peeks out from behind her fingers to see his expression. He’s still looking at her, but now there’s a wide, crooked smile on his face. The expression softens something in her chest and she lowers her hands.

“Really?” he asks, leaning closer.

Marinette nods, feeling a small smile spread across her lips.

He jolts forward, hands reaching for her before suddenly stopping just shy of touching. She startles a bit at the motion but doesn’t move away.

Jason licks his lips, smile smaller but no less bright. “I- can I?”

She blinks. “Can you what?”

“Kiss you.”

The blush returns full force, but with it also comes a smile, giddy and bright. She nods and no sooner than she does, is he swooping down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. His hands cup her face with a tenderness that makes her smile, makes her giddy, and it’s not long before they’re both smiling too wide to actually kiss and are forced to break apart.

His hands fall to her back, practically engulfing her, and his chin drops onto her head. It’s warm and cozy and she thinks she could so very easily get used to this.

Later, they’re going to have to deal with Dick and Tim and Selina and the teasing they’ll no doubt have to endure—not to mention how much worse the rumors are going to get—but right now? Right now Marinette pulls Jason back down for another kiss and very pointedly doesn’t think about it.

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #mlb x dc #jasonette #my typewriter #platonic dickinette #platonic timari

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 3 years

Text

Aberration - Chapter 1

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.3k

A/N: Yay, here’s the first chapter of my new AU! It might be a little slower at first but it’ll pick up the further we get into it. So I hope you like this!

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist/Character profiles

~~~

In this world, mutations, renamed as ‘Quirks’, are abnormal. Only about 5%-8% of the world population are known to have these so called ‘Quirks’. You are a graduate of one of the most prestigious science tech schools in the country. You’ve been selected to work for a secret scientific research facility that houses some of the most notorious criminals in the nation. Besides their crimes, what makes these individuals incredibly dangerous are their mutations. After meeting these individuals, they seem to have taking a liking to you. That should make your research and search for the cure all that much easier…

Right?

~~~

Before you stands one of the largest facilities you have ever seen. You take a deep breath, attempting to calm your rapidly beating heart. Adjusting the strap on your bag, you make your way into the research center.

Upon entering, you gasp in wonder. The inside is huge, tall pure white walls that meet at a double paned glass ceiling. In front of you is a wall of security, stretching to accommodate the vast interior of the lobby. You walk up to the nearest security officer and give them your information. Thankfully, you were on a list and after checking you over, you're granted entrance to the building.

That's where you meet a man and a woman, both dressed in white lab coats and carrying clipboards. You bow your head to the two of them and they return the gesture.

"Ms. Y/N, I presume? My name is Shota Aizawa and this is my assistant, Momo Yaoyorozu." The older of the two speak.

You smile at the two. "Yes, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N, L/N, graduate of UA science tech. I am so happy to be here and look forward to working with the two of you."

The younger girl nods and smiles, gesturing behind the two of them. "If you would kindly follow us, we can get started."

~~~

"Ms. Y/N, here's the list of the inmates you will be working with from this point on."

Momo hands you a clipboard containing pictures and descriptions of each individual. Your eyes scan the information on the page in front of you, your brow raising with each word you read. "There is… quite a bit of information on these individuals."

Aizawa nods. "Considering how dangerous the subjects are, it's best to have every detail we can."

You internally cringed at the term 'subject'. These were criminals, yes, but they were still living breathing people. Noone deserves to be dehumanized, no matter the reason.

Shaking your head of those thoughts, you continue to look over the notes in your hands. One in particular catches your eye. " 'Multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity' and yet he's only deemed as a level 4 danger?"

The doctor looks over your shoulder at the character profile. "Ah, yes. Fumikage Tokoyami. He's an interesting one, to say the least." You wait for him to continue, but seeing as it doesn't seem like he will, you gesture for him to elaborate. "Tokoyami himself is actually fairly harmless and incredibly cooperating, which is why he gets a level 4 only. However…" Aizawa looks down the hall of the facility to a door near the end. "Dark Shadow is deemed a level 9."

Your eyes shoot up in shock. "Dark Shadow? A level 9? Explain."

"Dark Shadow is his mutation. It's a completely sentient being that he harbors inside of him. Highly dangerous, more so if there is darkness." He looks back at you. "I'll let him explain the reason why he was instituted. He always prefers to explain the story himself."

The more Aizawa explains Tokoyami's situation, the more your excitement builds up, wanting desperately to meet this man. This was such an interesting mutation and you couldn't wait to hear everything he had to tell you. You take a breath to calm your childish manner and clear your throat.

"If it's alright with you, sir, I'd like-" You look down at your clipboard once again. "'Inmate 06' to be the first one I meet with."

Aizawa nods and writes something down in his notebook. "Very well. Follow me this way please."

You follow the doctor down the long white hallway, your excitement growing with each step. Along the way, you notice each door on the facility that lines either side of the stretched hall. Each door had a narrow window towards the top and a small number engraved underneath. You don't take too much notice and keep following the doctor to your destination. However, an eerie feeling makes you freeze in your tracks.

You slowly rotate your head and look at the inmate's door you stopped next to. The color drains from your face as you see two ice blue eyes peering right into yours. It felt like your breath was stolen, a hint of fear and anxiety built up within you from this intense gaze. After what felt like hours, you snap your gaze back to Aizawa and Momo, who were standing in front of a door you were also supposed to be at.

"I would highly advise you to keep cautious while you are in this facility. While we keep all inmates in cuffs that neutralize their mutations, the technology has not been 100% perfected yet and parts of their powers may leak out. That is why we have additional precautionary measures in place for each inmate." Aizawa gives you an impartial look as you walk over. "Now. The only special precaution with Inmate 06 is the lights must stay on at all times. There are no light switches in his cell, so nothing should go wrong. But like I said, always stay cautious."

You nod your head at the doctor's words and turn to face the door. Aizawa places a hand onto the keypad next to the door, scanning his prints before buzzing and opening the door. You give the man one last nod before making your way inside the room. The room itself is bare. White floors, white walls and an equally white ceiling. Nothing was in there except a desk with a chair and a bed.

On top of that bed sat a young man with the body of a human and the head of a crow. Your eyes widen in awe at the beautiful being in front of you. Tokoyami tilts his head and gives you a curious look.

"Oh. Hello, there. I've never seen you before."

The deep voice of the man shocks you. You bow your head and give the bird man a smile. "Hello, Tokoyami. My name is Y/N. I'm the new scientist at this facility. I'm here to get to know and observe you all to help further our findings for a cure. I hope we can be friends."

Tokoyami blinks. "You want to be… friends? With us?"

"Yeah, of course. Why not?" Your smile never leaves your face.

"Well, maybe because we're all… felons? The greater majority of us being murderers?"

"I truly believe everyone deserves a second chance." You gesture to the desk chair, silently asking if you could sit. The man nods and you greatly take your seat. "Now, would you ever be so kind as to answer a few questions for me, Tokoyami? I would like to get to know you a little better." You take out your pen and notebook, opening to a fresh page.

Tokoyami nods again and you give him a smile. "Just a few standard questions first. Can you please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

"Fumikage Tokoyami, age 22, October 30th."

"What is the name of your quirk and how does it work?"

Tokoyami fiddles with the quirk-cancelling cuffs around his wrists at the mention of his quirk but answers anyway. "It's called Dark Shadow. It's a fully sentient shadow that resides inside my body. It can come out when I call call it or it can show itself on it's own. But it's always connected to me and cannot be separated. It…" Tokoyami takes a breath. "It gets stronger the darker my surroundings are. So the less light, the less control I have over it. If it gets too dark, it completely takes over me, no longer under my control."

The longer you listen to him, the wider your eyes get and the more they shine in wonder. "That is incredible! To have that kind of quirk is truly fascinating!"

Hearing your words of praise would have made Tokoyami blush, if he could. He clears his throat in embarrassment. "Why, thank you for those kind words. Though, I doubt having this...quirk, as you say, is all to be impressed about."

You shake your head. "You may not think so, but really, I've never seen anything like it." You excitedly write a few things down before making eye contact with him again. "Now onto my final question of the day. Can you please tell me the reason why you are here?"

Tokoyami stays silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, residing in his thoughts. You clear your throat and he looks up to you. You give him a small, comforting smile and it causes Tokoyami's heart to beat harder. For some unknown reason, he suddenly feels like he can trust you with anything.

"I've been charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder." He sighs, recalling that day. "I was invited to a college party on a date, by someone whom I had grown quite infatuated with. I never really was one to socialize and never really had any friends. But I really liked this person, so I went. At first it was going okay, nothing too out of the ordinary. Then, the host decided that playing truth or dare was the way to go.

So my date dragged me to sit down and join them. Every time I was asked, I always chose truth. And everytime, their questions were about my appearance, my mutation. Laughing at all my answers, mocking my looks, talking about how unnatural I was. The more they asked, the more my anxiety and anger built up. But my stubbornness didn't want to show any weakness, so I stayed.

Finally, I decided to just choose dare instead. At that point, I decided that nothing could be more humiliating than what they've already done." His sharp, red eyes flickered to yours. "Oh, how wrong I was. They dared me to go into the closet with my so-called 'date'. We were shut in and from then, they decided to tell me how this whole thing was a set up, just to humiliate me. That anyone with mutations like myself should just disappear because of how disgusting we are." He spits out that word like it was rotten food. "Remember how I said Dark Shadow gains control in the dark? Well, with my anger rising and the fact that it was almost pitch black in that closet, I lost control of myself and Dark Shadow took control of me. Next thing I remember, I was standing in the middle of the college dorm party, blood painting the floors, the walls, and the entirety of my class slaughtered."

You almost dropped your pen in shock but regained your composure. You give the poor young man a sad smile. He sighs and finishes off his explanation. "I was arrested and charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity, considering I was technically not in my right state of mind at the time."

The two of you sit there in silence, basking in all this new-found information. You close your notebook and set your pen down, facing Tokoyami directly. "Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with the way you look or your quirk. Just because it isn't the societal norm, doesn't mean it's disgusting or wrong. Remember that."

Tokoyami blinks in surprise."Um, thank you." Those were the only words he could say, as how shocked he was at what you said.

You tilt your head and stare at him. "If I may ask, would I be able to feel your head? I'm very curious as to what your feathers feel like. It would greatly help my research as well."

"Oh. U-um, yeah. Sure."

You move to gently sit next to Tokoyami, so as to not startle him too much. You slowly lift your hand and place it on his head, eyes lighting up as you card your fingers through his feathers. "Oh wow, they're so soft!"

Tokoyami's heart speeds up, his feathers ruffling at your touch. He gazes at you with something akin to admiration. No one was ever gentle with him like this before. After another few seconds, you retreat your hand, Tokoyami almost whimpering at the absence.

"Well, I better get going. I have quite a few more things to do today before my shift is over." You gather up your things and bow your head at the half bird boy. "I greatly appreciate your time and look forward to our future sessions. Have a good rest of your day!" You smile at Tokoyami before heading back to the door and signaling Aizawa to open it.

"Goodbye, Ms. Y/N. I look forward to meeting with you again." Tokoyami watches you leave his room. Once you're gone, he runs his hand through his feathers, imagining they were your fingers.

As the door closes, you turn to Aizawa who gives you a disappointed look.

"What?"

"You touched the inmate. Why in the hell would you do that?"

You place your hand on your hip and give the doctor a stern look. "I was curious about his mutation and wanted to see how it felt."

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. "We try to avoid any physical contact with any of the inmates, as it may trigger something deep within them. Remember, Y/N. Every single one of these individuals are dangerous and unstable. Any abnormal behavior could result in catastrophic consequences."

You sigh and shake your head, giving him a chaste nod. "Yes, Sir. You're right. I promise to heed your warning and modify how I work."

The doctor looks satisfied as he turns on his heel and walks further down the long hallway. You quickly follow to keep up. "Now, on to your next subject. Inmate 04, Eijiro Kirishima." You flip the page of your inmate profiles to see a picture of a red-haired man. "He is of a higher danger level, so make sure to keep your guard up. And for the love of God, under any circumstances…

Do not touch him."

~~~

Taglist: @theblueslytherin @sterassion @somechick30003 @meena-in-a-nutshell @justtj-andnonumberspls @zombieonna @amajikiwife @yulifee @atexansadventureintokinkandlife @ep-ip-ha-ny @hcneymilkks @pastelmoonwitche @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @railmeddy @unlimitedfirepheonix @confaegion @drownedbytears @burntcrips @silverqueenie @the-lady-writes-what @awkward-confused

[If your name is bolded, I was unable to tag you.]

#mha #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha angst #yandere midoriya #yandere bakugou #yandere todoroki #yandere kirishima #yandere kaminari #yandere tokoyami #yandere shinso #yandere amajiki #yandere hawks #yandere dabi #yandere overhaul #bakuhoesdumbass #bakuhoes-dumbass

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chocominnie · 3 years

Text

One Last Time 02 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01

⇢ Word Count :

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots.

A missed call from your uncle.

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb. She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong.

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

“You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’. As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.”

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “ You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears.

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead. A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door. You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

333 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter.

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area.

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major.

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it.

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing.

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it.

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security.

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger.

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on.

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency.

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid.

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head.

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.”

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed.

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point.

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint.

It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’.

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred.

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you.

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head.

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him.

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off.

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.”

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded.

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.”

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.”

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.”

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off.

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback.

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking.

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind.

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years.

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry.

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you.

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself.

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free.

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots.

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song.

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.”

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it.

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence.

“I’m sorry about your family, man.”

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body.

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you.

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously.

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward.

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood.

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him.

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.”

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him.

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.”

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly.

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder.

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance.

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.”

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply.

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you.

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser.

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse.

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you.

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.”

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.”

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery.

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

Next part

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol. 2 Sakamaki Shuu [Track 5 + Epilogue]

Original title: 愛しうる限り & エピローグ

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 2 Sakamaki Shuu

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke

Translator’s note: This CD really did deliver near the very end and tugged onto my heartstrings BIG TIME. Shuu being honest with myself and realizing just how much he loves the MC is honestly one of my favorite things in the world. ;w; He definitely solidified himself as nr. 2 in my heart once more. (Sorry Shuu, Subaru will forever be number one. <3)

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

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Track 5: As Long as our Love Lasts

Shuu is playing the violin again.

( At some point, I grew tired of counting, or even thinking about how many times I had played the same song, or how many days - or perhaps even months - had passed since she fell into a deep slumber. )

*Snap*

“Oh...The string...I haven’t taken care of this thing for a while, so I guess this was bound to happen. ...In the end, my song never reached you, huh?”

*Thud*

He walks over to the bed.

“I’ve honestly seen enough...of this never-changing expression. I wish I could have seen a glimpse of your past self for one last time, but I guess it can’t be helped.”

He takes a seat.

*Rustle*

“I’m sure you’re aware, but I always hated being waken up from my naps. Therefore, hearing your approaching footsteps was the most annoying sound in the world to me. However, having your face be the very first thing I saw when I opened my eyes after you interrupted my sleep, honestly wasn’t half bad. ...Just the fact I felt that way, means that you must have at least meant something to me.

...If you were to ask me the same question you did before, then I would probably give you the following answer. ーー You are special to me. Not because your blood is delicious. You are the only woman on this planet who I wouldn’t want to lose, even if your blood were to disappear, If only I had said these words to you back then...”

Shuu suddenly collapses onto the sheets.

*Rustle*

“...Ah...The effects are finally kicking in, huh? ...I haven’t been getting a wink of sleep as of late...So to ensure I can finally get a sound sleep...Cough, cough...”

*Cling*

“I drank a certain drug from this bottle earlier...You’re not going to wake up anyway...So you don’t mind if I sleep alongside you, right? Even if that is an eternal slumber...When you’re with me, I don’t mind. That’s just how much Iーー...”

He scoots closer.

*Smooch*

“...love you. ...Ugh...Cough, cough...Haah, haah...I finally gave you the words you’ve been dying to hear...yet you’re missing out on them...You foolish woman...Hahaha...I guess I shouldn’t say that, huh...? Ugh...”

Shuu loses consciousness.

*Shatter*

( I lost the feeling in my limbs, before my mind went blank as well and before I knew it, I was unable to think of anything. I couldn’t fight back against my heavy eyelids. Now I can finally get some rest again. ーー That’s what I thought, yet...Aah, there it is again. I can hear her voice again. Per usual, she’s calling my name as if her life depends on it. I’ve heard this voice a million times, but in the end, it’s nothing but my mind playing tricks on me. Even if I wake up, you won’t be there anyway. Therefore, I chose eternal sleep. )

*Rustle*

( You’re persistent...Guess you’re stubborn even within my dreams, huh? )

You continue to call his name.

( Oh come on...Just let me sleep... )

You persist.

( Like I said, pipe down. Don’t shout my name over and over... )

*Rustle rustle*

“Nn...Hm? ...Ugh...”

*Rustle*

“What do you want? I was having such a nice nap...”

*Rustle*

“Ah...Oh? You...are awake? So that wasn’t just a hallucination right now? Or rather, why are you crying?”

You tell Shuu you thought he had died.

“Died? ...Oh, right. Why am I alive as well? Did you do something?”

You continue to sob.

“I can’t tell when you’re bawling like that...Hm? The taste of your blood...lingers inside my mouth.”

You explain.

“...You frantically tried to feed me your blood thinking that might be able to bring me back to life? I won’t deny that my wounds heal quicker when I have your blood...but I didn’t think it could serve as an antidote as well. Your blood really is something else. Well, you still won against it though. ...Oi, I don’t mind if you’re crying, but give me a good look at your face.”

*Rustle*

“I’m asking you to move closer. My body still feels heavy, I can’t move. Come on, scoot over.”

You move closer.

“How long has it been...? I’m actually reflected in your eyes.”

Shuu embraces you.

“Haah...”

*Rustle*

“Keep still. I can’t put in much strength since my arms are still numb.”

You ask Shuu what happened.

“I’m the one who wants to know what happened. Honestly, what made you suddenly wake up? Is it because I finally genuinely admitted my own feelings...?”

You tilt your head to the side.

“You know, you’ve been asleep this whole time, remember?”

You look at him in surprisement.

“Don’t tell me, you didn’t have a clue?”

You nod.

“Well, it happened out of nowhere, so I guess it’s obvious considering you were unconscious as well. ...No, it’s fine if you don’t remember. That was a nightmare anyway.”

You ask him if it was rough.

“...Yeah.”

*Rustle*

“A lot happened...It was one hell of a ride. But right now, rather than letting you go...”

*Smooch*

“Haah...Come on, don’t get all surprised over a little kiss still. However, I don’t dislike that side of you either. When you were asleep, you wouldn’t react no matter how many times I did this after all.”

*Smooch*

“...What? Don’t panic.”

You note his behavior seems off.

“Weird? You’re the last person I want to hear that from though. I told you, remember? I went through a lot. That being said, it doesn’t matter. It’s just...I came to realize a few things.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“How you felt, for example. Or how important it is to put things into words every now and then. ...And what you mean to me, I suppose. ...I believe you woke up because I finally understood those things. Well, you don’t seem to realize that yourself though. Oh, right...I should apologize while I can. I’m sorry for acting indifferent towards you up till now. I deeply regret it. Soーー”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Please don’t get upset and fall into a slumber again, it pains me”

You tell him you never meant to do that to him.

“Even if that wasn’t your intention, it still happened. And it was much more wicked than having you lash out at me or run away from home. Not to mention it was extremely bothersome. I had to look after you 24/7, right? In that regard...you really are a handful.”

You apologize.

“Haha...You don’t need to say sorry, really. I’ve already accepted it. I’m to blame for falling in love with such a woman.”

Your eyes widen in sheer surprise.

“...What?”

You ask him to repeat himself.

“I said I love you, what about it? I said it earlier as we...Ah, right. I guess you didn’t hear me back then since you were still asleep. ...Haha, look at those rounded eyes, your face looks hilarious. ...I really do prefer seeing you like this.”

*Smooch*

“I understand you are having trouble believing me. I’ve only got myself to blame for that. However, I’m sure you’ll soon come to realize. I already had plenty regrets while you were asleep. From here on out, I’ll tell you these words until you’ll be tired of hearing them ーー How much I love you, that is.”

*Smooch*

Track 6: Epilogue

“...Hey.”

You turn around.

“You’re ogling way too much. It looks shameless, so come here.”

You run over

“Is an instrument store really that special to you?”

You nod.

“Well, I can imagine you have little affiliation with these places. When I bring up the name of a composer, you usually look at me as if I’m speaking Chinese. Although despite that, you seemed happy to visit this place.”

You explain.

“Ahー So that’s why. Honestly, it would have been much easier to just come by myself, but I’d rather not make you upset again by ignoring you.”

You smile, thanking him.

“...I see. Whatever. ...Anyway, I requested a full maintenance along with replacing the broken string, so it might take a while. We’ll get in the way if we wait here, so let’s go over there.”

The two of you move to another room.

*Creaaak*

You look around.

“It’s a test room. Customers can use this place to test out the intruments before purchase. There’s nobody here right now, so the owner said we can make ourselves comfortable.”

You ask Shuu if he plans to buy a new violin.

“No, I’m not buying anything. I like my current violin.”

You seem confused, wondering why you’re here then.

“You really are a fool, aren’t you?”

Shuu pulls you closer.

*Rustle*

“To kill some time, obviously.”

You get slightly flustered.

“It’s a perfect way to combat the boredom, no? It’s muh more comfortable than having to wander around outside. On top of that...This place is soundproof. You can scream as loud as you want, nobody will hear. I’m sure you like the sound of that as well? ーー That being said, we have to think about your health. I doubt you’re already back in top shape, so I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to.”

You hesitate.

“Hm~? In that case, you want it?”

You go quiet.

“Cat got your tongue? I seem to recall a certain someone was displeased because they were being ‘used’? Clearly tell me what you want. Right now, I can actually live up to your wishes. ...What do you want from me?”

You ask for his fangs.

“Hehe...I hate being ordered around, but hearing you beg for it isn’t bad at all. Especially when it’s the words ‘Suck my blood, please’.”

Shuu bites you.

“Mmh...Nn...I said you could make all the noise you want, remember? It’s not like anyone but me can hear.”

You get embarrassed.

“Heh. First you beg for it and now you get all embarrassed. You’re kind of contradicting yourself there, no? Well, it doesn’t matter. In that case, I’ll go for one of your more sensitive spots so you won’t be able to suppress your voice. Mmh...”

*Gulp*

“Hah...Exactly...Let me hear more...Why still hesitate at this point?”

You explain.

“You’re worrying for nothing per usual. You no longer need to be scared that I’ll find you annoying or get tired of you. Well, I won’t deny that there’s times I get a little irritated by your behavior. I’m sure I might be a little grumpy when you disturb my sleep as well.

However, I would never grow to dislike you over something like that. I already know what kind of woman you are. You’re the type to beg for my fangs in a place like this. On top of that, a loudmouth who loves to meddle with other people’s affairs and quite the handful at times. To be honest, too much of a bother to keep by one’s side.

You puff out your cheeks.

“Haha. It’s the truth, no? However, despite all of that, I don’t want to let you go. So don’t worry. Just let out your voice to your heart’s content, giving yourself over to me all you want. I’ve already decided I will love every side of you after all.”

*Smooch*

ーー THE END ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #shuu sakamaki #diabolik lovers daylight #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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geminitarotmagick · 3 years

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Full Moon Pick a Card Reading, Blackpink Edition

On this rare form of Blue Moon, take a deep breath and choose one of these four piles. Each pile holds various messages that you need to hear at this time. But remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates and discard whatever does not.

If you would like a personal reading from me, I open mini reading requests every Monday where I will answer your question with five cards. Please only ask one question per ask per week, and make sure to leave a name/nickname/initial by which to call you when leaving your reading request.

But if you'd like something more in depth, or have a more urgent question, I am also currently offering in depth personal readings. More info on how to request an in depth paid reading here.

With that said, choose the pile that calls to you, and find your messages under the cut.

Decks used: Therapets, Way of the Panda Tarot, Light Seers Tarot, Wild Unknown Animal Spirits, Shine From The Inside Oracle, Barbieri Zodiac Oracle, Oracle of the Fairies, The Deck (Custom Made Blackpink Oracle Deck)

PILE ONE:

There's some guilt that you're being called to let go of. There are situations in your past that have caused you to regret how you acted, whether it be that you didn't stand up for yourself or that you hurt someone with things that were said. These situations have been prominent in your mind recently, but it's important to understand the bigger picture here. You're called to reflect on these moments and discover what lesson you were supposed to be learning from those experiences. These things happened so that you could grow, not so that you could be stuck in guilt. Allow yourself to make peace with these situations or people in whatever way that means to you, absorb the lesson, and then release the experience.

You're being called to be kind to yourself, and be patient as life changes and evolves around you. You have strong values, and it's important to stand firm in those while also staying true to yourself and staying grounded. When you're grounded and in tune with yourself, you can move mountains, so it's important for you to really allow yourself to find that center where you can return to when things get hard. It will be much easier for you to do this when you've released the guilt and negativity that is blocking you from achieving this state of mind. Whatever situations cause you stress and anxiety when you think about them, it's time to let go of them.

Now is a good time for you to work towards setting boundaries with the people around you as well. This isn't meant to push people away from you, but it is important to establish to those around you what is ok and not ok, and for you to love yourself enough to set these limits with people. There is insecurities that you have, but remember that most people do in fact want you to let them know when things aren't ok, and the people who care about you will appreciate you doing this. Without these boundaries in place, you're kept in a place of stagnation that doesn't allow you to grow, so please realize how integral setting these boundaries really is to your growth and wellbeing.

The fear of change is normal, but it won't prevent things from shifting, so learning to embrace it is key. This stems from that patience with yourself, but it also comes from allowing yourself to live in the now and let go of the anxiety about what "could be". It's important to be honest with yourself about what is holding you back and holding you in patterns that aren't serving you. This is a great time to start working on building your self confidence and self love, but this can only be achieved after you take a hard look at yourself and honestly assess what things are helping you and what things are hindering you.

One thing that will really help you to grow with this is to celebrate your own victories. No matter how small or large they are, progress is progress, and you deserve to feel accomplished for evolving and making positive changes. Also be open to the signs around you that you're on the right track. Sometimes these signs will be big. Sometimes they'll be subtle. But know that they're always there, and they're always ready to encourage you and cheer you on.

Focus your energy on breaking free of these things holding you back, and making tough decisions. To do this, you might need to step out of your comfort zone by taking risks and doing things you consider scary, but it'll pay off. It's also important to focus on understanding not only yourself, but others, and to not let harsh emotions like anger cloud your judgment.

Lastly, your Therapets card (top middle) is provided as a source of encouragement for you. The truth is, you're far more capable than you feel.

Cards Pulled: Reverse Four of Cups, Reverse Strength, Fire, Air, Celebration, Nature's Signs, Elk, Reverse Death, Reverse Queen of Wands, Hope Not, Tune Into Your Inner Peace, "The truth is, you're far more capable than you feel."

PILE TWO:

You're being called to evaluate the situations you're in and the people you're surrounding yourself with, and to walk away from the people and situations that are no longer serving you. You have so much worth that you don't even realize because these things are weighing you down and blocking you from even realizing it. It might hurt at the moment to remove yourself from these things and people, but there are so many better things on the horizon for you, so long as you clear your energy to allow it to flow to you.

You've allowed yourself to be swayed by others opinions of you, and in doing so have allowed your own desires to be ignored. It's time for you to take your power back, and focus again on what it is that you want out of your life. It's also important to surround yourself with positive friends, and people who will encourage you following your dreams and doing things that make you happy. Take the time to focus on yourself and your own self care, and remember that it doesn't make you selfish to think about yourself. With these new friends, make sure to balance between giving to them and not burning yourself out so that this can be a more positive experience for both of you, and commit to keeping it that way.

This is a wonderful time to break out of the auto pilot mode you've put yourself into, and to put an end to that cycle. To put an end to that though, you need to be able to deal with past traumas you've been through in your life and make peace with them. This won't be easy to do, but it's necessary work to be able to move forward positively. You'll see so many blessings coming into your life when you choose to do the inner work and choose joy in the future. Make sure to have gratitude for all the things that come your way as well, as showing gratitude will make way for more positivity to continue to flow in. Let go of the past, allow yourself to trust the people in your present, set your boundaries, and allow all of that to bring to you situations that are more positive and divine.

There might even be desires of yours that you've kept hidden for so long that you don't even remember that you wanted it. Allow yourself to tap back into these desires that have remained hidden, and know that you can achieve them if you truly set your mind to it. You might not be perfect at it on the first try, but that's ok. As long as you go into it with an open mind and pure intentions, things will work out for your highest good. and work out the way they're supposed to. This is a great time for you to set goals and think about the things you want to accomplish, and allow your emotions to guide you towards setting goals that align with your dreams. Also allow yourself to listen to your intuition and that inner voice in your head. If you're drawn towards something, and it won't cause you any harm, then go for it.

Lastly, your Therapets card (top middle) is provided as a source of encouragement for you. You're not going to succeed at everything you do, and that's okay.

Cards pulled: Reverse Knight of Pentacles, Ten of Swords, Saturn, Moon, Lost and Found, Pure Intentions, Starfish, Nine of Cups, Reverse Nine of Wands, See U Later, Commit to Self Care Rituals, "You're not going to succeed at everything you try, and that's okay."

PILE THREE:

It's so important for you to remember that you don't need to have everything figured out all the time. Life isn't as serious as you're making it out to be right now, and you're just causing yourself unnecessary stress. Allow yourself to actually live life, not just worry about life. Your past is holding you down right now. It's important for you to do some inner child work so that you can rise from the ashes of your past and move forward. This is a great time to let go of the baggage that's weighing you down, and let yourself move forward feeling lighter.

It's time for you to let go of these burdens, and allow yourself to rest and relax. This is a time for deep healing, if you allow yourself to do the work and feel the feelings. Doing that will help you to get realigned with yourself and find the emotional release that you've been needing.

You're confined to your comfort zone right now, but growth exists outside of it. So push yourself to try new things, have new experiences and think new thoughts. It's okay to start small, but remember you can't grow if you stay in the same place, so keep moving forward and keep pushing yourself.

You might be called to help others during this time as well, and you might find healing though helping others to find their healing. It'll help you to find your own self worth and remember just how special you are as well. You're not paying attention to your inner voice right now, and it's time to listen to it and think about what it is that you want, and allow your intuition to guide you.

Be receptive to the world around you, and allow it to inspire you to heal. There is hope on the horizon for you. You just need to allow it to find its way to you. Find the bright side of your situation, and hold onto that glimmer of light, and allow it to grow into a bigger and bigger light. You have the ability to change a negative situation into a positive one if you hold onto the light.

Allow yourself to feel the joy that feels most authentic to you. It's important to focus on what feels most authentic to yourself, but be patient with yourself as you do this. Keep the hope and the faith that you will find yourself, even if it takes more time than you'd initially like for it to.

Lastly, your Therapets card (top middle) is provided as a source of encouragement for you. You are going to get through this just fine.

Cards pulled: The Star, Eight of Cups, Jupiter, Sagittarius, Inspiration, Hope, Phoenix, Four of Pentacles, Reverse High Priestess, Forever Young, Step Out of Your Comfort Zone and Try Something New, "You are going to get through this just fine."

PILE FOUR:

This is a very successful time for you, so remember to celebrate your wins. It doesn't matter how big or small they are. Allow yourself to revel in the feelings of success or satisfaction, because acknowledging those feelings will allow more of it to flow to you.

You might be finding yourself at a crossroads in life, and you might be trying to rationalize which path you should take. Drown out all the noise, and allow your intuition to guide you. If you really take the time to stop and listen, you'll find that you know what choice you should make already. Don't judge yourself for being unsure tho, and don't judge yourself for wanting to make a decision that others might not consider to be the "right" one. Those people are not you. You have to do what's right for you, and show yourself love and patience for having the courage to make that choice. Others opinions of what you choose to do does not matter.

You're a very caring person, and you wear your heart on your sleeve sometimes, and there's no shame in that. Allow that to be a strength and not a weakness, and let that propel you into manifesting the things you desire. You're moving towards even more success, so don't doubt yourself.

This is a time for creativity for you, so allow those ideas to flow through you and to you. You'll be opened up to new paths and new relationships with this, so allow the abundance to flow to you, and allow yourself to take this path with empathy, both towards yourself and towards the people who come into your life. Don't allow yourself to get overwhelmed and get cold. Your heart is your greatest asset. Allow it to stay open, despite what might happen.

Use nature to help you find your center during this time, and use it as a way to find peace when things get stressful. There's a lot of positive change coming to your life. Don't fear it. Embrace it, and embrace all of your wonderful manifestations. But if you find yourself feeling out of balance, allow yourself to take a walk or take a break in nature to help yourself get grounded again.

This is a great time to work on what you consider your own personal freedom. Big change is coming to you, and you're allowed to change as a person as well. Allow your self confidence to build as these changes come your way, and assess what things feel right to you as things shift. Once again, it's important to be patient with yourself, but it's also important to remember that you do have control of some things. Issues surrounding your personal identity and how you express yourself might come up during this time, so allow yourself to work through that and to give yourself the time you need to find what's right for you and to heal what isn't.

Lastly, your Therapets card (top middle) is provided as a source of encouragement for you. You're not going to succeed at everything you do, and that's okay.

Cards pulled: Knight of Cups, Eight of Wands, Sun, Uranus, Manifestation, Go Outside, Tarantula, The Empress, Ace of Cups, How You Like That, Stop Judging and Start Loving, "You need to give yourself time to heal, no matter how long that ends up being."

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bvidzsoo · 3 years

Text

Late night Drifts

Author: bvidzsoo

Warning: physical abuse (nothing descriptive); swearing

Pairing: Hansol Vernon Chwe x female reader

Word count: 18, 157

Summary: Being top of your class was everything your parents have ever wanted. You were the perfect daughter, however, it was only them who were happy. Your life was stressful and filled with sleepless nights studying, just to please your parents. Until one day you discovered racing, and realized, it was the only way you could unwind all the accumulated stress. And it just so happened that one day you overheard your classmate, Vernon, talking about an illegal race taking place that night. You knew it was your cue, so with rolled up cash left on his desk, you made it clear you were challenging him. He wins = he gets a date / You win = he teaches you how to drift.

A/N: Hello, hello lovelies! And off we go with the first part of this series! I tried out something different this time, I hope it’s not weird and it’s still good, I’m a little nervous about it tbh. All the sentences in italic are the reader’s direct thoughts! I’ve never written in second person before so uhm...I hope it’s still fine. I hope you’ll like it and please let me know your thoughts. If there are people interested, I could even start a Taglist, I guess! Enjoy now!

Series M.List ~ Next Part

When younger, you’d quietly complain to yourself about having to wake up early in the morning, around 6 am, just to have breakfast with your parents; but as the years passed it just became a routine. You weren’t bothered by it anymore, sometimes, you’d even wake up earlier than you were supposed to. Like today, at 5:30 am, your eyes were wide open as you stared up at the platinum white ceiling of your huge bedroom. You knew it was the anxiety making you feel like this, the fear of having to face your father and mother today seemed to be more intense than usually, after all, you were getting your grading sheet at school. You hated days like today, you hated getting your grades. It was horror to sit through school, anxious, only to return home to get yelled at by your father, because once again, you failed to score higher at English than Vernon. Vernon Hansol Chwe. He was your nightmare at school. It wasn’t what he did directly to you, because there were almost little to no incidents, it’s what he indirectly made you go through. You hated him, but didn’t at the same time. It wasn’t his fault, and you were aware of that, but you couldn’t help the glare or sudden anger that engulfed you whenever you looked at him. If he only wasn’t as good at English as he was, all the torment from your parents would’ve been non-existent.

You were the perfect daughter, the one every parent wished to have and every parent praised whenever they met up with your parents and you. You were perfect, in their eyes, yes. You always listened to what your parents said, you didn’t talk back or disobeyed them, and most importantly, you always pleased them and got high grades. It would’ve been a shame if you didn’t, your father was a scientist and your mother a doctor. They wanted you to become either this or that, but you, you didn’t know. You had no idea what you actually liked doing, you never really had hobbies or free time to try out different things like any other normal kid did while growing up. That is, until, you stumbled upon some abandoned race tracks and saw a woman in her car going at a high speed, drifting around the curbs, and sporting the happiest and most careless expression you’ve ever seen on someone’s face. It struck you, you never felt like that before. You wanted to feel like that so badly. You just ran away from home, with the excuse that you joined a new study group to help you out with Chemistry, but the truth was that you just needed air and time away from your overwhelming parents. You weren’t even supposed to be in this part of the city, people could smell from miles away that you were rich and just by stealing your purse, they’d make millions. But you didn’t care, because in this part of the city, it seemed like people only stared at your for what you looked like, without too judgmental looks on their faces. It was weird, but refreshing. After the woman stopped, got out of the car and ruffled her long hair, you gathered all your courage and walked up to her, and asked her to take you on a round with herself. She was reluctant, but once she saw the desperate look in your eyes, she obliged and you were inside her car, screaming your lungs out at all the sharp and harsh turns she took. It was scary, but freaking awesome. You felt high on adrenaline and when she stopped the car, her name being Lexa, you begged her to teach to drive like that. Your driving instructor never taught you about speed, but this woman seemed to know it all. Lexa was reluctant, but she complied once again, when she saw the desperate look in your eyes. And that is how you became obsessed with racing, cars, and chasing that adrenaline that made you feel free and careless. It was the only hobby you had, the only thing your parents couldn’t control in your life, simply, because they didn’t know about it. And you preferred to keep it that way, knowing well the repercussions if they ever found out. But for you to be able to attend the events and races, you needed a good car. So, when you finished last year as first in your whole high school, your father granted your wish and bought you a Vaydor G37. The car was expensive, but freaking awesome. You knew you’d be better than half of the amateur racers, even though, you were one too. But for now, that didn’t matter, as you played with your fingers in your lap, waiting for the maid to place your breakfast in front of you. You could feel your father’s sharp gaze on you, but you ignored it as you glared at the table. Your mother hadn’t joined the table yet, that’s why you weren’t eating yet.

“John told me he had to change the tires to the Vaydor,” You looked up to meet your father’s gaze, knowing he hated it when you didn’t, “It’s the third time this month. Explain.”

You gulped, but kept your expression neutral, he can’t find out, “I didn’t pay attention when I got them changed and instead of the summer tires, they put on the winter ones. That was the first time. Second time, I got a puncture while I rode back home from school, a screw was left on the road from the new construction site and I didn’t know. And uhm…I’m not sure what was wrong the third time, but the vibrations coming from the tires felt wrong, I thought…it would be best to get them changed.” But the truth was that you raced too hard and burned out your tires, all adherence gone, which made it impossible for you to ride around the streets with them.

Your father didn’t say anything as he looked at you with a hard expression, tying to decipher if you were lying or saying the truth, “Safety comes first, Y/N, don’t forget that.”

“Yes, father.” You muttered and looked up at your mother as she walked in with a wide smile. Your father looked at her and his eyes instantly turned soft and he waited until she sat next to him, to press a kiss to her cheek. He was only ever like that to her, kind and lovely, never to you. You honestly thought your father hated you because you weren’t born to be a boy, like he so desperately wanted. Yet, he never tried to have another child with your mother, you figured he had enough of you and just didn’t want to bother with raising another kid. Your mother looked at you just as the maids finally walked in with your breakfast, placing the plates in front of you. Your stomach rumbled quietly and it made your mom chuckle as your father took the first bite, and then you both followed suit. It was the same old breakfast: toast with boiled eggs, a few slices of tomato and butter. Sometimes you’d get hot cocoa, if your father was in a good mood, but most of the time you were served with orange or apple juice. Today, water with lemon was served and as much as you were craving the taste of oranges, a little switch from your usually boring routine was nice, even if so small and almost insignificant.

“When will you know your grades?” Your father asked again, voice hard and you bit your lower lip as you lowered your knife and fork.

“Today, actually.” You answered, trying to hide the tremor in your voice, but it was pretty obvious.

“Great, I will make sure to come home early then.” He said and the grip on your knife tightened as you tried to hide the anger and fear mixing together in your stomach, hating the words your father said. But it made your mother squeal as she smiled at him brightly.

“That’s amazing news, honey! Let’s go have dinner, shall we?” She was the only excited one, your father actually started glaring at you, and you realized it was because you were glaring at him. Sometimes, your control over your body slipped and you did things subconsciously.

“Yes,” Your father spoke, turning his head away from you to look at his wife, “Let’s go have dinner, Y/N should—”

“I have a study group at 18:00 today, I won’t be able to join you, I’m sorry.” You interrupted your father, not caring right now that he hated being interrupted by you, as you let your parents know in a hurry that you weren’t available today. And actually, you weren’t even lying. You really did have to study for English, you hated to say it, but you were feeling uneasy after your last exam and thought you could work on it. A new guy from America showed up two weeks ago, DK, and when you heard he offered to help out those in need, you knew you needed to sign up. Vernon was from America too, that’s why you never could beat him, he was better as he was fluent. Your mother was American too, but she never bothered to teach you much English, either too busy with work or with your father. She wasn’t a bad mom, just neglectful sometimes.

“You study so hard, my dear.” Your mother’s arm extended over the mahogany table and you extended your own arm, letting her grip it, “How about this…if you get a good grade for your English exam, we go on a small vacation this weekend?”

That actually sounded wonderful, you couldn’t help but smile, warmness filling your insides. You missed spending time with your mom, but of course, your father had to ruin it all.

“We shouldn’t…I can’t this weekend.” Of course, he couldn’t. The only important things for him were work, antagonizing you, and taking your mother on expensive dates.

“Honey,” Your mother let go of your arm to cup her husband’s cheek, “It’s not a crime if the two of us spend a little time together, it’s been long since we had a mother-daughter get-away, right, Y/N?”

You quietly nodded your head, hopeful that your father would let it slide this time, but of course, he wouldn’t, “If Y/N scores a 10/10, you can go.”

You gulped, hating how trusting your mother’s gaze was, how happy she looked, “Of course, honey, she’ll definitely get the highest score. She’s our daughter after all…”

Yes, unfortunately, I’m your daughter.

After breakfast you quickly got dressed for school, your uniform still warm from getting ironed a few minutes before you had to put it on. You hated wearing skirts to school, but you had no other choice as it was in the dress code. You fixed your hair and painted your lips a soft pink, smiling to yourself in the mirror. Not because you were happy, but because you didn’t want everyone to see how miserable you were. You didn’t have any friends; besides Yoona, you didn’t want any more rumors than the ones already circulating around you. They said all kinds of things about you, but neither was true. They weren’t necessarily bad, besides the one calling you a freak and saying you broke someone’s hand in your freshman year; you didn’t. But people weren’t very fond of you nonetheless and you didn’t want to add onto the list of why you should be more disliked than you already were. You knew the smile looked far from genuine, but it was better than nothing, it lessened the harsh expression of your face. It probably got like that due to your father’s constant pressure hanging over your shoulders.

The car ride was silent, John stirring up casual conversation with your father from time to time, as he drove you to school before driving your father to work. Your car was still in the car-service, actually, Jihoon got a new engine that you were more than happy to test out for him. He was the one who approached you, surprisingly, after your first won race. He said he liked your car and could smell the money from miles away; he offered to help out with your car if you raced on his behalf from time to time. You seriously didn’t need the money, but it sounded like fun and it was weird how impressed everyone was by Jihoon talking to you, so you accepted out of curiosity. It took you a month to realize he was part of the Lee family, being the eldest son actually, and that they owned the streets at night when racing. He truly was the best, both at racing and fixing cars. Sometimes you’d even drop off cash anonymously at his house, when you wouldn’t need it anymore, and you had a feeling he knew but stayed silent about it. Both of you knew that he needed the extra cash from time to time.

Your attention was brought to John when he stopped the car, unlocking the doors. You were parked at the front gates of your high school, you sighed as you grabbed the doorhandle of the car. Partially you were happy to be here just because you would be away from your father and mother.

“Y/N,” Your heart jumped to your stomach when your father called out your name, deep voice booming in the car, “If you don’t score 10/10, I will have to believe you are incompetent and unable to perform well in a private high school. If you don’t raise your score by the end of the semester, your name will be cut from the family tree and I will throw you out without a second thought.”

A cynical smirk appeared on your lips as you opened the door and turned to look at your father, “You can’t throw out a minor, father, unless you want me to go to the police and press magazines. I’m sure they are buzzing to know more about the mysteriously wealthy and handsome Mr. Seo, don’t you think?”

His jaw clenched and John gulped loudly, shaking his head as subtly as he could at you, as you hurriedly got out of the car. You never talked back to your father, you had no idea what came over you, but you felt so fed up with his threats. If only he knew cutting ties with him sounded like heaven to you. You didn’t care if you ended up on the streets as long as it was away from him, you were never hungry for money or greedy for it. You didn’t care about it, you just wanted love from the two figures who were supposed to raise you. Instead, one hated you and the other one was barely ever home.

“Have a good day at work, both of you.” You bowed deeply before closing the door of the vehicle, staring at the tinted window of the backseat. You waited until John drove away and you couldn’t see the car anymore. A strong gush of cold wind suddenly blew through the area and it made you realize that you were glaring at nothing, once again. You hated how little consideration he took of your feelings and how little he made you feel. Your father truly was the devil.

Yoona’s schedule was rather packed on Monday’s and Wednesday’s, so you couldn’t meet up with her during classes. Which maybe was a good idea, poor girl, you hoped she didn’t think you only used her to have someone to complain to, but you seriously had no one else to talk to. You loved Yoona and how open she was and ignorant to the rumors about you, she was always quick to shut others up. She was only a year older, yet she felt like a mother to you sometimes.

The day passed by incredulously fast and you made sure to take notes in each class, until it was homeroom class time. Your legs were bouncing up and down nervously and loudly as you tried not to bite your nails, a bad habit you were trying to get rid of. Usually, you weren’t this nervous, but your father reminding you of his threat this morning and your reckless answer made you realize if you indeed didn’t score 10/10 at English, you were truly fucked, and you hated the sudden ache of your stomach. It seemed like you were the only one so stressed out as your classmates kept shouting around you, joking and chatting, making your ears ring. All you could do was stare at the door anxiously, waiting for your homeroom teacher to enter this damned classroom already. But the bell didn’t even ring yet, it’s still break time, you sighed and bit your lower lip, trying to calm your nerves. You didn’t mean to, but your eyes fell on a boy and your eyebrows instantly furrowed. His right arm was resting on his desk, his right cheek on it as he slept. He looked so peaceful and carefree that it angered you more. How could he just sit there, sleep there, when you were about to get your grades? You knew he didn’t give a shit about his grades, yet he was always top of your class, breathing down your neck all the time. When you started high school, you never thought you’d meet someone almost as smart as you, and that you’ll be challenged. But Vernon…he just wrecked your life and made it a bigger hell than it already was, and tears almost came to your eyes as you couldn’t look away from his peaceful form. You were jealous and angry, wishing that could be you right now. As your eyes lingered on him, you realized, his cheekbones were high and sharp, almost hollow looking like. You hardly ever paid attention to guys, you didn’t have the time nor energy to put into them, but sometimes you caught yourself dozing off and staring at the back of Vernon’s head. He wasn’t special, far from it, he looked quite normal yet his beauty felt a little foreign, compelling. That was another reason to hate him for, and you never thought more of it, content with the current thoughts of him. You didn’t like him, but you didn’t deny that he was somewhat attractive either. Yet, your heart still started thumping quickly when Vernon’s eyes opened abruptly and made eye contact with you almost instantly, as if he knew you were staring. You averted your eyes and straightened your stance, refusing to look back at the boy, even if he continued staring at you. You never really spoke to him, you didn’t have a reason to, only greeted him in the mornings if you arrived after him…but you did greet everyone, after all. Your legs started bouncing again as Vernon wouldn’t look away and it made the hairs on your arms raise, your anxiety doubling. Why is he staring now? Does he think I like him or something? Maybe he knows I don’t like him? But your attention was brought back to the door as it opened just as the bell rang, and your homeroom teacher in walked. The voices in the classroom started dying down and even Vernon looked away from you, siting up straight in his chair. You were glad, you didn’t think you’d be able to ignore him for longer if your teacher wouldn’t have walked in. You donned out every voice that was still speaking, you even ignored your teacher’s usual speech about how grades weren’t important and that they didn’t actually reflect your knowledge about life…if only he knew what he was speaking. So, you just sat there silently, anxiously waiting for your sheet.

Which turned out to be more and more difficult as you were amongst one of the last ones, for once, making you hate the fact that your family name was ‘Seo’. You have successfully eaten three nails by the time your teacher called out your name and you raised from your chair, legs feeling a bit like jelly, as you rigidly walked up to his desk to take the sheet from him. Your hands shook and you hoped no one noticed, but when you turned to walk back to your seat, you were surprised to see Vernon squinting his eyes at you as he was watching you, once again. Did I draw too much attention onto myself by looking at him? This wasn’t the first time though, why is he suddenly so attentive of me? You ignored his burning gaze as you finally started walking back to your seat, gripping the sheet tightly in your hands. You were curios but also afraid to look. Vernon got his sheet a while ago and you tried to read his expression, but he only shrugged and placed the sheet between his notebooks, seemingly unimpressed. You were hopeful it was because he scored lower this time, but you couldn’t be very sure, he reacted the same way each time.

Finally sitting in your own chair, you took in a deep breath and opened the sheet, staring at the names of the subjects and then the grade next to it.

“Don’t forget kids, I tell you this each time, but I feel like saying this again. Grades don’t define us and you can be whoever you want to be in life, or do whatever you want to do, despite the grades on that paper—”

Your whole body ran cold as your hands started shaking hard, chest constricting as if your lungs stopped getting enough air to be able to function. Your eyes ran over and over again the same row, your brain refusing to acknowledge the information. English: 9,55. You hated what you were seeing, you hated what your teacher was saying, you hated how carefree and light everyone around you seemed to be, you hated Vernon’s gaze burning into the side of your head. You suddenly couldn’t bear sitting in that classroom anymore, it seemed rowdy and hot, your head started pounding painfully as you jumped up from your chair, knocking two notebooks and your sheet off the table. All the eyes on you made your chest tighten further and your eyes snapped towards your teacher when you heard him calling out to you.

“Miss Seo, is everything alright?” You really wanted to answer him, but when you opened your mouth to say something, nothing came out. Embarrassed and unable to take the looks you were getting by your classmates, Vernon’s confused gaze, you stepped around your chair and took off, uncaring of the repercussions. Your teacher called out your name once again, sounding more worried this time, and you glared at Vernon when he still didn’t look away, knocking onto his table on purpose, which made his pencil case and notebook fall to the floor. And with that, you were out of the classroom and running towards the girls restroom, hearing footsteps following you hurriedly. You knew your teacher sent someone after you to make sure that you wouldn’t do anything reckless, and it made you want to cry that your own teacher was more worried about your wellbeing than your own parents. You hoped the person realized you ran out because you wanted to be alone, and that they wouldn’t follow you inside the restroom, and when they actually didn’t, you broke down crying in front of the mirror, turning on the faucet to silence your sobs a little bit. I don’t want to go home.

You hated the looks your classmates were giving you after your breakdown, but some were nice enough to check up on you. You didn’t like the attention and the fact that you had to lie to them, but it warmed your heart a bit that not everyone was heartless and mean to you. You were surprised to see your things neatly placed in your bag after you returned from the restroom with a girl, Hanna, who your homeroom teacher sent after you to keep you company until you felt better. You wanted to ask who did that, because you wanted to thank them, but decided to stay quiet and just lay low for the rest of the day as rumors of you already spread through school like wildfire. You hated it, but you tried to ignore them…and Vernon too. He shot you a questioning gaze after you got back to class, but you acted like he wasn’t even there. Your gut was telling you that it was him who gathered your stuff from the floor and placed it back into your bag, but why would he do that? You were never very nice to him, and you even knocked his stuff off on purpose when you ran out. Fed up with your constant thoughts of Vernon and what others would say now about you, you blocked everything out and hurriedly gathered your things once the final bell rang, signaling that school was over for the day. You were glad that you could finally leave this place, but your stomach ached when you remembered you had to return home, to meet your father. Running away right now sounded like the smartest thing to do, but once you left your high school, you stopped and looked up towards the sky. The sun was high up and shinning down, creating a warm atmosphere and you looked around to observe that everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Kids were laughing and hanging onto their friends as they groaned about how hard school could get, others kids were excitedly talking about what homecooked meal their mothers made, and some were just hurriedly leaving through the gates. You smiled, but it was a sad smile, because you never experienced any of those feelings. You wished your mother would be at home, waiting for you with a homecooked meal, and that your father would arrive earlier from work and praise you for your grades, deciding to take the three of you out to the arcades. But those were dreams you’d never experience, and rather than continuing to hurt yourself with such fantasies, you took off with a sigh. You followed the path that lead to the iron gates of the high school and bowed your head a little to greet the gatekeeper, who was happy to see you. Not many kids were respectful toward the old man, but you didn’t think lower of him just because of his job, sometimes you’d sneak cookies from home and share them with him. As the weather was a lot warmer than in the morning, you took your scarf off and gasped when something hit your shoulder. You were expecting someone to be picking on you, but when you turned your head and looked at the girl leaning against the stone wall, you let a chuckle fall from your lips.

“I told you to throw your garbage in the trash cans, Yoona.” You scolded the older girl, picking up her cigarette butt to throw it into the nearest trash can later.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoona rolled her eyes, lighting another cigarette, “What the hell happened today? Your crazy classmates wouldn’t stop talking about how you stormed out after you got your grades.”

You grimaced as you leaned against the stone wall next to your friend, “I didn’t get a 10/10.”

Your answer was direct and Yoona sighed, glancing at you as she puffed out the smoke of her cigar. She knew about your parents, but not the whole truth. She only knew about them being obsessed with your grades and that they were very controlling and harsh to you. You didn’t dare tell her the other things, afraid she’d do something about it, getting you in more trouble.

“Oh, Y/N…” Yoona’s expression was sad and you melted into her hug as she put her arms around you, on the verge of crying, “If it feels too much later on, call me…or come to the races with me, you don’t have to compete or anything. Just be there.”

You hummed and circled your arms around your friend, feeling a bit better as Yoona’s familiar perfume entered your nostrils, “It’s a Wednesday, you know I can’t go out…and I have an English tutor now, we are meeting later for our first session.”

“Oh, really?” Yoona’s interest peaked as she finally pulled herself away from you, patting your cheek, “Do I know him?”

“Maybe, it’s this new guy from America…calls himself DK.” You muttered, puckering your lips at the hilarious name he went by. Yoona’s expression hardened and she scoffed as she finished her cigar, not looking very pleased.

“You know him?” You asked curiously, Yoona not being one to dislike someone.

“Of course,” She rolled her eyes and pushed off the stone wall, dragging her leather jacket tightly around her body, “He’s in my class. He’s very annoying, tries hard to befriend everyone and won’t shut up. He’s not even smart, most of the time only says stupid things—”

“Okay,” You raised up one hand to stop Yoona from rambling, throwing her an amused smile, “What did he do to you that you don’t like him?”

Yoona just rolled her eyes, displeased by how much you knew her already, “He’s all up in my business, won’t leave me alone after he heard me talking to my friend from the U.S. Fucking idiot…”

You started giggling loudly, making Yoona glare at you, but your laughter was contagious and she ended up giggling too, “You’ll figure it out, Yoona.”

“Yeah…hopefully before Johnny decides to smash in his nose.” Her tone turned sour and you gave her a pitiful look, knowing her relationship with Johnny hadn’t been the best lately. Yoona just sighed and you patted her side, reassuring her that you were there for her if she needed someone to complain to. The sudden sound of engine roaring caught your attentions and Yoona turned stiff, looking to the road, where a black car pulled up. The window rolled down and Johnny’s face came in view.

“Speaking of the devil…” You muttered quietly, making Yoona smirk at you.

“Hello, ladies.” Johnny greeted the two of you with a charming smile and Yoona looked at him before back at you.

“Want us to give you a ride home?” You appreciated her offer, but you didn’t know if your dad was already at home. He didn’t mind Yoona very much, he knew her parents, but he hated Johnny and actually forbid you from meeting up with him or with them when they were together. You didn’t want to test the waters furthermore today; you had already done enough in the morning and now with your grade too.

“No, no,” You shook your head quickly, declining her offer nicely, “You can go. I have to pick up some books either way, you don’t have to bother with me…”

Yoona nodded and took off towards her boyfriend’s car, but when she opened the door, she turned back to look at you and mouthed, “Liar.”

You chuckled and waved at them as Johnny gave you a nod before pressing a strong kiss against your best friend’s lips, leaving her with a sour expression as he rolled the window up and took off, the engine of the car creating disturbance to the pedestrians. You looked down at the other cigarette butt Yoona dropped and picked it up with a sigh, dropping it into your pocket, where the other one was. She never listened to you when you told her to throw them away into a trash can, so it became by now a routine to pick them up and throw them away yourself. You took off once again, headed home for real this time, your stomach churned nervously as you played with the cigarette butts in your pocket. Your parents knew you didn’t smoke, they stopped checking up on that since you turned sixteen, so you weren’t afraid of smelling like it. Besides, they knew most kids your age smoked and that it could just easily get into your clothes and hair when you walked by. You sighed at the thought of your parents and tried to enjoy the sun on your skin, welcomed after the cold winter you had. It was hard to walk home, because you were anxious, but the pleasant weather made you slow your usual long strides as you passed the corner of the high school and turned onto the next street. You took the two cigarette butts between your fingers and threw them into the trash can on the side walk as you walked by it, your scalp feeling itchy. Sometimes you made your ponytail too tight and it left your scalp sore, so you quickly undid the tight hold, releasing your long black hair. You thought of cutting it, it was slowly nearing the middle of your back, but your mother said a feminine woman needs her long hair, that it’s precious, and you should never wear it too short. That’s why your hair always reached your scapulas or even longer. I always wondered how I’d look with short hair…it can’t be that bad, right? Your thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly became aware that someone was walking right next to you. You became stiff and ready to speed up, uncomfortable, but when you stole a glance at the person walking next to you, your feet came to an abrupt stop. So did the person, who was scratching his nape awkwardly, looking at your guiltily.

“Uh, sorry.” Vernon’s voice was loud here, the cars and people walking by you were being loud, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me.” You answered him too quickly, body stiff as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, still…” He cleared his throat and you became curious, he never really spoke to you directly, unless you were paired up for a group project during class, “I just wanted to ask you…”

You raised your eyebrows, curiously looking at Vernon, a little annoyed that he was stalling, “What?”

“Are you alright?” Your eyebrows furrowed at his question and you glanced around, feeling uneasy. Why is he suddenly so curious about how I feel? It’s really not his business.

“I’m fine, why?” You snapped, crossing your arms in front of your chest in a way to show him you weren’t too fond of this conversation.

“Just wanted to check up on you.” Vernon muttered as he kept looking at you, the sunlight lighting his features. His skin had a warm glow and he was squinting as he was standing facing the sun, his brown eyes were lighter than you had anticipated them to be.

“Well…” You cleared you throat, feeling a bit flustered, “You didn’t have to.”

Vernon hummed and nodded his head a little, biting his lower lip, an action which caught your attention, “I know…you ran out of class and you didn’t look too good. Just wanted to make sure you’re better now—”

Your inhale was sharp and it alerted Vernon as your eyes snapped back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart was beating like crazy and you knew your face turned hard as Vernon gulped; you took a step to lessen the distance between the two of you, “Stay out of my business, Vernon, you already make my days a nightmare as they are.”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, clearly taken aback by your threatening tone and sentence, not having expected such hostility coming from you. After all, he never did anything wrong to you…directly. He looked lost for a second, you felt bad for being so mean to him, but before he could form a sentence, you turned and rushed away, willing yourself to catch the green cross light, which would turn red by the time Vernon realized you were running away and would stop him from following you. Your heart was beating fast as you turned to look back, to see him standing at the cross dumbfounded, his eyebrows furrowed as he raised one hand as if to ask you to wait for him. You were pretty good at reading people; you had anticipated his moves. You shook your head at him and took off, Vernon losing sight of you in the mass of people walking on the sidewalk.

You were studying in your room when you heard the front door open and slam closed. Your hands suddenly started shaking as your mother’s laughter carried through the big apartment you lived in, your father’s voice next as he answered her question. You dreaded this moment, you knew it was coming, but you were hoping it would come later. You knew your father was expecting you in his study, so, you rose from your desk and pulled your hair in a low ponytail. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and hated your expression; anyone would be able to see how scared you looked. You started glaring at yourself, trying to stop this horrible feeling brewing inside you, as you pointed a finger at yourself in the mirror.

“Stop it!” You snapped at yourself quietly, “Whatever happens, happens. Walk out there with your head up and don’t say anything unnecessary!”

When you heard your mother’s heels clicking getting closer and closer, you quickly grabbed the sheet and hurried to your door, opening it just as your mother raised her knuckle to knock.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed with a wide smile and placed her palm on your cheek, “Looking pretty today, how do you feel?”

You remained expressionless as you looked at your mother, jealous of her good mood, “Fine, I’ll go see father now.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaimed again and stepped out of your way, shooing you away, “We are supposed to leave in thirteen minutes for our date, don’t keep him up! Also, we should look for some vacation cabins in the mountains for our get-away—”

“We are not going anywhere!” You snapped and turned your head to look at your mother, jaw clenched. How could she not pick up on my mental state? How could she not read my expression when I’ve been hers for seventeen years? When she was my mother?

“Oh…” She cleared her throat, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “Why…”

“I didn’t get the grade.” You muttered and sighed, taking off towards your father’s office. It was on the other end of the apartment and you had time to even out your expression and calm your erratic heartbeat for at least a while. When you stopped in front of the big, black, door you took a deep breath and ignored your mother, who was headed to their shared bedroom, and knocked on your father’s office door. There was a grunt coming from inside and you knew it was your cue to walk in, so, you opened the door with more force than needed and walked in, leaving the door open. He hated it, but you felt like you’d need to escape tonight, it made you feel safer. Your father glanced at his door and then at you before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. You didn’t sit as you came to a stop in front of his desk, just reached your hand out for him to take the sheet. He nodded once and took it, eyes running over the paper. Your heart started beating quickly once again and you clasped your hands behind your back to stop yourself from biting your other nails you didn’t get to in school. Involuntarily, your left foot started tapping against the floorboards of the office and you gulped as you looked straight ahead when your father’s eyes fell on you.

“What did I say?” His voice was hard, sheet crumbled up in his hands. Don’t answer him, let him scream at you, “I thought I was clear.”

When he fell silent you didn’t know what to do or say, so you just let your head hang low, avoiding eye contact with your father, “You are telling me that you’re unable to get a 10/10 at English? When your mother is American?! Is your brain perhaps too little for you to comprehend what you have to learn?! Are you dumb, Y/N?!”

That felt like the last straw. I’m not dumb, I’m more competent than you once were! Your eyes snapped up to meet your father’s, your glare melting into his, “How am I dumb? I got a 9,55, father! And I got a 10/10 at everything else! I’m top of my class and high school! What more do you want?!”

Your voice broke at the end of the sentence, and your body shook, you have never raised your voice at your father. He looked shocked for a second, but in a second also, he was up and storming around his desk to reach you.

“You ungrateful scum!” He shouted loudly, his deep voice made you jump, “I feed you! I give you money! I buy you clothes! I put a roof over your head! And this is how you pay me back? By talking back and thinking you are better than me?!”

“When did I ever say that—” The words died in your throat as the back of your father’s palm slammed into your cheek harshly. Your eyes widened as your head snapped to the other side, tears instantly sprung to your eyes. You remained like that, unmoving and quiet, fighting with your tears. I’d rather die than cry right now. Your father scoffed and you felt the sheet hit your head as he threw that at you as well, as he turned away from you.

“You have three months to fix your mistakes, Y/N. After that, I will not see you anymore in this house.” You gulped at his words, straightening once he walked away and you knew he wouldn’t hit you again. You remained in front of his desk as he walked towards his door, about to get changed for his date with your mother. A broken chuckle left your lips as you looked up at the ceiling, one single tear rolling down your cheek. Better make his life hell in those three months!

“I can’t wait to leave this fucking hell!” You hissed, unaware that your father didn’t leave the room yet. He hesitated taking his next step as he looked back at you with furrowed eyebrows, taken aback by your words.

“I wish I was never born into this fucking family.” At this point, you didn’t even care if he was still standing in the doorway or not, it just felt good to speak your mind aloud. You wanted to shout at the top of your lungs for your parents to hear what you had to say. You wanted everyone to know. I hate them. Your father gulped as he took one final look at you, his jaw clenched, before he shook his head and walked away with a scoff. All he could think of was that you were a spoiled, ungrateful brat. Meanwhile, all you could think of was the day you’d finally be able to run away. In three months, you’d turn eighteen, school would finally end, and you’d leave this shithole you hated with your whole heart. Screw them both, who gives a fuck about them anyways?

That night you went to bed crying, which resulted in having a puffy face once you woke up. Your study session with DK wasn’t very successful and once he realized you just weren’t in the right state of mind to study, he dismissed you and set another appointment for next week, saying your English was almost better than his and that you didn’t even need tutoring. You knew that, but you were hopeful that if DK helps you out, on your next exam you’ll get a 10/10 just to spite your father before you move out. While crying, you have decided, that no matter what, in three months you were out of that place. You didn’t want to stay there anymore, you’d rent out a small apartment downtown, find a job and finish your last year of high school. You knew your mother would secretly support you and give you enough money to survive for months, but you didn’t want anything that was theirs anymore…especially their money. When you looked in the mirror to get ready for a new day, all you could do was sigh. Your eyes were big and red and you knew you’d have to spend half an hour just pouring cold water on them to make the swell go away. But when you pulled your hair in a bun, you knew the greenish-bluish bruise on your right cheekbone wouldn’t go away with cold water, you had to put on makeup. This is why you didn’t tell Yoona exactly everything about your family, especially your father, she would’ve reported it without a second thought. You disliked your parents, yes, but they were still your parents. Right now, they were everything you’ve got and you could make them suffer in different, much more effective ways. You decided to let your hair rest freely today, knowing it would offer more cover for your cheek, even if the expensive foundation and color corrector did their jobs fairly well. At breakfast you didn’t speak at all to your parents and you refused to ride with John and your father to school, taking the bus instead as you were running late a bit to be walking. You were in a bad mood all day and everyone could see it, even Yoona, who was a lot more cheerful than yesterday. She promised to hang out with you at lunch break and you were thankful, you felt like you needed to be in her presence today. Vernon was becoming plain annoying with his constant staring and his attempt to talk to you in one of the short breaks you had between classes, which alerted everyone from your class. You threw him a harsh glare and he understood that you wanted nothing to do with him, so he went back to his desk and left you alone for the rest of the day.

You were fixing your makeup before the lunch break arrived, your geography teacher let you off early today, as you stared into your small pocket mirror. You pulled your hair behind your ear as you took out the little cushion and started tapping it lightly against your cheekbone, not much of the foundation had come off, but you wanted to be sure. Especially since you were having lunch with Yoona. As you stared at yourself, your eyes looking lifeless, your ears picked up a loud voice greeting someone from your classroom. You looked up, curious, and your eyes fell on Vernon’s table. A darker blonde-haired boy, quite scrawny looking with dirty clothes, was leaning against Vernon’s desk. He looked younger than the two of you, maybe he was your age, but his complex gave him a boyish look. Vernon looked panicked as he stared at the boy, pinching his ear and making the boy cry out. A few of your classmates glanced at them, but no one seemed as invested and curious as you were. Vernon looked like he got caught doing something illegal, it definitely picked your interest. In your mind, Vernon was this perfect boy, perfect student, whom never did anything bad. Seeing that look on his face, you placed your mirror down on your desk and sneakily continued to watch them.

“Hyung, I’m just here to tell you something important!” The young boy exclaimed annoyed, earning a few more confused looks as he wasn’t wearing your high school’s uniform…or any for that matter. Is he not in school? He seems very young however…maybe he just skipped classes today? Vernon’s eyes widened and accidentally connected with yours and you quickly looked down, absentmindedly flipping through your long-forgotten fashion magazine. You felt his gaze remain on you for a few more seconds before it was gone; you peaked up at them to see the younger boy hunched over Vernon’s desk as he was articulately whispering something. Now, that made you even more curious about what they were speaking, and you looked back down at your magazine. A model you didn’t like had their picture on the page, so, you gripped it and tore the page out, crumbling the paper up. There, this should do for a good excuse to pass by them. You cleared your throat, feeling like you were about to commit a felony, and checked if anyone was watching you, but no one was. You hummed to yourself and looked around, trying to look innocent as you started slowly walking towards Vernon’s desk. Your heart started beating faster as your grip tightened on the paper and you slowed down even more once you could hear the boy’s high-pitched voice.

“Hyung, I’m not kidding! They said they’ll pay really well!” Pay well for what? Your eyebrows furrowed as you became intrigued, eager to find out more.

“I’m not racing against Jun anymore, why can’t you understand that?!” Vernon snapped quietly; his eyebrows were furrowed as he was glaring at his desk. The young boy sighed loudly and you actually stopped walking, standing just two feet away from them. Jun? Vernon is racing? Is this what I think it is?

“Come on, hyung!” The young boy whined and you jumped when something crashed in the back, the paper falling from your grip, “It’s tomorrow night, on a Friday, your mom won’t be pissed if we go racing—”

“Shut up!” Vernon’s voice was hard as you made eye contact. Your face must have said it all because Vernon didn’t look pleased, you heard something you weren’t supposed to. You cleared your throat and walked to the trash bin, feeling the little smirk creep onto your lips. Vernon races? How come I’ve never seen him before? Your thoughts became a whirlwind as you turned to walk back to your desk, eyes falling onto Vernon. He was glaring at you and suddenly you felt powerful, like you were in control of this situation. Vernon was racing Jun? Last month I beat Jun…that means…I can finally beat Vernon at something. You were suddenly pleased and even your mood got better, something you weren’t expecting to happen anytime soon. You didn’t have to think twice as the bell rang signaling it was time for lunch break. The young boy hadn’t left yet and it looked like Vernon was scolding him as you reached inside your backpack and felt around it. You gripped your sandwich first and then the cold rolled up material. You took both items out and your lips widened into a big smirk as your eyes fell on Vernon, who was busy talking to the boy. This is it. I can finally show him he isn’t better at everything. He’s not rich, I have a Veyron, it doesn’t matter what car he has, I will beat him without a doubt. You took off, gripping your things tightly as you were headed straight towards Vernon’s table. Him and the boy stopped whispering when they felt your presence behind them and they turned both to look at you. You slammed the big roll of cash on Vernon’s table, making their jaws drop as the young boy looked back at you as if you grew two heads out. You felt powerful and proud, so, with a wink directed at the young boy you brushed past him to find Yoona and enjoy your lunch with her. You knew Vernon understood your message.

Classes passed by quickly and you were buzzing to get out of school, for once not even having thought of your parents since the incident with Vernon. You wanted to talk to him, but not at school, you didn’t want your classmates to start more unwanted rumors about you or Vernon. You might dislike him, but you didn’t want to drag him into unnecessary drama. So, you told Yoona that tomorrow you were going to the races and she was excited, telling you she’d be there too with Johnny and his crew, and that she’d cheer for you. She was proud of you and amused at the same time, she knew you disliked Vernon, so she understood how much this meant to you. It was childish, but Yoona didn’t judge you for it, even cheered you on, she could see something was wrong today. So, when you left the school gates, you walked down the street after you promised Yoona that she could drive you home tomorrow, and you turned the corner. You knew Vernon walked this way to get home, so you leaned against the stone wall of the school fence and took a deep breath in, suddenly confused why your heart was beating so fast. Am I nervous because I’m about to see Vernon? No, that’s stupid, I don’t have a reason to feel this way around him. You stood up straight when Vernon rounded the corner and his eyes fell on you, narrowing dangerously as he approached you. When he stopped in front of you, he remained silent and you rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to speak.

“I’m sure you know what I meant by that…” You trailed off and Vernon nodded wordlessly, “I’m challenging you to race.”

“I know.” Vernon nodded again, his voice seemed to be a lot deeper right now, and you didn’t even realize it when you blushed.

“I heard some rumors…” You started, trying to remain confident under his sudden intimidating gaze, “About a guy called Vernon who drifts better than Lee Seungkwan, is that you?”

A smirk appeared on Vernon’s lips and your eyebrows furrowed when your heartbeat picked up again, suddenly you felt hot standing under the sun, “It is me.”

You didn’t like the look on Vernon’s face, you felt like he knew he was making you flustered, so you took a step to be closer, “Well then, here’s my proposal…I win, you teach me how to drift. You win, I’ll go on a date with you.”

I can’t believe this is the proposal I’m making, I sound stupid. How do I know he wants to go on a date with me? Now I’m just blindly assuming and insinuating that he might like me, oh no…Your cheeks warmed up again and you hated the way Vernon started laughing, his mouth opening and showing his teeth.

“How do you know if I want to go on a date with you?” Vernon raised one eyebrow and you rolled your eyes, trying to mask your initial panic.

“Call it a hunch,” You answered back with a smirk, trying to fake your confidence that suddenly decided to disappear, “are you in or not?”

Vernon remained silent for a few seconds as his eyes ran over your face, his features softening. You bit your lower lip, feeling nervous all of a sudden as no boy looked at you like that before.

“I’m in.” He extended his hand for you to shake and you looked down at it, hesitantly shaking his hand. His grip was strong and warm, his palm surprisingly soft as it caressed yours, it was so much bigger. Your cheeks burned again and your eyebrows furrowed as you became angry at yourself and pulled your hand away, throwing Vernon a small glare. He seemed amused as you turned and stormed off, completely missing the smitten look Vernon was giving you.

You woke up feeling excited, which was a foreign feeling, as you usually dreaded having breakfast with your parents. Last night you tried to nurse the bruise on your cheek with ice and ointment, but the colors were still there and you had to cover it with foundation once again. You let your hair hang freely once again and once you were dressed; you went out to have breakfast. Your parents weren’t in the dining room, so you headed to the kitchen, surprising the maids, and asked them to let you have breakfast there. They were hesitant but didn’t try to argue with you when they saw the genuine smile on your face; they could see how your mood was strangely good today and decided not to ruin it. After that, you skillfully creeped around the apartment, making sure to avoid your parents as you headed for school, your long strides taking you to school quickly. Yoona and you got there at the same time so you asked her to take you to Jihoon’s car-service after school, she said she’d drive you home today after all, as your Veyron was ready to be picked up for tonight’s race. Vernon seemed to be smug as he offered you a few smirks here and there throughout the day, and when you returned from the restroom, you found a protein bar on your desk. Confused, you looked around and watched your classmates, who weren’t paying much attention to you. Vernon wasn’t in the classroom and you sighed, about to sit, when Hanna waved her hand at you. You raised your eyebrows at her in question and she just pointed at Vernon’s table before at the protein bar. You understood what she tried saying and with red cheeks you slumped into your chair, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Your gaze fell on the protein bar and just as you poked it annoyed, Vernon walked in with two of his friends and his eyes fell on you. You threw him a glare and hid behind your long hair, refusing to let him see the blush on your cheeks, I blushed enough yesterday. His ego didn’t need to be further fed. You found it amusing how sure he looked of himself, you knew he was convinced that he’d win tonight, but you also knew he’d be a sore loser. You haven’t seen many people with expensive cars at the races, even if the engine is the one that counts, your Veyron just naturally was faster and better than most cars they owned. It was why you were able to win so many races until now and why Jihoon approached you in the first place. He was excited to see the new engine he installed in action tonight, he would sell it for big money if you win.

Your parents were still out on their date when you left the apartment, you didn’t have to worry about them seeing you dressed ‘like a hooker’, as they called this style. It wasn’t even anything bad, just leather pants and a strapless crop top and your leather jacket. You wore your thick, plain, platformed boots so that you’ll seem taller but be able to drive at the same time. Once you got to the garage you smiled pridefully at your car as you unlocked it. You really loved the car; it was your most prized possession as it brought you many victories so far. Once you turned the car on, goosebumps appeared on your arms at the roar of the engine. It was humming loudly and it shook your car in the best way possible as you carefully drove out of the garage. You turned on the radio and chuckled when Yoona’s favorite song came on, rolling down the windows to let the chilly air of the night fill your car. You pulled your hair in a low ponytail so that it wouldn’t accidentally get in your face and disturb you, you were aware of what you did was dangerous. You were careful as you drove down the illuminated streets of Seoul, making sure you wouldn’t exceed the speed limit. Wouldn’t want to make your father hate you more and take your car away. You’d get there at least fifteen minutes earlier, and you’d lie if you said your stomach wasn’t whirling around due to nervousness. You gripped the wheel tightly as you shook your head, passing by a green light, trying to clear your mind. This really isn’t the time to be nervous about something that I will most definitely win. The engine change wasn’t very obvious, your car was actually a bit slower, but it still flew down the streets if you pressed the gas pedal. Jihoon assured you you’d definitely win, even with the slight change, and you promised to give half of the profit to him. Tonight, he was making good money, people would flock to him to buy this new engine which to them seemed like it was as fast as an original Veyron engine, people were easy to fool. You drove through downtown and past some warehouses, music getting carried to where you were currently, even though the meeting point was one block away. You slowed as you turned the next corner and shut the lights of the car off as the street was illuminated well enough by the lampposts but the reflectors brought by the people here too. The street you were on was a very long streets, on both sides were abandoned buildings, and cars were parked close to those building to leave space for the circulating cars, and people, to pass by. You honked softly and the mass of people in front of you started fleeing out of your way, creating a straight path for you to the start line. You slowly rolled by them, the loud music coming from different car speakers could be felt even in your car, you picked up on the slight vibrations. People who knew you greeted you with grins and tapped your turquoise car, becoming excited when they saw you weren’t about to park anywhere. They knew you were racing tonight and as you arrived to the start line, people started cheering your name. You started laughing as you turned the engine off and got out of your car, grinning at the people surrounding you.

“There you are!” Yoona exclaimed as she leaned against the front of your car, arms crossed in front of her. You chuckled and approached her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Did you think I’d miss tonight?”

“Nothing’s ever sure with you…” She was right and you rolled your eyes, having missed races not once because of your parents being home. They didn’t know what you did in your free time, but sometimes they’d forbid you from spending your Fridays out, even though you always said you were sleeping over at Yoona’s.

“Did you see Vernon?” You asked as you looked around, unable to see anyone familiar in the huge crowd around you. Butterflies in your stomach made you rub your tummy as you pouted and Yoona started laughing loudly.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” Her eyebrows raised and you decided not to look at her, “And no, I don’t even know if he’s here. Maybe he chickened out—”

A loud roar of an engine made Yoona’s words unable to be heard and you whipped your head around, eyes falling on a red Honda Civic Type R. The windows were tinted and you couldn’t see inside, but you knew it was Vernon, no one else was racing beside the two of you for the next twenty minutes. Yoona’s eyes widened just a bit as you both watched Vernon get out of the car and you were confused when two blondes ran up to him squealing.

“Oppa!” They chorused and your face distorted into disgust as Yoona burst out laughing, leaning back as her head was thrown back. You looked at her, expression still the same, and it made her laugh louder and harder. Your eyes fell on Johnny, who was smirking, as he started approaching you, his eyes falling on Vernon.

“Brought along your Barbie dolls, eh?” He tapped Yoona’s thigh as he walked past, headed for Vernon. The two blondes clung onto Vernon’s arms and you finally looked at him, taking in his attire. He wore ripped jeans and a form fitting navy green blouse, a leather jacket keeping him warm from the chilly air. A few chains hung around his neck and his dark hair was pushed back. You were surprised to see Vernon dressed like this; you didn’t think his style would be like that. You’ve only ever seen him in his uniform and some loose gym clothes. You gulped and Yoona nudged you, eyes squinted.

“Stop staring at him, you’re making it very obvious.” She muttered as she leaned down as if she was about to whisper something to you.

“What?” You asked confused as you turned your head, Vernon just shook hands with Johnny, and you then looked back at Yoona.

“That you like him.” Yoona’s words hit you like a truck and you couldn’t help the very loud scoff that left your lips. Is she crazy? I like Vernon? Where did she get that from?!

“Did you take something before you—”

Yoona threw you a warning glare and you didn’t finish your sentence as you knew better, but your attention was back on Johnny and Vernon, it looked like they’ve known each other for quite a while as they talked casually.

“Taking her out for a tour?” Johnny asked with a grin as he placed his hand on Vernon’s Honda. Vernon nodded and untangled himself from the two blondes, a smirk appearing on his lips. Your stomach did a somersault and you gasped quietly, confused as to what that feeling meant and why you only ever felt so flustered around Vernon. Yoona can’t be right…

“Nah, I’m here to claim my prize.” Vernon’s eyes fell on you and your back straightened as you quickly smoothed your expression into a neutral one. You knew your cheeks were still burning, but it was so chilly outside, one could blame it on that. You chuckled as Johnny looked at you too, seemingly having realized Vernon was racing you tonight.

“I don’t know man,” He said with an amused smirk, patting Vernon’s back forcefully, “I’ve never seen Y/N lose before in that car.”

You couldn’t help but notice the slight envy that slipped into Johnny’s tone and it made you smirk; you always knew he wanted your car. He was pretty pissed when you refused to let him drive it, you weren’t about to let a lunatic wreck your precious car. If something happened to it and you’d had to tell your parents it was Johnny’s fault, you were sure you’d never get to see the daylight ever again.

“You’re still in, right, Chwe?” You raised your eyebrows mockingly and Vernon scoffed, opening his door.

“Why don’t you sit inside your car so that we get over with this?” You chuckled and pushed off your car, Yoona following suit as Johnny walked up to the two of you, grabbing Yoona’s nape. You watched as he stared her in the eyes, eyes narrowing the slightest at her, and Yoona’s jaw clenched as she waited patiently for Johnny to stop. You hated when he did that, tried dominating Yoona or got possessive to the point of hurting her, so you ripped your car door open and pressed down on the honk harshly. Both of them jumped and Johnny looked at you with a glare.

“Move along, dickhead, I haven’t got all night.” You snapped at him and he chuckled, releasing Yoona, who looked thankful as she pushed Johnny slightly back and walked away while shooting you a finger heart.

“Don’t crash.” You rolled your eyes at Johnny’s words and got in as he walked to the side where Yoona stood, circling his arms around your best friend’s waist. Out of nowhere, Jun showed up, holding a checkered flag. You closed your door shut and put on your seatbelt, melting into your seat. Vernon’s engine roared to life and you were quick to do the same, Jun having come to a stop between the two cars.

“You know the drill,” Jun shouted over everyone’s voice, “You’ve got 400 meters, whichever finishes first wins and gets the money.”

Vernon reeled his engine and you just smirked; eyes fixed on the checkered flag as Jun raised it. You always concentrated, how you start, is the most important thing. You can’t lose seconds and you have to be faster than the other one, it gives you already a very small but significant advantage. You gripped the gearstick and the wheel with your other hand, ready to shift it into drive. You hated how your eyes had to take a glance at Vernon and it annoyed you even more when you realized his eyes were on you. What if Yoona is right and I do like him? I do feel flustered around him. Isn’t it just because he makes me angry? A few days ago, I was convinced I hated him with all my heart. What is it that I truly feel for him then? Jun’s hand with the flag dropped and you shifted the gearstick just in a second, your foot pressing down the gas pedal. You didn’t look anywhere else as your car came to an abrupt start, the safety belt cutting into the exposed skin of your collarbones and your eyebrows furrowed as your car picked up speed in just seconds. Everything became a blur around you, all you saw was the finish line that was still far away, but you were getting closer and closer. You didn’t know where Vernon was, but having not seen him pass you, you believed he was still behind somewhere. Your stiff body almost felt relaxed, despite the contraction of your muscles to keep the car going in a straight line at such high speed, and your mind was silent. You didn’t hear anything, the radio was always off when you raced because you wanted to hear the engine, and your labored breathing felt almost relaxing. You felt in control and free, a small smile slipped onto your lips when you noticed Seungkwan standing on the side with a big checkered flag, flapping it around above him. You were close, just a few more meters. Your engine cried loudly as you pushed the gas pedal for another boost of energy, your car crossing the finish line before Vernon’s could. You let go of the gas pedal and hit the brakes, your car coming to a stop slowly but surely. People flooded around your car and your head rested on the head rest as you closed your eyes, surprised by how fast your heart was beating. Adrenaline always flooded your veins, but never this much. You opened one eye and glanced to your left, but Vernon’s car was nowhere. It confused you as you turned the engine off, undoing your seatbelt. People were cheering for you, your name leaving their lips as they tapped your car in congratulations, and you gripped the door handle to open it. Just as you pushed it open, it was pushed back closed and your eyebrows furrowed, until Vernon’s face popped up. He motioned with his finger to roll down your window and you did, still looking at him confused.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice loud, as Vernon threw the cash back at you, making it land in your lap.

“I lost,” His tone was hard and he looked displeased, “but you knew I would, so take your money back.”

You rolled your eyes and gripped the cash, raising it up between your faces, “I gave it to you regardless of the outcome, our deal was about something else—”

“I’m not your charity case!” Vernon’s voice turned harsh and you raised your eyebrows at him, finding it weird how pissed he suddenly was, “I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon at the abandoned sandy tracks half an hour from here. Don’t come with the Veyron, it’s not a car for beginners.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him that you weren’t a beginner, but Vernon turned around and stormed away, pushing people out of his way. You turned your head to see where he was headed, and you found his car just a few meters away from the finish line, 100 meter between yours and his car. What a dick.

The revving of the engine was a sign that you were doing something wrong and out of anger, you hit the brakes harshly, sending yourself and the person sitting in the passenger seat forward. Your heart was beating fast as you gripped the steering wheel with both hands, your skin melting into the material of the wheel. The seatbelt was cutting into your skin too and your jaw clenched when a chuckle came from your right. You knew Vernon was smirking in amusement, very pleased to see you fail once again. You thought you’d learn how to drift quickly and easily, but here you were, almost two hours later, barely being able to make one right turn. You didn’t know what it was that made it so hard, it couldn’t have been Vernon’s Honda, you’ve driven cars like his before thanks to Jihoon; you really didn’t understand what was the matter. I can’t believe I’ve been embarrassing myself for the past two hours. A sigh left your mouth and you glanced at Vernon, who’s right arm was perched on the windowsill and he had his smirk still on.

“You suck at teaching,” You had to say something to save yourself from further embarrassment, “That’s why I still can’t do it.”

It was so amusing to Vernon that he started laughing, his mouth widening and his teeth showed. Your heart only seemed to pick up its rhythm and your eyebrows furrowed as you harshly shifted the gear to start doing another round.

“Hey, hey—” Vernon was quick to notice your change of demeanor and your fingers tightened around the shift stick when he gripped your hand, “I think we had enough for today, Y/N…especially my car. I can’t have you burning down my brakes, sorry.”

“If you’d let me come with my Veyron you wouldn’t be here complaining—”

“And risk wrecking that car?” Vernon’s eyebrows shoot up and you looked at him, his hand was still on top of yours as if he forgot it there, “Hell, I bet your parents don’t even know you race…I for sure would bite my kid’s head off if I found out they raced with a car like yours—”

“Yeah,” You snapped, eyes blazing as you glared at Vernon, what does he know about me, “That’s why they don’t know. Let go of my hand now and tell me where to drive.”

Vernon gulped and if you weren’t so angry, you probably would have blushed at his reaction. He looked down at your hands as if he realized due to your words it was still on top of yours and he quickly placed it in his lap, clearing his throat as you looked away, “I’m quite hungry, let’s have lunch.”

“Just tell me where you live and I’ll call John to pick me up—”

“No!” Vernon’s voice rose a bit and you looked at him surprised as you were driving away from the abandoned race tracks, “I mean…come have lunch with us. My mom knows where we are and she’d be really pissed if I didn’t invite you for lunch…”

Your heart started beating fast again and you bit your lower lip, trying to ignore his words and the temptation to say yes, “I can’t stay.”

“Please—”

“No.” Vernon knew it was final and that he couldn’t try convincing you anymore, but he really wanted you to stay. He was amazed by you, truth be told. He didn’t know what was so attractive about you, because you might have been beautiful, but he never really cared much about looks. Something about the way you would always look at him, he felt some hidden feelings that you desperately tried to hide from him and yourself as well. He knew you had something with him personally, he didn’t understand why, but he hoped one day you’d have enough courage to tell him. It was the only reason why he never tried getting close to you, he was afraid honestly, that you’d reject him in a very unpleasant way and he wanted to save himself from the heartbreak. He didn’t even know you raced, he never heard of your name being gossiped at the races, however, he did hear something from Chan, who worked for Lee Jihoon. But you weren’t the only girl who’s name was Y/N, he couldn’t just assume so boldly. As you focused on the road, on driving back towards the main roads, you failed to notice Vernon’s intense gaze analyzing your every movement, expression. Your bruise had faded nicely, after icing it non-stop when you were home, but you could still faintly see it. So faintly, that one would have to be really close next to you to see it, or so you thought. Vernon clearly saw it and just as he opened his mouth to question what it was, you sighed.

“Yesterday…” You started quietly, your muscles having eased now that you were just driving around casually and Vernon wasn’t touching you, “I feel like I insulted you…”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, pointing towards a street, to which you turned, “Insulted me?”

“With the money…I didn’t want to make it seem like I was—”

But Vernon didn’t want to hear it, because quite frankly, he wasn’t insulted at all last night. He was pissed, because you won. And that was only because he really wanted to go on that date with you. However, now that you’ve been alone in his car for almost two hours, he didn’t seem to mind it that much, “I wasn’t insulted, Y/N. I know you are rich and that I have less than you, but it didn’t mean anything to me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and once again followed Vernon’s instructions, which lead to a quiet side of the city, “Why were you so angry then?”

“I was frustrated, not necessarily angry.” Your lips pulled up into a smile and you glanced at Vernon.

“I probably should have warned you I drive a Veyron—”

“I heard Jihoon sold your engine.”

“It wasn’t mine. He bought it and wanted me to show it off so that he could sell it for more.”

“Smart.”

“I know.” You found yourself glancing at Vernon with a smile, which he returned, as he pointed towards a house at the end of the street. It was a dead end, and theirs was the last house. It looked normal size, white, and had a nice front lawn. You didn’t think Vernon was poor, but the quality of the house surprised you. It had a refreshing look and definitely looked cozy just from the outside. You parked the car in the driveway, like Vernon instructed, and turned the engine off. You both undid your seatbelts and got out of the car; your eyes glanced towards the house. The window on the second floor was opened and loud music was blasting through it. A smile had pulled onto your lips without realizing and Vernon cleared his throat to get your attention.

“That’s my sister…she’s a bit loud sometimes.” You nodded as your eyes fell on Vernon, who’s hands were in the pockets of his baggy jeans, it weirdly looked good on him. Vernon’s style surprised you. It looked really cool and was actually very fitting for him, now you realized. It would be weird seeing him now in his uniform, knowing his preference in clothes.

“I’ll call John—" But just as you grabbed your phone from your jacket, the front door opened and a middle-aged lady walked out, hands on her waist.

“Look at you two!” She exclaimed in English and your lips instantly pulled into a smile, her accent sounding an awful lot like Vernon’s, “I thought you’d never come home. Come on!”

Vernon grinned at his mother and took off, but you remained put, “Uh, ma’am I’ll be calling my father’s driver to pick me up.”

“Non-sense!” Vernon’s mother’s eyebrows furrowed as she stepped down a few steps, “Hurry up inside, I just finished the soup.”

“Ma’am, I really can’t stay for lunch—”

“Vernon, go get her!” And before you could disagree more, his mother walked inside, leaving the door open for you. Your eyes fell on Vernon and you shook your head, about to dial John’s number. I really don’t want to be here right now. My father is already pissed enough at me, I shouldn’t miss lunch today…especially since we are meeting with his business partners.

“If you don’t have lunch with us, mom won’t let me help you tomorrow or next week.” Your eyebrows furrowed at Vernon’s words and you looked down at your cellphone, hesitant to put it away. Would it really be so bad if I stayed? It’s just one lunch. Besides, I most definitely don’t want to meet Mr. Kim’s son, he’s too rude for my liking. You rolled your eyes and put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, putting it back inside your jacket’s pocket as you followed Vernon inside the house.

The house on the inside was exactly how you imagined it to be. Walls white with big windows to let the natural light inside and everywhere you looked, you saw family pictures. It seemed like Vernon’s mother really liked flowers too as you could find them in every corner of the house. There was a scent of homecooked meal and it smelled so much better than the one coming from your maids at home. It was a lot warmer inside than outside, so you decided to get rid of your jacket too after you left your shoes in the doorway. You’d usually wear flip flops at home, but when Vernon gave you none and instructed to just go straight ahead while he went upstairs, you didn’t say anything about it. You watched Vernon hurry up the stairs as you walked down the hallway, humming coming from where Vernon instructed you to head towards.

“Oh, good!” It was his mom, once you stepped inside the kitchen, the scent of homecooked food was stronger. The kitchen wasn’t very big, just enough for a few people to be inside, but when you looked to your left you noticed there was a dining room, the young boy from school was there actually. He was sitting on a chair, one foot up on the chair next to him as he watched something on his phone, picking his nose in the process. It was a sight you weren’t expecting, such a normal sight you never got to see at home, that it made you laugh. You actually started laughing so hard it alerted the young boy, who’s cheeks became pink and he shoot you a glare.

“Chan,” Vernon’s mom sighed as she glanced back to see what was so funny, “He was picking his nose again, wasn’t he?”

You only nodded as you tried to stop laughing, the boy actually got up and walked towards you with a small glare. You weren’t aware that Vernon had a brother, besides, this Chan boy looked nothing like Vernon or his mother.

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N by the way,” You spoke up as Chan stopped beside you, squaring you up with his eyes, as you watched Vernon’s mother.

“Yes, Vernon told me who he was going with. Wasn’t expecting a girl to want to learn how to drift.” Chan scoffed next to you as he offered you his hand once he was done taking your form in.

“Lee Chan.” You shook his hand and narrowed your eyes at him, “And Mrs. Chwe, I told you women like to race. Sometimes there’s more of them at the race tracks than men.”

“He’s not wrong.” You approved of his words, looking back at him, “You’re not related to the Lee family, right?”

“Do I look like I am?” Chan had a sharp tongue and you scoffed, watching him brush past you, “Let me put the plates, Mrs. Chwe.”

“You should be studying, Chan, dear.” Chan just rolled his eyes as he opened a drawer and pointed at the cutlery and motioned for you to take them. You grimaced at him but proceeded to help him out, it was better than standing awkwardly in the kitchen and doing nothing.

“Studying is a luxury that I can’t benefit of.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you walked alongside Chan to the dining room, setting the plates and cutlery on the long table.

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, noticing one plate missing.

“I don’t have enough money to go to school, Y/N.” Chan answered with an impassive voice, but you couldn’t help and notice the yearning behind his words.

“How old are you?” You found yourself asking again, something tugging at your heartstrings. Am I feeling bad for him? He deserves to have part of education like everyone else. He seems like a quick-witted boy.

“Sixteen.” Chan muttered and brushed past you as he headed for the door of the kitchen. You looked at Mrs. Chwe as she brought the pot of soup to the table, still steaming as it had been recently finished. She had a sad expression as she heard your little exchange with Chan and it suddenly all made sense. He’s here because they are taking care of him. I don’t know his home situation, but if Mrs. Chwe took him in, it must mean that he wasn’t living well before at all.

“Vernon! Sofia!” You jumped at Chan’s shrill voice and Mrs. Chwe chuckled, taking a seat at the head of the table.

“Sit wherever you want,” She offered you a smile and you chose to sit on her left, the cushion was soft underneath your bum, “Can’t believe my son just left you to yourself, where are his manners.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Chwe.” You reassured her, sitting patiently as Chan chose to sit across from you. You internally cursed and hoped that Sofia would take the seat next to you, but you didn’t have that much luck. As the girl came into view, she raced Vernon and jumped into the seat next to Chan, leaving Vernon with a glare directed at her. You looked at Vernon and tried to keep a neutral expression, knowing all eyes were basically on the two of you. His black hair was dripping still and he had changed from the clothes he was wearing earlier today. He wore black sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt, which made your heart beat faster. You never noticed that Vernon had muscles before and you were praying to all Gods that you wouldn’t blush upon seeing the way his t-shirt sat tightly against his chest.

“Finally,” His mother said with a sour expression and Vernon chuckled awkwardly, taking his seat next to you. You tensed up when Vernon’s knee knocked into yours underneath the table and Chan just randomly chuckled, making everyone look at him.

“Nothing, sorry!” He quickly dismissed it and greedily grabbed for the ladle to pour soup into his bowl. Vernon kept his eyes on Chan and the younger boy tried to mask his chuckle with a scoff. It was weird but you said nothing as this seemed to be normal for the other people sitting at the table.

“I’m Sofia!” Your eyes fell on the girl sitting next to Chan and you offered her a genuine smile.

“I’m Y/N.” She grinned back at you and stole the ladle from Chan, elbowing him when he filled his bowl to the brim.

“I love this soup, stop it!” He exclaimed loudly and scooted his chair away from the girl, throwing daggers at her.

“You won’t leave anything for us!” Sofia fired back and you sat quietly, your body once again relaxed. Vernon’s hands on the table kept clenching and unclenching and you stole a glance at him, he was watching his sister and friend’s banter with a glare.

“Stop it, kids,” Mrs. Chwe intervened and took the ladle from Sofia once she was done, “You always serve the guest first.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry!” You quickly dismissed her words, offering her your bowl when she raised her hand, “You don’t have to change your habits just because I’m here.”

Vernon’s mother smiled as she handed you back the bowl, “You seem to be the most well behaved here, my dear.”

Your cheeks became hot and before you could dismiss her words, Chan erupted into giggles, “Of course, Mrs. Chwe! Can’t you smell the richness? I could, even from miles away—” Before Chan could finish his sentence, he cried out and jumped a bit, glaring at Vernon, who was glaring at him back. You looked at Vernon and saw how his jaw was clenched and his mother sighed, taking her son’s bowl to pour some soup for him too.

“Rich or poor, Chan, in this house it doesn’t matter, yes?” Her voice was scolding and Chan grew smaller in his seat, as if he realized he wasn’t at his real home here and apologized quietly. Once you started eating your soup, you remained quiet and listened to the casual conversations from around. It wasn’t because you had nothing to say, it’s just that habits are hard to change, and at your house no one spoke while you ate…well, sometimes your mother would, until your father would reprimand her for it. You smiled softly when Sofia talked about her recent trip with her friends to a resort not far from the city and felt a bit bad when Chan confessed that he wouldn’t be going home this month either. You didn’t know his story, but it was obvious how much it bothered him that he couldn’t be there. Vernon answered his mom when he was asked something, but otherwise remained silent like you, stealing glances that you obviously noticed but ignored in order to stop yourself from blushing.

“Did Vernon manage to teach you something today, Y/N?” Mrs. Chwe asked you just as you finished eating and your eyebrows furrowed.

“He tried to…” You muttered and subconsciously threw a glare at Vernon, “But I didn’t do much.”

“You aren’t bad though.” You scoffed and whipped your head towards Vernon, for a second forgetting that it wasn’t just the two of you there.

“Saying that now to seem nice, huh? Who are you trying to impress?” Everyone remained silent at your snappy tone and you grew embarrassed, realizing you were acting out again. It was just getting to you. The atmosphere at the table, how nice everyone was to everyone, how Mrs. Chwe seemed to know her kids and didn’t even have to ask them because she already knew what bothered them. Even Chan was treated well and Mrs. Chwe was babying him, offering him more soup once he was done even though he probably couldn’t eat more. It was obvious that everyone was cared of and loved. Hearing Mrs. Chwe calling you ‘my dear’ wasn’t helping with the void you felt in your chest. It was making your stomach ache when you thought of going home after this, after the picture of a loving family was now forever imprinted into your mind. How were you not supposed to hate Vernon now? He isn’t just perfect at school; his whole life seems to be perfect. Everyone loves him and Chan even looks up at him, Sofia seems to love to tease him and no one seems to be always pressuring him. How am I supposed to look at him without envy?

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” You apologized quickly, realizing you’ve stayed quiet for too long.

“Don’t worry, my son isn’t perfect.” Mrs. Chwe’s words were so contradicting towards your thoughts about him, “Whatever misunderstanding you have going on, I understand. Just solve it quickly so that you don’t stay with a grudge.”

“A misunderstanding even I don’t understand.” Vernon mumbled underneath his breath and you looked at him, eyes widening just a little bit. Now you felt worse and you sighed, pushing your hair behind your back.

“Oh, dear!” Everyone looked at Mrs. Chwe surprised, she was looking at you with her eyebrows furrowed, “What happened to your face?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you touched your face with both hands, looking at Vernon out of reflex since you knew him best from the table, to see if he could see something wrong. His eyes looked into yours for a second before they fell on your cheek. Your heart seemed to come to a stop before it sped up dangerously and you just cleared your throat.

“I’m clumsy sometimes,” It was a script you memorized a long time ago, “I have a cabinet in my bathroom that’s around my height and sometimes when I wake up, I’m dizzy and happen to run into it. That’s what happened.”

Everyone but Vernon seemed to buy it, Sofia even laughed, “You should be more carefully, why did you even put the cabinet there?”

“I wasn’t the designer of the apartment.” You joked with her, throwing Vernon a confused glance as his right leg was moving up and down fast, like when you were anxious. Chan and Sofia giggled as Mrs. Chwe stood to gather the bowls.

“Put some ice on it, it’ll go away.” Her voice was soothing and you felt like her, too, knew your story was a lie; but you decided to ignore it and thank her for lunch once again.

“When is Mr. Chwe coming home?” Chan asked as he stood to help Mrs. Chwe take the bowls to the sink. He saved your curiosity and you were happy that he asked before you could.

“I don’t know,” Vernon answered with a shrug, leaning back in his chair, “He took some extra shifts.”

“Yes, because you just had to buy that expensive car to race with.” Mrs. Chwe snapped from the kitchen and you looked at Vernon.

“I’ve been earning more money ever since, mom. You can’t say I’m not trying to help you.” Vernon got defensive, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Your eyes fell on the contracting muscles and you gulped, reaching for your glass to drink some water. Sofia smirked but looked at her phone when she saw you throwing her a questioning glance.

“As if we weren’t in debt before.” The woman sighed to herself, but everyone heard it, and the cash that Vernon threw back at you yesterday felt heavy in your back-pocket. He wasn’t a charity case, he said it himself, but why not give it to him when you seriously didn’t need it? You looked at Vernon and his eyebrows were furrowed as he sighed quietly.

“Thank you for having me for lunch, but I really have to go home now.” You spoke up and stood up, Vernon following your actions. Sofia shot you a pout but she waved as you walked to the kitchen, Vernon behind you.

“You should come more often.” Mrs. Chwe gave you a pat on the head and you bowed your head, waving at Chan, but as you went to step outside of the kitchen, you stopped. Vernon walked into you and your skin tingled as he grabbed onto your arms, steadying himself. You wanted to curse but focused on what you were about to say as you glanced back, having to look over Vernon’s shoulder. He was taller than you.

“Chan, ask Vernon to give you my phone number and whenever you have free time, call me if you feel like studying a little.” Chan’s mouth fell open and you winked at him, taking off again.

“For free?” Chan shouted after you and you chuckled, weirdly not bothered that Vernon was still holding onto you.

“For free!” You called back and Chan started loudly cheering, making Vernon sigh, “You should do the same, Vernon, the poor kid makes it obvious that he’d like to study.”

“You think I didn’t try doing that?” Vernon scoffed and finally released you as you went to pull on your shoes, “He’s stubborn and refuses to listen to me.”

“I guess my beauty is enough to give him motivation then.” You said cutely and Vernon could have sworn his heart stopped beating. You didn’t notice his sudden freeze up as you grabbed your jacket and phone from your pocket.

“Your beauty…” He muttered to himself as you sent a message to John to pick you up, his answer was immediate.

“So…” You looked back at Vernon, sneakily taking the roll of cash from your back-pocket, “We are meeting tomorrow too?”

“That’s the plan, right?” He asked, his voice sounding a bit chocked up and you ignored it as you nodded. Your eyes fell on the table behind him and your heart picked up when you realized what you’d have to do. You wouldn’t have done it, not in a million years, if it wasn’t your only chance to leave the money at him. Your heart started beating fast and Vernon frowned when he saw you closing the gap between you two. You grimaced to yourself as you let your left arm circle his torso, hugging him briefly. Your right arm extended and just as you managed to drop the cash onto the table, Vernon pulled you into himself. You gasped quietly and noticed how refreshing his scent was and the back of his t-shirt was still wet from his dripping hair that seemed only damp now. The hug didn’t last for long but when you pulled back, both of your cheeks were warm and you couldn’t look at Vernon.

“Uhm, see you tomorrow!” Not wanting to hear his voice and feel more flustered, you quickly opened the door and ran down his driveway, refusing to turn back around to watch him close the door. You could still feel his arms around you and how soft his clothes were despite his body being so firm. I think Yoona is right, I might like Vernon.

You couldn’t help the satisfied cry that left your lips as you took your forth successful turn, drifting just like Vernon taught you. You still couldn’t do it each time you tried, but this was the best you’ve done since you’ve been here so far. Vernon was proud as he gripped onto the board of the car, lips in a wide grin. He wasn’t bothered by how sharp your turns were, throwing him around in his seat even though he was buckled up, he was happy that you were happy. He’s never seen you with such wide smile before, and he was mesmerized. He never thought you could become more beautiful than you already were. Your heart was beating fast again as you decided this was satisfying enough to take a break, Vernon’s been complaining for half an hour now. You slowed the car down and stopped the engine when it finally came to a stop. You let out a breath and relaxed in the driver’s seat, feeling accomplished. You could finally do it; you were sure you needed more practice but you actually did it this time.

“That was pretty cool, Y/N.” You forgot you were with Vernon in the car and you became embarrassed as you looked at him, “Am I still a bad teacher?”

“It took me five hours in total to catch the hang of it, I wouldn’t tell anyone you’re very bright at teaching.” It made Vernon chuckle and you realized what he acted like in school was his real personality, he wasn’t faking anything like some people were. It felt nice to be around someone authentic and you found yourself staring at him. His black hair seemed to have wax on as it was twirled in locks and paired with the red sunglasses he wore it made him look very attractive. He had on some black ripped jeans and underneath his neon green oversized jumper he wore a white t-shirt, you could see the collar of it. When Vernon locked eyes with you, you quickly looked away and picked at the ends of your turtleneck; your knee-length skirt had ridden up a bit and was around your thighs, you’d have to pull it lower soon.

“I gave Chan your phone number,” You looked back at Vernon surprised, you didn’t expect Chan to actually accept your offer, “He said he’ll give you a call next week.”

“That’s fine,” You hummed and brushed your long hair behind your back, “The less time I spend at home, the better.”

You wished you didn’t say that, because it seemed like Vernon just remembered something and his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes searched your face. You did not forget to put on foundation today, so he couldn’t see anything wrong with your skin, but suddenly the area felt on fire. You hoped Vernon wouldn’t bring it up now that he couldn’t see it, but you were wrong.

“Why hide the bruise if I have already seen it?”

“I thought it wasn’t visible anymore, good you told me.”

“Wouldn’t want more people getting suspicious?” Your eyebrows furrowed and Vernon rolled his eyes, looking a little irritated.

“What happened?” You shrugged and sighed, trying to remain neutral.

“I told you yesterday, Vernon—”

“But it’s not the truth.” You rolled your eyes but Vernon’s burning gaze made you want to tell him everything. You didn’t know anymore which feeling was stronger: hatred or liking. But you wanted to tell someone and Vernon was willing to listen, maybe you felt like this because you knew Vernon wouldn’t directly go to the police like Yoona would.

“Everyone at school is jealous of me for being rich, for having everything I want and need. But I don’t have everything, Vernon. My parents don’t love, at least my father doesn’t, my mother barely spends time with me nowadays and the bruise—" You hated thinking of how you got certain bruises, your chest ached. You blocked the memories away and you didn’t think it would be this hard to say it. You were scared of how Vernon would react and what he’d think, would he see you differently? Vernon grabbed your hand and you became stiff, wanting to pull your hand away but keep it there at the same time. It was oddly offering you comfort.

“The truth is that—my father—he—hits me.” You muttered quietly and looked down at your hands, unable to look at Vernon. You didn’t want him to see the tears in your eyes, you hated being vulnerable in front of others. And now you were confused about what you actually felt for Vernon, it wasn’t helping. Vernon’s silence was making you uncomfortable and you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched. He seemed fine, but his jaw gave him away. You knew he was angry and you sighed, pulling your hand away from his.

“Go to the police, tell on him.”

“No, I can’t do that. He’s still my father.”

“Do you even hear yourself?!” Vernon’s sudden raise of voice made you jump as you looked back at him surprised, “This isn’t a little disciplinary spank a parent does from time to time, Y/N. He’s abusing you!”

You didn’t need someone to tell you, you were well aware of that. You threw Vernon a glare and crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Thanks for stating the obvious—”

“No, don’t do that!” He snapped, undoing his seatbelt in his anger, to be able to turn towards you better, “This isn’t something that can be treated lightly, Y/N! You need to tell someone; he has to stop. He has no rights laying his hands on you, do you understand me?”

“Do you understand that I know but I won’t do anything?” You raised your voice as well, your glare becoming harsh, “If I want my life to be ruined forever, sure, I’ll go tell the authorities.”

“He can’t ruin your life for something he did knowingly that it’s wrong—” His words became white noise as you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself. Vernon was the last person you needed lecturing from, especially since you were getting this treatment because he was better than you at one fucking subject. Your anger went through the roof and you snaped, unable to take his words.

“Shut up, it’s all because of you!” Vernon’s eyes went wide and he looked so confused, you felt bad for telling him that, “You’re better at English than I am, my father can’t stand that. I have to be best at everything. It’s why I could never stand you, unknowingly you made me hurt. And it’s a shit reason, I know, but it’s true…”

Vernon looked speechless until he started looking regretful and he grabbed your hand again, despite your glare, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” You scoffed, throwing him a look, “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry, I only have to put up with his shit for three more months. I’ll be moving out.”

“Does he know?” Vernon’s eyebrows rose and you scoffed again.

“Of course not. Why would I tell him? He keeps threatening me so I don’t see why I shouldn’t make his threats reality before he gets to proceed with them.” Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Come move in with us.” You weren’t expecting that at all and your eyes grew wide as you stared at Vernon. Move in with him and his family? That sounded weird, you could manage on your own too. It wasn’t that hard, right?

“I can’t, that house is already packed with you four and Chan spending his time there too.”

“Sofia would love to have another girl around the house, please?”

“Vernon, this isn’t something you get to decide. That house is your parents’ and I can’t show up unannounced, okay?” Your eyebrows rose at him and he sighed, knowing what you were saying was right.

“Fine, but think about it…” You nodded once and he took his hand off from yours, you uncrossed your arms, “Do you really hate me?”

You thought for a second as you watched him, not knowing how to answer him, because you didn’t know how you felt for him. You didn’t actually hate him, but you did envy him.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you…” You muttered and Vernon sighed, leaning back in the seat, “But I don’t think I hate you. I thought you sucked, but maybe you aren’t that bad.”

It made Vernon chuckle and when he looked over at you, your heart started beating quickly again and you blushed. If you constantly kept reacting like that it meant that you actually felt something more for him, right? Yoona must have been right, she never joked around with things like this one, and you bit your lower lip as the two of you watched each other quietly. You were always bold with others and merciless, not really caring if they got hurt by your words or not. You felt like you gave Vernon the wrong idea and now he might have been convinced that you hated him, which wasn’t true at all. You thought maybe you should be bold for once with your actions too and you cleared your throat, which made Vernon glance at you. He wasn’t making it easier but maybe if he saw you leaning in, he wouldn’t pull away in surprise. So, you leaned over the middle console and with your eyes on his lips, you tried closing the gap but Vernon was too far away. It would have been embarrassing if Vernon had not leaned in as well, pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t as bad as you thought your first kiss would be, his lips were soft and you found that cute. It didn’t last for long either because Vernon seemed to be flustered as he stiffly pulled his head back, looking into your eyes.

“You might not be my favorite person in the world, but I think I like you.” You found yourself saying and Vernon chuckled, scratching the back of his nape as his ears and neck were red.

“Go on a date with me? Even if I lost the bet….” Vernon asked with a cheeky grin, looking just as flustered as moments ago and it made you chuckle.

“I made that bet because I knew you would lose, but sure.” It was time things took a better turn in your life and maybe Vernon was the starting point.

156 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

NHS ghost travels to the past and the only ones who can see him clearly are baby!NHS & NMJ

on ao3

“Would you believe that I’m a saber spirit?” the ghost asked. “Or maybe an ancestor?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. He did not put down the exorcism talisman.

The ghost sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

Before Nie Mingjue could do anything more, the ghost rushed at him – taken aback, Nie Mingjue flinched, and when he opened his eyes again the ghost was gone.

He still pinned the talisman onto the swaddling wrapped around his baby brother, who was grumbling in sleepy dissatisfaction at having been nearly woken up.

He wasn’t taking any chances with his brother’s health.

“I’m actually not dangerous,” the ghost argued. He’d figured out that if he hovered high enough, Nie Mingjue wouldn’t be able to get at him – though he still flinched whenever Nie Mingjue threw rocks at him. He must be a relatively new ghost. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but I’m here to help.”

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue said. There were plenty of pebbles next to the place where laundry got done, and he could grab one without being spotted whenever he dunked the clothing in. “I believe you. Come down here a little closer, I’ll believe you some more.”

The ghost sighed.

“Just give me a chance, okay?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I have good reasons –”

“Don’t care.”

“If you come any closer, I’ll douse you in a male virgin’s urine,” Nie Mingjue said. “Ghosts are supposed to hate that.”

The ghost huffed. “Like I’m dumb enough come near you when you’re swaddling the baby anyway.”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving! Just put Baxia down already!”

“You need more salt.”

“I thought ghosts hated that, too?”

“Maybe it’s rock salt ghosts hate?” the ghost asked, floating over Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “I don’t think I have anything against proper seasoning.”

Nie Mingjue huffed, rolling his eyes, but he did add a little more salt.

“Ah ha!” the ghost exclaimed. “You are starting to listen to me!”

“That’s when the recipes says to put it in,” Nie Mingjue said. “I was always going to add some more of it in then.”

“I don’t believe you! You were definitely listening!”

“Listen, if I was a normal ghost, your father would have totally gotten rid of me, right?”

“Never said I thought you were normal,” Nie Mingjue said, soothing his brother to sleep in his arms with soft murmurs and a gentle voice that did not come naturally to him. “I said you were a pest. Did I ever say anything about being normal?”

“…no, I guess not,” the ghost conceded. “Damnit, I thought I was onto something with that. Also, shouldn’t a nursemaid be doing that?”

“Can’t be trusted,” Nie Mingjue said.

The ghost frowned, then blanched. “Right, right,” he murmured. “I nearly forgot, what happened with – uh, what happened right around that time. That would have been recently, too, wouldn’t it? You’ve always remembered it better.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t say anything.

“Still, you’re only seven. Even if they were scared to hire a nursemaid for fear of letting in another assassin, shouldn’t someone else be doing this?”

“I’m eight,” Nie Mingjue said.

“The point still stands. Surely one of the servants..?”

Nie Mingjue sighed. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re at war,” he explained. “Everyone who can swing a saber is out fighting it, and that includes the servants.”

“I thought it was too quiet,” the ghost said, half to himself. “I haven’t seen anyone else in – okay, actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen anyone.”

“War,” Nie Mingjue said.

“You’re eight,” the ghost said. He looked upset. “How could they leave you alone like this? You make your own food, you do the laundry, you take care of – this is ridiculous! There must be people who are too old to go that could help…there must be other children! Where are the other children?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t say anything.

Nie Huaisang needed his sleep, after all.

“I refuse to let this go,” the ghost said. “Even if – especially if – a whole bunch of the other kids died or something, even if all of them died, which they didn’t, there’s absolutely no reason for you to be left alone like this.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He’d hoped that the ghost would let it drop, but apparently, no.

Apparently, he was going to have to engage.

(Nie Huaisang waving his hands at the ghost, burbling happily, had nothing to do with that decision.)

“You assume they left me,” he said. “You have it backwards.”

“…what?”

“I ran away,” Nie Mingjue explained, and the ghost’s jaw dropped. “This place was abandoned because of the war – too awkward an outpost to be worth it for either side – and I took my brother and we came here, just me and him and Baxia. I’m planning on staying until the war’s over.”

“But why? You’re the heir.”

“Yeah,” Nie Mingjue said. “That’s why.”

“…what?”

“It’s ‘sang’ as in mulberry leaves, right?” he asked. “For his name? I heard you whispering it to him.”

“I - yeah, it’s mulberry,” the ghost said, blinking at him. “And ‘huai’ as in ‘to hold’…but you know that already, surely?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

The ghost stared at him. He didn’t blink, which was typical of ghosts, but still a bit unnerving.

“You named the child, didn’t you,” the ghost said. It wasn’t a question. “You take care of him, you raise him, you’re refusing to return home…it’s war, you said. Because of the massacre of the junior generation that everyone pretended was an accident but wasn’t, because of Mother’s death from that assassin pretending to be a nursemaid. People do things when they get angry, during war. What was going to happen to – to the baby?”

“Massacre at his conception, declaration of war at his quickening, assassination at his birth,” Nie Mingjue recited. “That’s three bad things; bad luck comes in fours, and we really can’t afford to lose this war. Newborns die easy as flipping over your hand, and maybe the next one won’t be so unlucky, won’t be a calamity star – that sort of thing. It was too dangerous.”

“Oh,” the ghost said. “I never knew.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who would have told you? I would’ve killed them, first.”

The ghost twitched, and stared at him.

“I like Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s a good name. Even if how you got it is a bit circular.”

“Someone murders you,” the ghost – Nie Huaisang of the future, as Nie Mingjue had long ago figured out, but it was easier to keep thinking of him as ‘the ghost’ – said, sitting with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. It’d be a sad and pathetic sight, except for the way he was sitting on the ceiling. “I was trying to come back to stop it from happening…maybe even prevent our father’s murder, too, if I could. That happens when you’re fifteen, by the way. You have to inherit, and spend the rest of your life avenging him.”

“Do I succeed?”

“…yes.”

“That’s good, then,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Don’t you want to know more?”

“Why? Are you planning on going somewhere?”

The ghost uncurled himself from his dramatic misery to float down until his head (still upside down) was floating in front of Nie Mingjue. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Ghosts that resolve their business are liberated,” Nie Mingjue said. “Maybe I like having you around.”

“…oh.”

“One day you’re going to save the world,” the ghost told him.

“Today, you already have,” Nie Mingjue replied.

“Maybe I never went back in time,” the ghost said. “Maybe I’m just dead, and this is one of the eighteen hells, punishing me for everything I’ve done.”

“Are you having a bad time?” Nie Mingjue asked. He himself was having a good time: Nie Huaisang wasn’t crying, for once, and he had him sitting in his lap, a stick wrapped in his little baby hand (supported by Nie Mingjue, of course) waiving in the air in the rudimentary beginnings of proper saber forms.

“Well, no. But then again, ‘everything I’ve done’ wasn’t that bad, and all done in the name of filial piety – I even bought already-dead cats – well, except for little Mo Xuanyu. He deserved better than he got from everyone, me included.”

“None of that made even the slightest bit of sense to me, you know,” Nie Mingjue said. “But if you feel so bad about it, I promise to change it this time around.”

“No, you don’t understand,” the ghost said. “If this is the underworld, then you wouldn’t have the chance to change it. We’d just repeat this over and over again, forever!”

“How many times has it been for you, then?”

“Well, only one. But it could be the beginning of many times! Or – or – maybe I’ve forgotten the previous times!”

“Seems like a pretty stupid punishment if you just forget about it,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hmm. Good point.”

“You’re prone to anxiety, aren’t you?” Nie Mingjue said to the Nie Huaisang in his arms, who made an expression that was clearly his best effort at smiling. He was still building up those facial muscles. “We’ll have to work on that, in this life.”

“Hey!”

“Okay, so, positing that this whole living in an abandoned outpost is a real thing that is happened and is still happening, which I’m still not convinced of –”

“I don’t seem like the type to run away?”

“…you were always very righteous.”

“Sometimes, righteous people do stupid things,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Remind me to tell you about someone called Wei Wuxian,” the ghost said, now thoroughly distracted. “He’s more or less the walking, talking incarnation of that…”

“Did he have a sad childhood?”

“What? I mean, I guess so? His parents died, he lived on the streets for a while, developed a fear of dogs, but then he got rescued by Jiang Fengmian and adopted, so – are you taking notes?”

“How else am I supposed to keep track of all these names?”

“Maybe you should go pick up Meng Yao. If you’re planning on changing things, I mean.”

Nie Mingjue squinted at the ghost, who was supervising the stew he was making. It was meat, for once – a pheasant that had conveniently gotten scared to death. The ghost had gotten very creative in how he could help out despite his general incorporeality. “Isn’t that the name of the person who eventually kills me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Why would I go help him?”

“…he had a very sad childhood?”

“If I adopt everyone you say had a sad childhood, there won’t be a junior generation anymore,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “They’ll all be Nie sect.”

“And it would be better for them.”

“Annoying for me, though.”

“ – and that’s what demonic cultivation is,” the ghost concluded. “Why do you ask?”

“I have absolutely no reason to be interested in a type of cultivation specifically designed to make dead creatures do what I say, including shutting up whenever they’ve started talking in the middle of the night,” Nie Mingjue said, yawning. “None whatsoever.”

“It’s not that late, it’s only – hmm. Oops.”

“It’s not that different from what I do with Baxia,” Nie Mingjue argued.

“What you do with Baxia eventually kills you,” the ghost argued back.

“I thought you said I was murdered?”

“Through an existing weakness!”

“Without which the world will end, so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine at all!”

“I’m just saying, it would be –”

“No! I am not letting you demonically cultivate with me, and that’s final!”

“Fine!”

“Your older self is so annoying,” Nie Mingjue told Nie Huaisang after the ghost had stormed off. Through a wall, no less, and that was purely to be especially dramatic about it since Nie Mingjue knew that he knew where the doors were. “Such a pest!”

“If we’re going to do this – I can’t believe we’re going to do this – we’re doing it slowly,” the ghost said. “You hear me? Slowly. I don’t care how much of a cultivation genius you are.”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“And no one ever finds out about it, okay? No one. If someone happens to see me, you need to lie and say that I – that I’m –”

“A saber spirit?”

“Shut up.”

“Baba!” Nie Huaisang burbled, or at least something that sounded vaguely similar. He was probably a few months too young for actual speech, though.

“Da-ge,” Nie Mingjue corrected, just in case.

The ghost sniggered. “So much of my childhood is suddenly explained, you have no idea.”

“I think I’m going to tell him to call you mama,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully. “What do you think that’ll explain?”

“You’re depressingly good at this,” the ghost said. “I mean, everyone always said you were a genius, but you’re really good at cultivation.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“I still think you should hold off on the demonic cultivation aspects.”

“We’ve already agreed to disagree,” Nie Mingjue said. “And knowing demonic cultivation helps me refine my cultivation of Baxia as well – I can filter out only the finest resentful energy for her.”

“You make it sound like cat food.”

“Since you also thrive on resentful energy, what does that make you?”

“A mouse, surely.”

“Nah. Hedgehog.”

The ghost acted as if it had been stabbed and fell over backwards.

Dramatic bastard.

“There’s a person outside,” the ghost said. “They’re at the edge of the boundaries.”

Nie Mingjue could feel his shoulders stiffen. “What are they wearing?”

“Nie colors. I would’ve taken care of it myself if it was a Wen.”

They’d had an incident with a Wen squad coming too close, once.

The ghost, strengthened by Nie Mingjue’s demonic cultivation and the bond he’d formed between him and Baxia, had ripped the cultivators in the Wen patrol squad to pieces before they’d gotten too close.

Nie Mingjue had told him that he appreciated the enthusiasm, but to try to keep the mess down a bit next time. All that blood had attracted predators willing to feast on human flesh, and Nie Huaisang was still small.

“What boundary?” he asked, and went to go look down at it from one of the windows. “Oh.”

“Is this going to be a problem?” the ghost wanted to know.

Nie Mingjue looked at the man walking up. “No,” he said. “No problem.”

“What does he want? Is he going to make trouble for Sangsang?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “Just for me.”

He waited outside the door, Baxia in his hand.

His father came to a stop a reasonable distance away. “What will it cost for you to return?” he asked.

It was about what Nie Mingjue had expected. They were a practical family.

Nie Mingjue didn’t have memories of his future life, and the ghost didn’t remember this period of his previous life: the months they had spent together in this abandoned fortress, the way Nie Mingjue taught him to smile and to crawl, fed him and changed him and slept with him to calm him, the life they had shared in the world without the ghost.

Still, he had asked the ghost the questions he had wanted answered, casually dropping names into conversation with the ghost to judge his response, and he figured out what his answer must have been in that life before.

He’d asked for the heads of those that had directly threatened Nie Huaisang, and an oath that the sect would honor Nie Huaisang as the heir, that he would be sect leader following Nie Mingjue. He’d gotten what he’d asked for, but what had been meant as a gift had in the end only been a burden – the ghost wouldn’t have been so desperate to come back to this time if it wasn’t.

He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

He smiled.

“I’d like to make some changes,” he said, thinking of all the people that the ghost had talked about – all the ones who had sad childhoods. Many were the children of the other Great Sects, which would make things tricky to start – most people didn’t want their children raised by outsiders – but he’d thought of ways to make it work, and he knew the investment would ultimately bear fruit. His father, ruthless as he was, would understand that part of it, at least, even if he didn’t understand the rest. “Back me in full, or lose me forever.”

This was even more of a gamble than what he had asked for in his past life. A few heads, even of loyal servants, didn’t matter much, compared to blood – a blank slate was a far more dangerous request.

His father looked him over, and Nie Mingjue knew that he was calculating whether it was worth it. Whether it was Nie Mingjue’s head that he should take, this time, since he himself was still young enough to have more sons. But Nie Mingjue had learned from the ghost all the secrets he’d known about his own future cultivation, added to it the demonic cultivation he’d deduced, and he was, in the end, a genius.

There was a reason he was confident enough to make the request.

“Very well,” his father said. “I will back you.”

They told everyone that the ghost was an ancestor.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lao nie #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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