#something small for now for this au I am working on something else tho!

[notamortician]

if anyone’s wondering where issun is during ammys adventures on gunsmoke

#best knives I think I’ve drawn which is kinda funny #something small for now for this au I am working on something else tho! #the adventures of ammy #trigun #trigun stampede #millions knives #trigun knives #okami #okami hd #okami issun #art #my art #tor’s art #fantasy #sketch

[sarahs-secrets2]

Heart First (Phillip Graves x Reader)࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

More of me pushing the cowboy country graves agenda, I guess this is an AU? idk tho if I'm using that correctly. This is my magnum opus, I have never written something as detailed as this

based on Heartfirst by Kelsea Ballerini

fem! (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: soso much fluff, swearing, pet names, tad cheesy

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

The cafe was busy with regulars pushing in and out of doors grabbing their coffees before heading to work. You waited off to the side for your drink as the smell of fresh coffee saturated the air. 

“Iced latte to-go” the barista shouted out your order, sliding it across the counter. Before you could even grab it, someone else beat you to it. The man grabbed the coffee and popped a straw into the lid. 

“Excuse me, sorry” you approached the blonde man, “I think that’s my drink”, you pointed to the coffee sitting comfortably in his hands. 

“Sorry about that doll, but I’m in a bit of a rush and I ordered the exact same thing, so go ‘head and you can have mine when it comes out, yeah?”, he winked as he headed out of the door. 

“What the hell?” your hands dropped to your sides with a sigh as the blonde disappeared onto the street. Another 5 minutes passed before the barista finally called out another iced latte allowing you to head home to visit your parents. 

It had been years since you had visited, life had gotten busy and you hadn't gotten a chance to get home. Your parents had recently gotten a small little farm in Texas, some horses, and land. A smile crept across your face as you pulled up the gravel driveway, your parents waiting on the porch waving at you.

You jumped out of the car, grabbing your bags, “Mom, Dad, I missed you guys,” setting your bags down and pulling them both in for a hug. 

“Oh, honey, we missed you,” your mom squeezed you extra tight,

“Thought you’d never come home dear”, your dad chuckled as he rubbed the top of your head.

“Sorry, it took me so long to get down here, been busy”, your parents ushered you into the house, taking your bags for you, “How’s the new farm been doing?”

“Oh good, we hired this handsome boy to help with the horses, your dad is getting old he can't be out there every day you know,"

“I am not getting old, just tired that’s all,"

“Who’s the boy?” interjecting to your parents' bickering

“Oh what’s his name," your mom patted your dad’s arm trying to recall the name

“Phillip Graves dear,”

“Yes, Graves, what an odd name,”

“Well, he’s military maybe that’s why honey,”

“I forgot about that, what did he do again?”

“Mom- is he here now?”

“I think so honey, he got here earlier, he’s been so helpful in the barn," your mom gushed, “Go ahead and go introduce yourself,”

“Okay then, I’ll be right back,” you headed out the back door, down the path leading toward the barn. 

Entering the barn you saw the back of a blonde, cowboy hat sitting atop his head. He was tending to one of the horses, brushing through its mane.

“You must be Phillip Graves,"

He turned around to face you, and it hit you. He was the same blonde from the coffee shop, the same one who stole your coffee. 

“You-”

“I remember you,” he pointed a finger in your direction, “Girl from the coffee shop, you ever get that latte?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you," faking a frown and crossing your arms as you looked at him

“Oh don't be like that doll," he smiled and tipped his hat at you. He slowly began to saunter across the barn to you. “So what do I owe the pleasure? You follow me here all the way from the coffee shop?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy, I’m visiting my parents,”

“Parents? Your folks own this place?”

“Don’t look so shocked there," you began to walk towards him, meeting in the center of the barn.

“Didn’t expect a girl like you to have parents who had a farm that’s all,” he stuffed his hands in his front pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. He sported blue jeans that were covered in light dust from the horses. On top, he wore a tight black t-shirt that displayed his arms perfectly. The thing you weren't expecting was how handsome he was, he had a chiseled face, blue eyes, fluffy blonde hair that peeked out under the tan cowboy hat, and a scar that stretched down his cheek.

“A girl like me huh?”, you laughed to yourself

“I'm surprised you're in a barn, don't want you to break a nail do we, princess?”

“Oh c’mon now, Phillip was it? I would hate to see you lose this lovely job with my parents,”

“Now we don't need to jump to that now do we? Let me take you on a ride yeah? Prove to me you aren't a city girl,”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,"

Phillip wandered over towards the horse he was tending earlier, slipping on its reins and getting the saddle prepared. He led the horse out of the stable and outside the barn, “You comin’ doll?”, you jogged quickly over towards Graves and the horse. “Go ‘head hop on up,” he steadied the horse.

“No way in hell, you’re gonna have to help me up,"

“Okay city girl, don’t worry, how bout I pull you up instead?” before you could answer he hoisted himself up on the horse, and stuck his hand out for you. “I gotcha don’t worry”, grabbing his hand you pulled yourself up as he held on tightly making sure you didn't fall

“That wasn't so hard now was it '' he laughed as he looked back at you. 

“Whatever Graves,"

“You ready city girl?”, you nodded, “You better hold on back there, don't want you fallin’ off, what would I tell your folks if I lost ya?”

“Enough talking cowboy let’s go, "your hands wrapped around his waist as he clicked his tongue signaling the horse to go. The sudden movement caused you to tighten your grip around his waist, pulling yourself closer to the blonde. He led the horse through the field behind the barn, maneuvering through creeks and faded trails in the woods.

“Where are we going?” 

“Don’t you worry I got it handled, you just focus on holdin’ on back there," he clicked his tongue again causing the horse to speed up. 

After a few more minutes of riding around, Phillip slowed the horse at the top of a hill. He eventually hopped down, then held his hand out for you, helping you off the horse. 

“You did well city girl, surprised me," he nudged your shoulder as the pair of you walked up the hill, Phillip guiding the horse with the reins in one hand. 

“Glad I could surprise you, cowboy, I’m still pissed about that coffee though,”

“How about this,” he stopped looking at you, “Next one's on me,”

“I’d like that," you smiled back at him before looking around. The sun had begun to set, casting a golden hue around you and the blonde. “Where are we, Phillip?”

“Just this lookout point I found one day, thought I’d take ya out here. They don’t have views like this in the city do they?”

“You’re right, they don't”, you sighed as you walked toward the cliff edge, “What brought you to Texas, Phillip Graves?” you sat on the ground as he tied up the horse to a tree branch. 

“Always been a Texas boy, just found my way back not too long ago”, he walked over and sat down next to you, “I used to be military, CEO of Shadow Company,”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking,”

“Ahh, I think that's a story for another time but it was time for me to go,” he sighed looking out into the distance before turning to face you, “Why’d you leave Texas?”

“A new life, new job, new scenery,” you leaned back on your hands, taking in the view.

“Understandable, nothin’ beats this though huh?” the sun had set completely and the moon and stars now littered the sky. He copied your movement leaning back on his hands, placing his hand on top of yours. “You want to come back to mine?”

The voice in your head telling you to slow down and be realistic but tonight you put your heart first. 

“I would like that yeah,” he grabbed your hand helping you up and back on the horse as the two of you rode to his house. 

“My parents won't mind about the horse?”

“I got you with me don't I? And to answer that no, as long as she’s back in the mornin’ they don’t mind”, he laughed as he threw you a wink. Luckily Phillip had his own stables where the house stayed for the night.

Graves unlocked the front door letting you in first, “Make yourself at home, you need anythin’ doll? A water?”

“No I’m good thank you,” you smiled sweetly, “I hate to damper the night but I am so beyond tired from traveling all day and some crazy guy stole my coffee, so-,”

“What kinda crazy person steals a coffee? And we can head to bed, don’t worry ‘bout it”, he led you through the hallway to the master bedroom. “You need pajamas don’t ya?”

“Yes please oh my god, I wasn't prepared to sleep in jeans,”

Phillip laughed as he dug through a drawer pulling out a cotton t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, “Hope these work alright”, he smiled handing them to you, “Bathroom is through those doors so you can change,”

“Thank you,” you returned the smile before walking into the bathroom and slipping on the shirt and sweats, both fitting comfortably oversized. When you walked back into the bedroom Phillip was shirtless and in his boxers, his form of pajamas. 

“Think my clothes look better on you than me doll”,  he laughed as you posed in the new outfit you dawned. Phillips walked towards the bed pulling back the covers before slipping in. 

“Come on in”, he pulled back the sheets on the other side of the bed, allowing you to jump in next to him. His hand wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him as he lay behind you. 

“You aren't too bad city girl, you know that?”

“You aren't too bad yourself cowboy,” a small blush crept across your cheeks, lucky for you it was dark and he wouldn't be able to see. 

“Goodnight darlin’, I’ll treat you to that coffee in the mornin’,”

“Goodnight Phillip Graves,” as your eyes closed you could only think about how it would feel to wake up in his t-shirt in the morning. 

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

disclaimer I didn't proofread this, I will in the morning when I'm not sleep-deprived, also ignore the rushed ending I got sleepy

#Spotify #phillip graves cod #phillip graves #philip graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves imagine #phillip graves x you #cod #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod graves #call of duty #warren kole #graves x reader #graves mw2

[tonberry-yoda]

BROO ALL MY FAVORITE WRITERS ARE OPENING THE INBOX, CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY FR OK OK SO JJBA part 3 Stardust crusaders headcannons (I'm so original, I know) everyone lives au (bc if I simply close my eyes no one died on that journey, it DIDN'T HAPPEN) I like to think the crusaders and reader meet up again after like a year or two after the journey, and I just wanna see reactions of everyone seeing eachother again, the reader looking totally different (for the better!!) And all I can think about is just the shenanigans they'll all get up to after not seeing eachother for like two years. (They kept in touch via letters mostly!) I like to think Jotaro and Kakyoin actually see eachother everyday because Kak tranferred schools :') so they besties. Platonic crusaders give me so much serotonin. You can pick whatever theme you want on what they'd all do, (maybe Christmas themed since its getting close to that time?? Up to you though!!)

I LITERALLY LOVE THAT I AM THE ONE TO REVIVE THE CRUSADERS!!! I love this idea and have some great headcanons, so thank you for the request!!!

seriously tho, i love this idea

you were very pleased to get a letter from Holly inviting you over to her home

it had been over two years since you had seen the crusaders last, the only words spoken to each other through brief letters sent back and forth

you were expecting to only see jotaro and maybe kakyoin because the letter was from holly and only asked you to come over for a week

it was also perfect timing because it was right around christmas, so you had bought a bunch of gifts, not knowing who else would be there

you showed up to the house and were immediately greeted by holly and a big hug as she took the gifts from you, putting them under a small tree she had set up for the season

you and her ended up talking for a little while about what you had been up to and she told you that you looked fantastic!!

after a bit, you heard the door open and stood up to find not only jotaro at the door, but kakyoin as well!

you ran over to them and jumped in their arms

they both looked at you in shock, telling you how good you looked and you said the same

you thought it was nice that jotaro and kakyoin had each other after something like egypt because that was quite the experience

seeing them smiling together made you really happy

you handed them two presents that you thought they would like and they opened it rapidly with bright smiles on their faces thanking you

surprisingly, you guys dont talk about your travels to egypt, instead you all talk about what you're currently up to

and then suddenly, you hear a ring at the door

holly opens it and you werent even prepared for the attack of iggy jumping on you and giving you kisses all over your face. you giggled and hugged him, soon getting a small kiss on the cheek from polnareff, telling you how great you look

you sat up completely and saw all of the group and couldnt help but smile

everyone was here again

avdol looked great, bringing some tarot cards to do everyone's reading

joseph was still the same

and polanreff had a bright look on his face, very happy to be surrounded by everyone again

he had been the most lonely only with iggy, so he's just super thrilled to be back

you gave everyone their corresponding presents and you even got some yourself

you ended up all having dinner and talking before you all worked hard to clean up together, splashing dish water on each other and using your stands to play tag or hide and seek

you all ended up staying up until midnight watching some really bad movie and all ending up in weird positions falling asleep in each other's arms

the rest of the week was great, walking all around jotaro's hometown and telling each other jokes

there were small mentions of your time in egypt, but for now, you were building a new future together <333

~~~~~

jjba masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

#i loved this one #thank you for the request!!! #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #platonic jjba #platonic #sdc #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #jean pierre polnareff #mohammad avdol #joseph joestar #jjba part 3

[bunny-j3st3r]

Ref images courtesy of @hollowsart

for the sake of explanation even though it’s just my sona I’m gonna refer to myself in third person lmao.

In canon Au Sai is a mutant that was a marine biologist (I am not that irl sad it was something I wanted to study tho :( ) and had the ability to go to deep depths that humans typically couldn’t descend to because of there body having gills under their fur and their fur being basically insulation for deep waters (they would come out somewhat dry after being in the water, think magic and but not perfectly dry) and this was how they found Ferrol.

In this other au I think they would still be a marine biologist but they never went out to the trench at that time, maybe a punishment from Norman for trying to be a smart ass when they accused Norman of dumping oil and trash into the oceans.

So they got down graded away from the aquarium and ended up having to do a lot of paper work write up at a different lab, this lab happened to be where geneticized animals where being tested on to see if they could more helpful in the future for human kind.

Being a mutant they weren’t all to keen working in this area and they where pretty sure that’s why Norman placed them in there but the plus side was they made decent friends with a couple of the scientists there and would often go and see what they would be working on and give there opinions and thoughts.

At some point of time testing on spiders had began, now because of this they avoided the main labs for a short time as having a fear of spiders they didn’t really want to be around them, until they got an alert email.

A genetically modified Theridion grallator spider had seemingly gone missing, as small as it was they weren’t sure what damages it could do since they had yet to test this out.

As they read this and thought about leaving for the day till they found it, they felt a sharp nip on there neck, instantly slamming a hand down on to there neck they then found the poor creature, ah, they knew the other scientists weren’t going to be particularly happy but they were at fault for this one, should of taken better care of it.

Over the course of a few days they began to find themselves going through some changes, sure they where a shape shifter but there body was doing things that they knew couldn’t normally do and it was then that the process of Jester spider began to come into play.

some lil bits of info

- There spider name is Jester Spider due to the spider that bit them being called a clown faced spider, they designed there costume around a jester but they also gain a more exciting and freeing personality when in costume, thus calling themselves Jester.

- When in costume Sai does not speak, they use squeaks and honks to respond to situations, this is beneficial for them as not using there voice makes it a lot harder to figure out who they are.

- They modified there webbing so it acts still like webbing but also looks like silly string, each shot comes out a different colour. it’s also bio degradable so will often waste away after a day or so as if it were never there.

- Out of costume they seem to be more relaxed and almost tired all of the time, they prefer to take it easy. In costume they are more hyper and playful but they are also really hard to read, this makes them a rather chaotic foe for enemies as they really can not judge there next move.

- Before they got bit there tail wasn’t really that strong, it could be used to help them swim but they couldn’t really do much else with it, after getting bit they seem to be able to use it like a third arm, it’s able to pick things up as well as able to hang them from high places if they don’t particularly want to waste webbing. 

- They have bells on there costume but for some reason can still move extremely stealth like, the bells only seem to ring excitedly during fights.

- They are extremely nimble although it does not look it from there size, but they can move and play the same way a jester would act and perform tricks.

- They don’t shape shift in costume, harder to do and they would be found out quick who they were.

- More mutant types are to be expected in this au and ‘Jester’ has been accused of favouring them over humans, which isn’t true but when humans are protesting mutants just living peacefully it’s a little hard not to choose sides.

- JJJ still calls them a menace so in defiance they break into JJJ’s office a lot and leave small harmless pranks around, they think it’s funny but only seems to annoy JJJ more.

- They have there own villains to deal with here but because of there unpredictable nature, villains tend to find ‘Jester’ very hard to deal with, espically since ‘Jester’ just tends to go in with no game plan other than stop villain and keep civilians safe, but villains aren’t actually ever sure if Jester would keep civilians safe just to stop them because they act so chaotic. (the answer is yes Sai will protect civilians even if it doesn't seem it)

- They can pull tech things they need out from under there hat, this includes web bombs, spider drones, etc, the fun part is they don’t ever actually know what they might pull out, so it could be helpful, might also not be.

#spidersona #jester spider

[minecraftbookshelf]

Marriage of State AU Fic Titles: Theories & Responses

@fanny-passerine I am absolutely blown away by how much thought and effort you put into this and it's getting it's own post because the original was getting a bit long XD

Also I do have more than this planned, i just also have a couple that are currently basically titled "Character X Does Y" right now as place holders because I have no idea what I want to title them.

An Unexpected Adventure -> this one is kind of vague, but I think it may be able being lost somewhere with people the narrator/main character usually doesn't hang out with ! In a strange situation probably. It may be something dumb that caused this adventure.

It is a bit vague, that one is one of the fic titles that was less set in stone, it was basically a mishmash of the memed line from the Hobbit movie "I'm going on an adventure!" and the first chapter title of the Hobbit Book "An Unexpected Party" I actually had a worldbuilding development while rubber-ducking at a friend that has completely changed the tone of the events of this particular one so it is probably going to be renamed. But it absolutely is and was something dumb that caused this adventure XD

0.5 Points

Divine Dust -> probably something to do with religion, so my guess is probably Xonorth or Scott, because you already talked about that religious trauma, so I can see it fit.

Definitely a bit religion heavy (tho a lot of these are, due to the nature of both the canon and by extension the au) This is actually Pix's backstory!

Down in the Meadow in the Itty Bitty Pool -> I had to search for this one because I'm french soooo cultural differences but it's a reference to a children song about three little fishes and their mother fish, and from what I get the three little fishes want to have fun without caring about consequences (like all kids) and the mother is scared they'll get lost. Then the little fishes almost get eaten. So they go back to their mother.

(I honestly think most knew about this one but I didn't so! There was a recap)

So yeah, with all the fishes I would have thought it was about the seablings, but at the same time there's 3 little fishes, not 2... But on the other hand, Jimmy is always presented as hot-blooded and fast to take decisions, from what I've seen. So my guess is that Lizzie is the mother fish and that Jimmy is the little fish wanting some freedom but putting himself in danger by doing so.

It is from that nursery song, tho I think a simplified version (and also the version I learned when I was small was very dialectal and I had to very carefully type the title so I didn't type "down by the meddy in the itty bitty poo") The relevant parts for the fic are that it's a kids song and about fish in water.

The "one sentence summary" i have jotted down for this one is "Jimmy Solidarity and the World's Longest Childhood"

1.0 Point!

Golden Fields, Copper Sands -> golden fields are Pearl, copper sands.... Well Copper King. Pixl. I think. Their relationship, and their interactions.

The golden fields are indeed Pearl! These are the copper sands

the training arena on the border of Mythland and Gilded Helianthia

This is Pearl's backstory

1.0 Points!

In the Hall of the Ocean Queen -> this one is quite clear, I think it will tackle a political meeting, maybe ? Negociations and things of this sort. "Hall" usually refers to a fancy, grand room.

There are certainly a lot of politics involved XD

This is the first big fic, the one I'm working on right now, "Local Prince Marries Tall Murder-Salamander Queen. They Fall in Love"

Just Keep Swimming -> if we take this in the literal sense, one of the seablings, or the two of them. Or it's figurative, and then I don't know. Something about focusing on keep moving. Keep living. Don't focus on anything else. Live. Or even just survive ?

You actually hit this pretty much right on the money! This is the Lizzie backstory.

1.5 Points!

Lost and Found -> Shrub, because I don't have anywhere else where to fit her, but also because the things found in a Lost and Found are usually small things, and Shrub is a gnome.... Which is small... That's a stretch I know.

Shrub plays a roll in this one but it's not her story. :D

It has the potential alternate title of Unlost.

Meddling in Dragon's Affairs -> the roseblings ! They get ender dragons at the end of the serie, right ? I believe. And also Fwhip's elytras are a little dragon coded, so...

Very close! This one is about Gem. It's part backstory part Current Events Leading Into Major Plot

0.5 Points!

Mistakes were made -> this one is gonna be about a quiproquo, I think. Maybe due to cultural differences. There must be many of them, especially with arranged marriage, so that's my guess. Or someone is gonna fall in love when they didn't plan on doing so (who does, honestly, but I'm more talking about a "them? Oh I'm fucked" moment).

The ending moments of this one are definitely "Oh I'm fucked" in vibes that's for sure, though not romantically coded in anyway. This one is a short one-shot featuring mostly Sausage and Shrub.

My Brothers Keeper -> I think it's from either from Lizzie's pov, Gem's pov, Scott's pov or Xornoth's pov, because they all have brothers, and we're talking about "my brothers keeper"...

This was the second concept i came up with for this specific au, Xornoth's backstory.

1.0 Point!

Peace in our Time -> okay isn't Katherine kingdom all about peace and negociations, or is that only a fanon belief ? So maybe that's a fic about Katherine's thoughts on being the peaceful one, hoping to achieve peace in her time ? Not my most creative guess (as if they were creative honestly) but I think it might be that.

Katherine's thing is neutrality, more than peace. Peace is mentioned of course and is a priority but her primary focus is staying out of conflicts. This is one of the titles I'm a little less certain of and am kind of hoping a better one will come to me as i actually write it, it's the Flower Husband's fic.

Rose of Fire -> Fwhip, Gem, Pearl or Sausage ! With the Wither Rose alliance. I've got a feeling it may be more about Fwhip, though. Don't ask me why. It's just a feeling.

Well your feeling is absolutely correct this is Fwip's backstory (that does heavily feature Gem and Sausage)

2.0 Points!

Wild One -> okay I always hear this wording when talking about a wild kid who has ton of energy and doesn't trust easily a little like an animal so... Young Jimmy maybe ?

I got the title from this song and it is someone's backstory, that's where I'll leave it for now :)

We're All Mad Here -> now that's a reference to Alice in Wonderland. The Mad Hatter says that about the Wonderland, I believe. Sooo it could refer to a strange empire. My guess kind of is Joey and Xornoth ? Their relationship. In canon, it's quite intense. Or Joel maybe ? With the idea that all his inhabitants are statues made in his image, it's quite... Crazy, and uncanny when you think about it. Though I don't know if it's canon on this au.

My one sentence summary for this one is "Joel, Pixlriffs, and the Consequences of Immortality Where it was Never Meant to Be"

I talked a little bit about my plans for Mezalea and how im incorporating that particular concept into it HERE

-

7.0 Points total!

(Also yes the first season of Empires is so much fun! I'm also a massive, lifelong fantasy nerd so there was no way I wasn't going to fall in love with it immediately, the Lord of the Rings was my First Fandom)

And thank you so much :=) I'm so glad you are enjoying the bits and pieces so far!

#imma be honest #i watched smajor and shubbles esmp s2 #up until the hermitcraft crossover #and i haven't kept up since then #i watch some streams here and there as i catch them #but mostly im just waiting for it to end so i can do what i did with s1 and just binge watch one pov at a time #im weird i know #rain rambles #marriage of state fic titles #Spotify #marriage of state au

[tearsoftime0086]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Stealing a neat post from @sweepseven and we'll see how far we get haha. I haven't posted all of my stuff to AO3 so I'll kinda be pulling from a few places

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 6! And half of them are from July till now lmao (aka the moment I learned about Steve Burnside)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

49,691

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Gosh if I kept consistent fandoms it would make my fandom experience so much more easier :') Started out with Gundam, though haven't really kept up post my move away from FFNet (really want to come back at some point tho). Code Geass and TKoE is my long-running baby. Currently swept up in a Resident Evil fever too (see previous question). I've also written some stuff for League of Legends, Persona 2, and Fire Emblem!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ravaged Blessings (Fire Emblem: Three Houses, T. Wrote this during the rising peak of FE3H's release. Started out with Blue Lions and whoa nelly I was not prepared for Dimitri's post-timeskip scene.)

Two Kinds of Eternity (Code Geass, M. The behemoth. I had this idea in my head for ages and once I joined AO3 in 2018, decided to finally give it a shot. It's been five years and we're only halfway there, but I'm glad folks have hopped on and off for the ride)

An Eternal Warpath For You And Me (Resident Evil, M. Most recent fic of mine that I'm thankful has gotten a lot of kind reception! Aka Chreon + me fitting Steve into the Resident Evil-verse as best I can haha)

Shuriman Nights (League of Legends, T. Bit of a kudos drop from this point forward, but I love all my works the same, so :) I will never be over Nasus and Renekton's lore.)

Once (That Was Enough) (Resident Evil, M. EVERYTIME I WATCH THE DARKSIDE CHRONICLES CUTSCENES I HAVE TO COME BACK AND RE-READ THIS ONE. The genesis of my sprawling RE AU)

With 6 fics, that leaves We'll Always Have Casablanca out of the standings! Turns out that fic was the first anyone used the Leon & Steve tag. Pure self-indulgence so I understand why it's the lowest haha

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to answer all of them! I have moments in life when I feel way too anxious about what to write back (like am I clogging up my own comments section? will they think it's weird if I write more than their initial comment?), but I work really hard to recognize the people who leave nice notes on my fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm a sucker for happy endings (everything else in the story is fair game tho) so I hardly ever end something too angsty... I guess Shuriman Nights for its implications?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Once (That Was Enough). Capcom, I reject your reality and substitute my own.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I had a few small cases, but it's not frequent at all. I try to mind my own business and let folks be ^^

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

As someone who's like 90% sure they're ace/sex-repulsed, I don't. It narrows my scope of reading fanfic too unfortunately - some of the best written works I've seen are rated E, but I have to kinda "hold my breath" while reading them :(

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I never posted it anywhere, but I had a sprawling DCMK/Gundam crossover I shared with a close friend of mine. Still re-read parts of it from time to time. (Silver Bullet Shinichi, anyone?)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge! I write so slowly that they probably wouldn't be able to steal it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope but it would be a blessing if anyone ever asked!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Again not posted, but I used to do a ton of co-writing with that same close friend mentioned above. Good times.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Ooh this one's a tough one. If I have to choose, it's Kamille Bidan/Fa Yuiry from Zeta Gundam. It's what really started my fanfic journey, and I'll never forget the pure elation I felt watching their beach ending in Gundam ZZ. Wonder how I'd write something for them in the present? It's been so long...

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

If I thought about my deepest fears it would be TKoE, but I refuse. I will finish that fic. For a more realistic answer, I have a lot of mini-scenes for my Claire/Steve RE AU that I want to string into a full fic at some point, but I already have so many things on my plate.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm. I like to think that in my writing peaks, I have a good sense of capturing character voices and dialogue. I'm also good at coming up with like, "angsty" one-liners, if that makes sense?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Gosh this one's much easier than the last one. My posting rate is abysmal for starters (sorry to all the TKoE readers). I feel like every other sentence I write is clunky and long. Like on re-reads I can usually shave a few adjectives and words off of every sentence. I get impatient about pacing when I'm actually writing, but my actual writing sessions are few and far between. Tough times man :(

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Different strokes for different folks, but I'm always afraid that a reader will get whiplash if I write in a language that I'm not comfortable with. Like sometimes I'll read fics where they reference Korean and it ruins my focus a bit when I read something that's not grammatically correct/realistic. Nothing to drop a fic over, but I'm not confident enough to write in another language myself.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I don't remember off the top of my head. The first one I posted online was for Zeta Gundam, but also I think I have a small A Separate Peace story from around that time? Lol if I go back to my childhood original works, those stories were essentially Guardians of Ga'Hoole and Bionicle fanfics too.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Once (That Was Enough) takes the cake right now. I remember looking on TVTropes for... Tragic Monster examples I believe?... and found a quick summary of Steve Burnside. Oh dear, that lad has me in his clutches and won't let me go. I had to write a story where he survives, and well... the rest is history. I even have a tag dedicated to the AU the fic spawned! Well, that was a ton of fun! If anyone reads this and wants to do it themselves, feel free to! Hoping to get more stuff out soon :)

#random musings #bits and baubles

[charmspoint]

Drabble prompt: if possible, a young Gojo asking Kenjaku about his father. I really love your Mother fic and I always wonder about extra “mundane” scenes in that au…

I'm really glad you're enjoying it! It was supposed to be a weird lil side project so actually seeing people digging into it and finding it interesting has been v fun for me <3 Tho it def lacks mundane scenes lmaoo, Kenny is the type of narrator that doesn't give a fuck about describing anything that doesn't pertain to his direct interest so a lot of Satoru's growing up is just sorta neglected in the narrative on purpose >:3 so this makes a v fun prompt to dig into

Drabbles 4 prompt 7! I hope you enjoy!

-

It was still amusing to them, how despite the grandeur of six eyes and all the legends and expectations spun around its user, the boy was still perfectly happy sitting at their kitchen table, working diligently on his coloring book.

What a harmless little thing he was becoming, an obedient pet in the palm of their hand. Skittish and shy around strangers, clutching to their dresses whenever someone so much as looked in his direction. Children were so easy, much easier to deal with than an adult six eyes user would have been. Malleable like clay underneath their fingers. They had no doubt he would execute his role perfectly when it came down to it.

But that was still some time off and for now they allowed for this peaceful life, boring days filled with the sounds of colors scratching against the paper and the clinking of dishes in the sink. Kenjaku never fancied themselves a domestic type. Family had always been more of a unit of measurement than anything else, but in the ever evolving game of sorcery, one had to stay adaptable no matter what.

And if this particular research dragged them into a quiet life, then so be it.

There was a creek behind their back as Six Eyes pushed himself from the table, padding on silent feet to their side. Children tended to be quite needy for attention and Six Eyes was no different. It was like every few minutes there was something new he wanted to show them. It was hard to convey to him that most of those things were horribly uninteresting. This time around he grabbed on to their sleeve and tugged, interrupting their chore as he tended to do, pointing at something in his coloring book.

“Mommy, I colored us.”

They spared the book an appeasing glance. It was a picture of a family, though Six Eyes had only colored the mother and the son in, probably having no idea what to do with the father and daughter.

“That’s very nice, sweetheart.” They patted his head and hoped that would be that, but he continued staring up at them, full force of six eyes burying underneath their skin. “Is there something else?”

“I just wanted to ask...” he mumbled out his words, eyes darting from them to the book. How annoying it was when he got hesitant.

“Then do ask, sweetheart, mommy doesn’t have all day.”

“Do I have a daddy?”

Ah.

There it was.

Really, they had expected that question eventually. It was somewhat offset by the type of population that inhabited the small village Kenjaku had chosen for their home, but it was going to come to the surface sooner or later. They didn’t really remember the man that had impregnated Gojo Yua, it had been a fair bit since they had gone rifling through her memories, as bland and unimportant as they were. But the actual man that existed didn’t matter at all. This was a question of origin not of paternity.

Might as well deal with it now, at four years of age it was basically a perfect time to trim that part of Six Eyes’ story.

“Of course you do, what a silly question that is. Really, sweetheart, use your head a little.”

He squirmed uncomfortably which was good. Might stop him from pestering them about needless things in the future.

“Am I going to meet him?”

“No.”

“W-why not?”

They took in a deep breath, laying down the pan they’ve been washing with a resolute thump. Six Eyes jumped slightly, wrapping his arms around himself and staring up at them. It was amusing, how easily startled he was.

“Why must you ask me such questions, darling,” they muttered, staring down at the murky liquid that filled their sink. “Isn’t this good enough, just the two of us?”

“I just wanted-“

“You just wanted, you just wanted, you always just want things, you never think of how it affects me, or what I want, don’t you?”

“I-“

“You are just like him, in that way, you know?”

Six Eyes’ shoulders jolted up and they barely suppressed a smirk.

“Always wanting things from me, demanding them even. You’re not a stupid child, are you Satoru? Do you think I would be here, so far away from everything and everyone, if I wanted to speak of what I’ve left behind?”

They turned to face him fully, watched him worry his hands against each other and his brain scrambled for the right answer. He was so full of tics and tells, it was way too easy.

“I thought-“

“You didn’t think at all. If you thought about it you wouldn’t have asked, now would you? But okay, that’s a fair question. Mommy understands. I don’t blame you for being curious.”

They knelt down, cupping his cheek in the palm of their hand, looking deep into those crystal blue eyes. It was surprising, what a quick crier he was, his eyes were already misted and they didn’t even do anything.

“I hate your daddy, do you understand that, sweetheart?” They kept their tone gentle, but they didn’t let him back out of their grasp. “Your daddy is one of the people who wanted to take you away from me. My little baby, my little treasure. He would have taken you away and made you an object, a weapon. He didn’t even ask how I felt about it, what I thought about it. His word was law and that was that, so I did the only thing I could have done. I ran away and took you with me. And I would do it again too, to keep you safe, to make sure you can grow up happy. I left my home and my family and everyone I knew, threw it all away, made myself so lonesome, just for you.”

They pulled him into a hug and he clung on to them gratefully, burying his face in their chest. He was such a tiny, shuddering thing. Soft enough for a stronger hug to leave visible patterns upon his skin.

“It hurts; you know? Hearing you ask about it. I left it all for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it, do you understand? I wouldn’t return there, oh no, but it does hurt. Asking about your daddy, jogging all these memories, really Satoru, it’s hard on me.”

“I’m sorry…” came the whispered reply and they shushed the boy, pulling him closer in, gently whispering in his ear.

“That’s okay, that’s okay, you didn’t know. Mommy would never hold it against you, even if it hurt her as much as this did. And now you know. Was it worth it? Please, do not ask me any more than that, you’ll break your mothers heart, making her relive all of those memories.”

He nodded softly, the notion barely noticeable from inside their embrace.

“I won’t, I’m sorry.”

“There we go, always such a good listener. Mommy loves you so much, you know?”

“I know. I love you too, mommy.”

“That’s my good boy.”

#drabble prompts #jujutsu kaisen #kenjaku #gojo satoru #jjk #lucy does a write #plagueofskeletons #answered #cw: manipulative parenting #this was the last prompt not a day ago but now i have two more to go!

[sipsteainanxiety]

< MERMAN BAKUGO 3 i’m so so in love with the way you write him!!!!!! you’re so right about katsuki being the type to do things on his own terms, even when it comes to forming relationships. also these are my favourite types of slow burn, i’m super impressed with the detail & the research that went into this!! the one part that sticks out in my mind is the part when katsuki doing his sketches in the journal ( which in and of itself is a mind numbindly adorable concept, big merman bakugou hunger over this little sketch book like a little kid is so cute, i loved that imagery ) but the part that made me take a second to just be like, woah, was the bit when you went out of the way to mention how the pressure of his pencil markings changed the more comfortable he got with using it. it’s a bit strange now that i’m writing it out, especially since everything else about this was SO good and heartwarming <33 but it made me take a moment to rly appreciate all the finer details, even something as small as that contributes to how it comes together & i just think it was a brilliant touch. you definitely have katsuki pinned down, everything from the way he speaks to his mannerisms just seems so natural for his character & i love this interpretation of him! the way you describe him too is just !!!!!! just big & powerful but ethereally pretty with a handsome grin, got my heart racing man <33 other little details like the genus and species of coral were really interesting! i looked up each one which was nice to have that added visual aspect which made it all the more immersive. merman bakugou is one of my favourite aus ever and you did just such a brilliant job, hands down one of my favourite bakugou fics now! can’t wait to read more of this of its a series because i cannot get enough of the way you write him my heart is in a FRENZY <33333

AWEEE THANK U FOR SENDING THIS IN <33 i’m glad you like it so much!! merman bkg my BELOVED i always want more fics for him but i’ve only seen like. 2 rly long ones out in the fanficverse. we need MORE!! the people are starving!!

admittedly it was lowkey rough thinking abt how he’d react to certain things. there were actions i wanted reader to take and ways i wanted bkg to react but i couldnt add them in bc it was just too early in their relationship yk? like. for instance, i wanted to add in a part where reader would towel off his hair for him so tht the water from it wouldnt drip onto the sketchbook but bkg would NEVER allow that and it seemed to early to let that happen. thats okay tho there will be other opportunities in the future✨✨

i am SUCH a sucker for small details so it makes me happy that you noticed them!! i wrote in that pencil bit after i did the doodle of the sketchbook at the end of the chapter so i was like ah yes, rough harsh lines and angles. it suits him anyways.

i did a lot of research for this fic in general LOL i wanted it to seem as legit as possible. admittedly some of the scuba diving details will probably not be all too accurate but the reefs and the experiment stuff should! i love the ocean and i did take a few classes that helped out with some of the more sciencey details!

i’d been writing bkg fic since 2018 so id hope that his characterization would be spot on LOL sometimes i go back to my older works and im like… ew i wrote that? but i definitely feel like i have a more solid grasp of him now LMAO merbaku with his pretty face and scarred arms 😌✨ i lov he

but yes thank you for sending this in!! im rly rly happy you enjoyed the first chapter so much!!! it only gets better from here!! 💞💞

#a nonny mouse #makes my heart go 🐬🐋🐬🐋🐬🐋 #sipping tea with shay

[fangirl-erdariel]

Quote time!

'Cake is eternal'

'Was it just the dreaming of my heart?'

'Dress me all in flowers white, so no mortal eye can see'

'Sing with me a tiny autumn song, with the melodies of the days gone by'

'Call my name from the heart'

'Forgotten phrases, tender and sweet'

'Clinging to affection, we somehow do learn to live'

'Running and reaching for the light'

'And I'll show you who I am, if you come where I go'

'In blinded night we are singing a glorious cry for freedom'

Okay let's see... :D This got unreasonably long so i'm putting it under a cut, sorry!

"Cake is eternal" - this is absolutely a crack fic. Maybe a bakery AU of some kind? I just can't decide what fandom or characters

"Was it just the dreaming of my heart?" - ok so for some reason what my brain went to was Beren and Lúthien fic, centering on Beren as he is dead, clinging onto the world, somewhere in Mandos, even though he's feeling the almost irresistible pull on his mortal soul to leave the world, because he can't leave yet because she asked him to wait and she promised to come and say goodbye right?? he can't leave until he sees her one last time, but at the same time he's dead and death does things to you so he's no longer really that certain of how much of what he remembers from life was true

"Dress me all in flowers white, so no mortal eye can see" - okay i know you've asked this before and fuck if i remember what I replied then. But right now I'm thinking immortal Merlin fic, with him through the years, through the changing tides of the mortal kingdoms and societies, slipping through it all almost unnoticed (and possibly going slightly mad with loneliness)

"Sing with me a tiny autumn song, with the melodies of the days gone by" - oohhh, this has a Tolkien vibe somehow. Maybe Aragorn and Arwen, long after LOTR, looking back on their lives?

"Call my name from the heart" - hmm... I have no idea why but I'm kinda thinking some kind of Garashir slowburn? idk anything else tho

"Forgotten phrases, tender and sweet" - again no idea where this came from, but maybe some kind of Glorestor fic? Like starting when Glorfindel's still newly come to Middle-Earth, and maybe he didn't have too much time to adjust to the whole "after thousands of years I'm alive again" thing, and he definitely hasn't had the time to process the fact that living comes with constant new feelings, new experiences, not just slowly sorting through and making peace with all the feelings and experiences from before you died, so he's still kind of reeling a bit and figuring things out again... and then, because Glorfindel was never one to do anything little by little or halfway, he goes and falls head over heels for Erestor and has to try and figure how love (and specifically communicating that love) works again

"Clinging to affection, we somehow learn to live" - so I don't really go for that very often, but somehow I'm thinking of Maedhros and Maglor with little Elrond and Elros? Maedhros and Maglor are all kind of worn down and burdened with like, everything, and Elrond and Elros are small children just torn from their home and family and friends, and it's all kind of a mess... but there's a bit of affection, a spark of something, some care for the twins, from Maglor, and maybe if they all hold onto it they can figure something out, maybe two kinslayers half-mad from their trauma and the Oath can live for a little rather than stumble forward after a terrible and seemingly unattainable goal, maybe two kids torn from everything they've ever known can learn to live, can grow up to make something of themselves, if they all just care for each other a bit and find a little affection for each other?

"Running and reaching for the light" - somehow (probably because i've already gotten myself into a tolkien mood and there's that whole metaphor about moths and candles in Athrabeth, lol), I'm thinking of an Andreth/Aegnor fic where Andreth doesn't submit so easily to the fact that Aegnor rejects her despite loving her, and maybe Aegnor isn't all that convinced about their love being impossible either, and Andreth goes after him, to stay at his side, reaching for his flame... and I don't know if that saves him, or if it ends in tragedy anyway (maybe she just dies at his side, when Dagor Bragollach comes. Or maybe she outlives him despite everything), but at least they have a while together, at least they get to love each other, whether or not it's enough to change their fates

"And I'll show you who I am, if you come where I'll go" - tbh no idea and my brain is out of idea making juice now, sorry ':D

"In blinded night we are singing a glorious cry for freedom" - I'm absolutely sure you've sent this to me before and I'm not sure what I replied then but right now what I'm vibing with is a Merlin AU where for whatever reason Merlin doesn't end up in Camelot (or at the very least doesn't end up as Gaius' apprentice, and doesn't end up really being involved with the court) and ends up sticking together with druids or just with other people who have magic instead, all keeping their heads low and fearing being exposed, but hoping for and working towards some kind of change nonetheless

Thanks for these, this was fun!

#answered ask #talvenhenki #ask game

[izzy-b-hands]

Buncha lil interconnected dethklok and ofmd crossover things that hit randomly bc the city woke me up at 5 AM sanding the streets lmao.

Modern AU for the Revenge crew but also they're still pirates sailing and robbing as tho it's 1717. They just like the aesthetic and prefer it that way, and are perfectly deadly all the same bc They Just Are akdjfk

Ten points if you guess which crew member hooks up the most in this

---

"We uhhhh. Need directions. Or something."

"Nathan, ask if they got any snacks!" Pickles hisses.

"Right yeah. Do you guys have snacks?"

"Do we," the long haired man in front of them hesitates. "The pirates attempting to rob you and steal your ship. Have snacks."

"Right, because we do, but it's not what any of us want to eat," Pickles pipes up again. "So what's that situation like for you?"

The man blinks. "Yes. We have snacks."

--

"They know we're robbing them, yes?" Stede asks. "I know piracy as we're doing it is a bit old-fashioned, but-"

"No, they get it," Ed interrupts. "I think."

The band and a small army of now dead guards were all that was aboard the large metal coal powered yacht covered in spikes.

Now, the band was sitting in their galley, eating their food, and discussing key changes with Frenchie.

"Technically, if they want to stay, we can still call them hostages," Pete says, moving by them with another bag of chips. "So, you guys play metal? We've never robbed a metal band before, believe it or not."

"Hostages might work," Ed nods. "Can anyone smell...what is that?"

"Oh, our ship was sinking before you guys found us," the drummer, Pickles, remarks. "We were actually building a float out of Klokateers when you boarded, so ya know. Really good timing, all that."

"Is your extremely polluting ship sinking right now then?"

"Where else ams it goings to go?" a snort from their lead guitarist, a Swede named Skwisgaar who kept giggling with The Swede exclusively in Swedish. "Dis guys. You ams on the waters with a sinkings ships, oh, dids it sink? Into the oceans? No ways! Douchebags."

"Don't kill them yet," Ed gently pats Stede's arm, reaching for a knife. "We can get a ransom for them first."

--

"I basically hold the band together," Murderface sighs. "It'sch...tiring. But you do it you know? For the schake of everyone."

Pete nods. "I get it. I sailed with Ed way before this, was a major player on that crew. Now it's the same here. Even got a boyfriend."

"Yeah, I saw that," Murderface mumbles. "Say. One vital component schort of man to another...how did you do that?"

"Get Lucius?" Pete smiles, then chuckles nervously. "I have no idea. I liked him; I talked to him; I whittled him a new finger after infection took his original one-"

"Whittling isch the answer," Murderface says sagely. "We schould network more with each other; this is good."

"Like keep talking?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Okay...wanna hear about how we took down an aircraft carrier?"

"Holy fuck, yesch I do."

--

"I don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Pirates," Izzy corrects. "Charles, look. I wasn't on deck at the time, or I would have stopped them. I'm aware our choice of career is unusual at best and that this overall isn't ideal, but-"

"I didn't want to talk to you again."

"I didn't want to talk to you either."

Ed blinks. "Wait, this is Charlie? This guy? This is who you were engaged to while I was with Jack?"

"Yes," Izzy sighs. "This is Charlie."

"It's Charles now," the video image showing Charles in all his professional besuited glory flickers. "I run the most successful band in the world, and do you know what that means?"

"What it meant back then," Izzy supplies. "That you never take time for yourself or anyone you're with-"

"As if you didn't do the same, away for months at sea!"

"We're doing this? You really want to do this now? Fine then, let's dredge up everything!"

"I don't think we're getting the ransom," Stede interjects. "Maybe we could work out something else? Izzy, please stop flipping him off. Izzy. I get it but-okay, Mr. Offdensen please don't do it back. Please-oh good god."

--

"You guys ever shoot each other out of these?" Pickles raps a knuckle on one of the cannons.

"No," Wee John replies. "But we should have! Frenchie, do you think-"

"All we need is someone willing to try," Frenchie interrupts excitedly. "And who might fit."

"I got the perfect guy," Pickles smiles. "Toki! Come down here, we need you for somethin' important!"

--

"Okay," Izzy sighs deeply. "We're all adults here so let's just go over it quickly. What did we learn?"

"That just because Toki fits in the cannon, doesn't mean we should fire him out of it," Pickles rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"Oh no," Izzy frowns. "No, I meant we know now that we can shoot people pretty fucking far in our cannons without them dying. That's an excellent new technique."

Frenchie's eyes light up. "He's not even hurt, aside from the water bruising him when he hit it."

"I would likes to does this again," Toki, covered in spent gunpowder, coughs. "But withs paddings this time."

"Experiment away," Izzy smiles. "We might not have to kill you guys after all."

--

"That's fucking sick," Nathan examines the knife. "And now you're gonna kill all the motherfuckers that are left?"

Jim nods. "Trying to, at least. In between everything else."

"Fuckin' metal. Got any other cool shit like this?"

"No one showed you the weapons room yet? It's a mess, but, come on. You gotta see the cannons too."

"I love it here."

--

"In exchange for your safe return," Charles says. "I've agreed not to press charges and to assure them immunity and legal assistance for any and all of their future crimes."

"Seems like a lot," Pickles frowns. "And we're playing a show on here that you're gonna broadcast because...why? You got someone on here you're gonna fuck so they let us go?"

"It's a mistake, but not one I'm making because of that," Charles mutters, seemingly meant for himself by the way he blushes. "Um. Anyway. I'll be flying out shortly with your gear. See you soon."

"Okay," Pickles says. "Who do we think he's fuckin'? I got my money on Izzy or Stede."

"That ams stereotypicals," Skwisgaar scoffs. "But it ams Izzy. He and I fucks in the jams room earlier, and he mentioned it."

"Wait, you fucked Izzy? When?"

"Like twentys minutes ago, keeps up."

"Huh. Okay, well then. Good for you, both of you!"

--

"Israel."

"Charles."

He's still hot. Of course he is.

"It would be," Izzy continues. "Improper of me to ask this so soon, in the cabin my captains usually use. Had the biggest sturdiest desk."

Charles nods and bends himself over it, casually opening his belt. "I'd like to test that for myself. If we're planning to use it while we negotiate any final terms."

Izzy locks the door to the quarters, and starts unlacing the front of his leather trousers. "We're on the same page then."

Charles whips around as Izzy approaches him and pulls him in for a kiss. His trousers slip to knees, but he doesn't care.

He tastes just as good as he remembered.

--

"So. One of your current partners is fucking our manager," Nathan coughs. "Um. That's a thing."

Ed nods. "I can hear it. I'm not bothered by it, by the way, I just...I don't know why, but I would never have pictured them together."

"After he fucked Skwisgaar," Nathan says. "I didn't think they were serious about them having..."

A loud and delirious moan of Charles' echoes.

"They're serious," Ed chuckles. "Very serious. And loud. Wait, Izzy too? Who hasn't your guitarist fucked on here then?"

"Probably everyone. Pickles is right behind him though. I haven't really been interested in everyone else aside from talking but uh...you and your other boyfriend...since Izzy is busy, would you maybe be interested-"

"I think he would be," Ed gently lays a hand on Nathan's. "Should we go find Stede and ask together? Maybe give Izzy and Charles a run for their money noisewise?"

Nathan nods.

--

The show is loud, enough to shake the ship like constant cannon fire.

But it's amazing.

"And you really can assure our immunity?" Izzy shouts over the music.

Charles nods. "You have no idea what I've covered up in the years since we dated. You could kill anyone you wanted, any of you on here, and I could make it go away without even thinking about it."

Izzy pulls him in for a kiss, and decides not to ask if it isn't also to have reason to occasionally visit.

He already knows it is; Stede drew a little heart on the day marked 'Iz/Ch/us!' on their calendar.

#text post #long post #i had more with more members of the crew but this is already long enough #that im already gonna skip tagging otherwise so it doesn't clog any tags #but if ppl do find and like these and want more just shoot me an ask or like this or something #and I can post up some of those too bc these were fun

[gukyi]

the art of the rom-com | jjk

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

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as you can pick your teammate. 

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

Shit. 

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

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

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

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

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

Right above is your response to his comment. 

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

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

Your fists tighten by your side. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

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

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

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

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

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

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

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

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

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

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

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

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

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

Jungkook: miss you already <3

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

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

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

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

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

In a way, you suppose it kind of is. 

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

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

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

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

Well, she’s got you there. 

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

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

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

To: [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

[lastoneout]

Got any HCs for this new pla au you’ve mentioned? (here’s an excuse to gush about it, I’m very intrigued 👀)

Oh boy do I ever >:3333

So like I mentioned on the other post this partially came about cuz I read some "Akari isn't fully human/has some sort of prophet/changeling/divine aspect energy" fics and so in the AU she gets properly isekai-ed and while is still mostly human, she's def like human+ or something cuz whatever Arceus did to send her back Mixed Things Up A Bit, but at the beginning it mostly manifests as her having some weird vibes sometimes, staring off into space, saying strange things occasionally, and being ridiculously good with/drawn to pokemon. (Doesn't start getting Freaky until they're in Hisui and the rift happens.)

So yeah she gets touched by the divine and loses her memory and all that, and then gets dumped on Laventon when he's like 24-25 and only just starting his own personal research in Hoenn, and since he can't find anyone who knows Akari(and starts to assume given how she's dressed weird and getting stares and fell out of the sky he's not going to) he's like well guess I'm keeping her and brings her along with him while he travels, which ofc leads to the "congrats, you're a dad now!" found family stuff.

I don't have much of a plot beyond that yet but boy do I have ideas so!!

He ends up buying Akari galarian-style clothes in Slateport(where he arrived and there are merchants from lots of different places) because she can't keep wearing her Weird Future Clothes and figures if she looks like she came from the same place he did they won't attract as much unwanted attention. Unfortunately the only clothes he can find don't fit her super well so for the first year or so with him she's dressed like a bit of a disaster.

Tho because I am a SAP I did want her to have a sweater that kinda matches his that they found because she got attached to him Real Quick and pointed it out when they were shopping. (It is also too big but she loves it and once she grows out of it she is Big Sad)

Akari loving pokemon is absolutely a double edged sword because sure Laventon also likes pokemon and is as happy to ramble about them for hours as she is to listen, but this is also the Past and she's like seven and small children don't mix super well with Dangerous Wild Animals. Ofc she always ends up okay but does give Laventon a severe heart condition.

And he actually ends up being a bit overprotective once they get to Hisui and Akari is old enough to join the survey corps. Which ofc she desperately wants to do more than anything else. Thankfully it doesn't take much for him to see he's being unreasonable and he's absolutely super proud when Akari blasts through the first trial like it's nothing, and super emotional when he sees how happy she is. And maybe he cries a little when she gets to try on her uniform for the first time. And he takes lots of pictures like a dad on their kid's first day of school. Bcs I said so.

Laventon is absolutely weak to Akari's puppy dog eyes(poochyena eyes??) tho. 90% accuracy, high critical hit chance, always super effective.

Akari ends up learning to speak Galarian because when she finds out that he speaks a different language she spends like a week demanding to know the names of everything until Laventon, as much as he thinks it's cute, just Can Not anymore and starts teaching her the alphabet and making little worksheets to distract her so he can get his own work done.

She starts calling him 'papa' pretty quickly and at first he doesn't correct her but still feels bad cuz he's very well aware of the fact that he's Not Her Real Dad, and it doesnt click until like a year after finding her something happens, like she gets really sick or scared idk yet, and she calls him that and he's like "Oh, wait no I'm actually dad now oh man okay" which makes him have a mini crisis before accepting that he's more than okay with it.

Akari still get blamed for the sky turning red thing and exiled, because despite meeting her way earlier in this au Kamado still is picking up on Akari's ~vibes~ and the things about her story that don't add up, but Laventon goes with her because ofc he does. (Also fun angsty bit if we add surveyshipping to the AU I think Cyllene and Laventon would agree that she stays to keep an eye on the village and Rei, while he goes with Akari, which could DEF make Akari feel mad guilty for splitting them up on top of all the Bad Time Feels she's already having.)

Akari does withdraw a lot as she tries to figure out who and what she is and what her place is, but in the end she gets to meet Arecus again and figures it all out(I'm kinda thinking she died in her previous life and got a little Weird when Arceus grabbed her, made her not dead, and dropped her out of the sky but idk for sure yet), at which point she goes home to Jubilife Village and Laventon and Cyllene and everyone because that's where she decides she belongs. (And she probably helps Ingo get home cuz she's not just gonna sit by and accept him being stuck.)

anyway that's what I've got so far and I have absolutely already written a few little scenes out because I am in fact obsessed with this AU!! I just love me some single dad of weird child shenanigans and the potential for feels is off the charts and am always down to talk about it uwu

#long post #dadventon au #I guess that's what Im calling it lmaooooo

[let-them-read-fics]

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot. 

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best. 

A bonafide, absolute idiot. 

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out. 

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning. 

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time. 

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight. 

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word. 

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession. 

There's no way you think this one looks bad. 

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck. 

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features. 

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too." 

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter. 

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all." 

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier. 

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday. 

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool. 

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend. 

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door. 

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh. 

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week. 

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…" 

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees. 

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling." 

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests. 

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways. 

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies. 

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair. 

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks. 

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again. 

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this. 

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you. 

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here." 

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before. 

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile. 

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side. 

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes. 

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?" 

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down. 

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing. 

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away. 

But alas, she doesn't. 

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight. 

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes. 

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see." 

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality. 

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner. 

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying." 

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you. 

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation. 

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people. 

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks. 

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party." 

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?" 

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one." 

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?" 

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me." 

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip. 

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!" 

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks. 

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter. 

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me." 

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer. 

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets. 

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else. 

You can get your own revenge. 

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them. 

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you. 

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion. 

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away. 

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes. 

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later. 

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen. 

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers. 

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her. 

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall. 

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge. 

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun. 

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are. 

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover. 

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path. 

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up. 

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you. 

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you. 

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be. 

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers. 

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!" 

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting. 

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now. 

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath. 

"What's wrong?" 

There's that voice again. 

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it. 

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me." 

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like." 

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches. 

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas. 

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads. 

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little. 

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled. 

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters. 

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs. 

When did that happen? 

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you. 

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you. 

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment. 

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy. 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her. 

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against. 

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time. 

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now. 

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly. 

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to. 

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out. 

"I'm Lisa." 

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease. 

"Likewise, beautiful." 

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced. 

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips. 

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing. 

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again." 

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire. 

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes. 

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise. 

"That sounds wonderful." 

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever. 

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close. 

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed. 

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off. 

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up. 

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors. 

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof. 

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you. 

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over. 

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself. 

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away. 

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window. 

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now. 

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building. 

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations. 

She does a twirl, looking around. 

"It's gorgeous." 

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up. 

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out. 

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms. 

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her. 

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months." 

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself. 

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking. 

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains. 

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters. 

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh. 

"Maybe, but it's the truth." 

"Sure, Lisa." 

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms. 

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace. 

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song. 

Turning Page, you recognize it as.  

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites. 

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too." 

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud… 

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it. 

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you. 

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is. 

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush" 

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly. 

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you. 

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second. 

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss. 

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping. 

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up. 

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck. 

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late. 

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey. 

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too. 

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her. 

"Please…" 

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more. 

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go. 

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there. 

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before. 

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there. 

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask. 

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.

#lisa #lisa manoban x reader #lalisa #lalisa manoban #lalisa manoban x fem reader #blackpink #blackpink imagines #kpop imagines #Kpop girl group #vampire au #blackpink au #blackpink vampire #vampire lisa #fluff #soulmate au #soulmate #blackpink oneshots #blackpink scenarios #blackpink fluff #blackpink fanfic #blackpink x reader #jennie kim #kim jisoo #park chaeyoung #meet cute #let-them-read-fics #lisa manoban x fem reader

[navegandoaciegas]

Crybaby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader (College AU)

Warnings: smut, ass fingering, orgasm denial, humiliation, lots of talks about panties.

Summary: You catch Bucky trying to steal your panties on laundry day.

A/N: this is partly @buckycuddlebuddy​ ‘s fault tbh. Enjoy some desperate, horny Bucky. Minors DNI.

The timer on the dryer unit you’d occupied went off, signaling that your weekly load of laundry was dry and ready. Bucky cast a nervous glance around the eerily empty room, fingers twitching in the front pocket of his hoodie.

He knew it was wrong, but his laundry was done too (just a coincidence, really, not like he’d wake up at 3 am on a Monday because he knew you did your washing around that time), and you weren’t there yet. You usually retrieved your load in the morning anyways.

Just a peek, he reasoned. Out of curiosity. You wouldn’t even realize they were missing, and if you did you’d chalk it up to the washing machine eating your clothes.

You’d show up to class on Tuesday and sit next to him while he’d be wearing your pretty lace panties and you’d be none the wiser.

Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

He dug in your laundry, sifting through mascara stained washcloths and an endless amount of oversized t-shirts, until he found what he’d been looking for.

Small, so tiny in fact that he wondered how your lips could fit in them. He groaned -the idea of your pussy hanging out of the material made his cock twitch, and brought the panties to his face, rubbing his nose all over the lace. He’d fantasized of burying his face between your legs all semester long, and this seemed close enough, the closest he could get to you anyways.

They seemed stretchy, and he hoped he could manage to stuff himself inside them.

“Didn’t peg you for a panty sniffer, Barnes.”

The world stilled around him, the ring in his ears so loud that he wondered if you could hear it too.

He was so engrossed in his creeping, that he hadn’t heard the door open and click shut, nor your steps as you walked behind him, or the slight groan that the washing machine behind him emitted when you settled on it, swinging your legs.

Slowly, he turned around, your lace panties still tightly clutched to his chest.

You almost chuckled at the sight of his bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Almost.

“That- it’s not- not how it looks like- I-”

“What, you were gonna fold my laundry for me? How considerate,” you sneered, but the look on your face was far from disgust.

Derision, sure, but not disgust. The mischievous interest in your eyes sent chills down his spine, not necessarily the good kind.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, anticipating whatever consequence his actions would have.

“You do this often?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, naked legs still swinging over the washing machine.

Bucky couldn’t find the words, and honestly the gall, to speak, so he just shook his head vehemently, shuffling on his feet.

“Hm, you like sniffing ‘em?”

He remained unmoving, too humiliated to do anything.

“Oh, I got it,” you beamed, pointing a finger at him and squinting your eyes, “You like touching yourself with pretty panties, hm? Like using them to fuck your dick, and cum all over ‘em?”

He wanted to answer, tell you to fuck off and sprint away to hide in his dorm for the rest of his life, but honestly he deserved this and so much worse. He almost considered dropping out of college entirely, but that glint in your eyes kept him anchored to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on his white sneakers, “I-, I promise, I never done it before, I don’t know why-, look I won’t do it again, I swear,” he pleaded, tears pooling in his crystal eyes and threatening to stream down his face.

You cooed, honest to God coeed, a mocking pout on your lips.

You should have left, and reported him, but those pretty tears of his, the tremble in his voice, the stuttered pleas, only served to spur you on, a familiar warmth building up in your core.

“I bet if word got out of this, no one would want to hang around the resident creep anymore. Good luck getting girls then. Although, well, I don’t think you get too many under normal circumstances, do you?” you snorted, “That would be embarrassing, hm? Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He found himself shaking his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat to avoid giving you any more reason to mock him.

“It’s your lucky day then, because I have no intention to tell anyone,” you announced, stepping down to lean against the machine, arms crossed over your stomach.

“You- you don’t?” he wondered.

The notion should have elated him, but he felt himself growing more uneasy and confused with the smirk on your face.

“Won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Cross my heart,” you laughed, making a show of placing a hand on your chest.

He eyed you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Where’s the fun in that, Barnes? I wouldn’t enjoy bullying you if I’m not the only one doing it,” you chirped, “That doesn’t mean that my forgiveness should come for free, tho.”

His breath hitched, and you followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his throat.

You could feel the control in your grasp, panties getting wetter with each one of his tears.

“I’ll do anything,” he swore, and you almost wished he’d fall on his knees and beg.

“Anything you say, huh?” you paused, “Strip,” you commanded, leaning back against the washing machine.

Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up in confusion, then disbelief, finally embarrassment. “Wh- what? But, but what if someone sees, I-”

“Then you better hurry.”

“But I-”

“You fuckin’ heard me the first time.”

He was startled into action, hands hastily pulling at his hoodie and jeans until he was standing in nothing but socks and underwear.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself again.”

He gulped visibly, and hesitated before hooking his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs.

He blushed harder, ducking his head.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, and the mouthwatering sight of it had you reconsidering Bucky Barnes and all your life choices during this semester.

He was glistening in pre cum, painfully hard and veiny, and definitely thick enough that fitting it inside your cunt would be hard work on both parts. You imagined taking him in your mouth, how you would definitely choke around his girth, and your jaw would be sore for days.

Not today, though. Bad boys did not get that kind of privilege.

You bit your lips, and Bucky fought the impulse to squirm under your intense gaze.

“Something wrong?” he rasped out, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole in case you found him too small, too crooked, too hairy.

You snorted, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Yeah, babe, the fact that I haven’t seen you naked before. You been hiding all this,” you eyed his crotch suggestively, “from me all this time?”

“T- thanks,” he stuttered, offering you a small smile, eyes trained on the ground. He tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered when you called him an endearing term, reminding himself that this was all a game to you, a game that he was more than willing to play if it ended up with his cock buried deep inside you.

You sighed then, pondering your thoughts. He was not your usual type, but he was cute in a nerdy way, shy and quiet, and he was packing more than any other man you’d had before.

Plus, this was way too entertaining for you to pass up.

“Wear ‘em.”

Bucky’s head snapped up at the command, but this time he did not hesitate to follow your instructions, a bit too eager as he slid the panties up his thighs.

The shutter of your phone’s camera brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw you take pictures of him. He trusted you wouldn’t spread them around, but the thrill of danger had him leak more pre cum, wetting a patch on the lace.

“So that’s your deal? You like wearing panties? Didn’t even try to act like you didn’t want to,” you snickered, “What a whore.”

The situation couldn’t get more humiliating, and he couldn’t get more desperate for you.

“Be a good boy, Bucky. Fold the laundry for me, since that’s clearly what you meant to do,” you laughed scornfully, nodding to the basket at your feet.

He walked to you slowly, bending over to pick it up, and yelped when you slapped his ass harshly, the sound bouncing off the walls and shooting straight to his aching cock.

“Cute. Now go, you got something to do and I don’t have all night.”

He sighed, and got to work, unloading each item from the dryer, and folding it neatly.

You eyed the lines of his back, the round globes of his ass, the string of your thong dipping between his cheeks. You almost lost yourself imagining how pretty he would look all scratched and marked before you furrowed your brows, observing the way he folded on of your nicer shirts that you wore on interviews and internships.

“Can’t even fold laundry, look at you,” you tsked, shaking your head, “Try that again, I don’t want to spend more than necessary ironing it.”

He obeyed, without any protest, smoothing the creases he’d created, and continuing with your load, until the dryer was empty and you were satisfied.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praised, beckoning him over.

He got closer, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked so pretty like that, all teary and obedient.

You wanted to make him yours and ruin him for everybody else.

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert, you know that? A creep and a pervert.”

You saw the way his cock twitched behind your lace at the words, and almost doubled over in laughter.

The night couldn’t get any better.

“Fuck, you really are a pervert. This what you get off to? You imagine me calling you names, degrading you like the bitch you are? You want to be humiliated, don’t you?”

A desperate, pathetic whine escaped his throat, and he felt his knees growing weak with need. He was naked in a public space where everyone could see him, being belittled and humiliated by the girl he’d been pining over, and he was hard as a rock, getting off every word that spilled out of your mouth.

“Well,” you purred, fisting the hair at the back of his neck and tugging harshly, “I think we can arrange that.”

“Yes, yes, please, I want it,” he whimpered, chest heaving, “I want you, I’m your slut, I-, you can do whatever you want to me.”

You almost moaned then, intoxicated by his burning desire.

“Good boy,” you hummed, releasing his hair to stroke his cheekbone, smiling at the way he leaned his head against your palm, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Remember you can tell me to stop or slow down whenever you want, and I will. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you added more serious, observing his face for any trace of anything but enthusiasm.

When you found none, and he nodded feverishly, you let your hand fall from his cheek to his shoulder, tracing the outlines of his lean muscle.

“Can- can you kiss me, please?” he asked, and he begged so prettily that you could do nothing but humor him, crashing your lips against his.

It was messy, rough. He was sloppy, and from the way he moved against you, you guessed he didn’t have too much experience.

Better, you reasoned. You’d teach him all he needed to know to please you, and you only.

You bit on his bottom lip, and Bucky yelped in surprise, parting his lips.

He tasted like mint on your tongue, and you sighed in content, letting your hands travel down his sides, barely grazing his skin, scratching the hair on his belly.

He shuddered under your touch, goosebumps erupting in your wake.

When you reached his lower stomach, you felt him tense, his breathing getting harder, his tongue more insistent.

He was drooling and crying, you realized, as he snapped his hips against your leg, humping you like a dog.

You broke away from the kiss, catching your breath.

“Look at you, you gettin’ real worked up and I barely even touched you. What are you, a fuckin’ virgin?” you chuckled, playing with the little bow on the front of your panties.

You’d expected him to laugh, or deny, but he just stood there awkwardly, avoiding your gaze,

“I’m not,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Then why are you acting like one?” you prodded, but didn’t wait for him to answer, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

His hesitant hands groped your breasts, finally gaining the confidence to do more than linger awkwardly on your hips. He twirled your stiff nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them, movements getting more frenzied the closer he got to his release.

He crouched awkwardly to be at your chest level while still pressing his hips onto you, and tugged your loose tank top down, moaning at the sight of your tits.

“Go on baby, suck on my tits.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement to assault your nipples, latching his mouth onto one of them, and suckling. You wondered if he’d ever even touched a pair of boobs before, but his ministrations were working either way, making your walls clamp down on nothing.

You finally grasped him in your hand, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him lazily, spurred on by his little whimpers.

His whole body quivered when you ran your thumb over his slit, and you marvelled at his sensitivity.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?” you moaned in his ear, “I bet you do, I bet you could cum already just from this. Just a handjob, like the pathetic little boy you are, hm?”

He released your tits with a wet pop, and rose to full height again, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yes, yes, please,” he sobbed, “please, princess, more.”

You complied, doubling your efforts. He inhaled sharply when you added your other hand and began twisting both your wrists in opposite directions.

“You want your princess to suck your dick, baby? Want me to get on my knees and take you in my mouth?”

He nodded against you, grinding his hard cock against your hand, desperate to chase his release.

“Or maybe you want your princess’ pretty pussy? You want to fill me with your fat cock and stuff me full of your filthy cum, don’t you?”

He began blabbering, breathing harder, sloppily snapping his hips. He had a look of pure bliss on his face, his eyes shut tightly, mouth hung open and a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

You could feel him grow and throb in your hand, and just before he was about to reach his high, you stopped your hands.

His eyes shot open and he opened and closed his mouth to protest, but you gave him no time, fisting his hair and slamming him against the washer, bending him over the cold surface.

“What, you thought I’d catch you stealing my panties and I’d let that go?” you tutted, bending over him, pressing your front to his back, whispering in his ear “Bad boys need to be punished, don’t you agree?”

A choking sound escaped his parted lips, and you giggled against his skin, licking a strip behind his neck.

You let your hands wander down the expanse of his back, settling on the waistband of your panties. You indulged yourself again, slapping his ass because you liked how it jiggled and how Bucky whined.

“You have a nice ass, you know,” you mused, slouching back to get a good vision of it, “You ever had anyone stick anything up there?”

“W-what?” he sputtered, crooning his head to look at you, “N-no, never.”

“Cute.”

He squirmed in embarrassment when you spread his cheeks, groaning when he felt your spit drip down on him. You massaged a finger around his rim, your hand coated in your spit and his pre cum.

“Relax, I’ll make you feel really good, promise.”

You gradually felt his muscles relax under your touch as you soothingly ran a hand down his back and kept whispering calming, sweet nothings in his ear.

Then, you dipped a finger past the rim.

“See, not that bad, huh?” you smiled, working your finger inside him, caressing his walls.

You nipped the skin of his back, peppering his muscles with fluttering kisses, grazing your teeth over his column.

You dipped another in, and Bucky hissed, wiggling his legs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you shushed him, “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

He preened under your praise, and you began scissoring your fingers inside his ass, working him open and looking for the spot you knew would make him beg for more.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock.

You loved how pliant Bucky was being, obedient and submissive in your grasp. You noticed the tears that hadn’t stopped streaming down his face, and huffed a laugh.

“A pervert, a slut, and a fuckin’ crybaby, aren’t you?” you mumbled, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, holding onto the washing machine for dear life, tongue lolling out of his mouth, drool dripping down his chin, making it known that you’d found what you’d been looking for.

“Yes, fuck, please princess, gimme more,” he begged, overwhelmed with a pleasure like he’d never experienced before.

He felt like a fire had been lit in his lower belly, and it was spreading to every limb, encompassing him whole.

You grasped his cock in one of your hands while your fingers kept pummeling into his ass, feeling the rim clench around you and his cock pulsate.

You thought you could cum from his beautiful sounds alone, and you kept going until you were sure he was on the verge of a mind shattering orgasm.

Then, you stopped again, and this time Bucky sobbed, blabbering and wailing, begging you.

“Please princess, I’ll do anything, just please let me cum, please, please,” he continued, shamelessly bucking his hips against nothing.

You released his cock and pulled your fingers out of his ass, cleaning the fluids against his panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ pathetic, begging like that,” you mocked him, retrieving your phone from the pocket of your shorts.

You snapped a couple of photos of him bent over the washing machine, pent up and debauched. His balls hung from the lace of your panties, and you made sure to zero on his tear stained face.

“So pretty, my pretty crybaby,” you cooed, helping him stand up again.

He fell on his knees, clutching the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please, you can’t leave me like this, I-, please,” he blabbered.

You committed the image to memory, knowing you’d see it again soon.

You could see it in his eyes how hooked he was to you.

“Baby, bad boys don’t get to cum, do they? You can’t go around stealing people’s laundry,” you tutted, lightly slapping his cheek, “You deserve some punishment, don’t you agree?”

He hesitantly nodded, slumping down on his shins. You grasped his chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“You got to bed now, no touching, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll know if you disobeyed, and trust me, you don’t want to know what’s gonna happen if you did.”

You smiled, and took a few steps back to retrieve your basket, leaving him to catch his breath on the floor.

“See you tomorrow at 4 pm, you know where my dorm is,” you chirped despite your own neglected arousal, sauntering to the door, “Get dressed before someone comes in, you wouldn’t want to see how much of a pervert you are, right?”

He shook his head, agreeing with you despite the sobs that silently shook through his body.

“Good boy,” you purred, hand twisting the knob. You paused, and threw him a look over yourself, “Oh, and thank you for the laundry.”

-

I hope you liked this! Please leave some feedback if you can! ❤️

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you

[httpdabi]

My pet

Genre: romance, smut, normal AU with no quirks, university!reader x professor! Dabi,

Summary: Maybe skipping his class wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, the detention could wait for some other time, not like you weren’t getting sick of it anyway.

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+, praise kink, bit of fingering in public place, semi public sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

Taking a deep breath you tried to calm yourself down a little. From all the papers, you had to lose the one from Professors Aizawa’s classes, which was pretty important. And the fact that he had a pretty big dislike of you didn’t help either, since you were sure that he will nag about it a whole moth or give you little to no time to write it again.

Rolling your eyes, you collected all the papers on the floor, putting them in one box, accepted the fact that your paper is nowhere to be found. With a big sigh you stood up and poured the hot coffee in your cup to go, before you took your bag from the floor and left your apartment.

You weren’t in the mood for Uni today, but at least you had only few classes, which meant you won’t spend much time there.

You checked your phone one last time, before you locked the door and hurried downstairs to catch your bus. Using the app, you always checked when will the bus arrive, giving yourself 5 minutes to catch it. This time you went out a bit earlier, since Aizawa’s class was the first one. After all you didn’t have the paper done, you couldn’t afford yourself more shit with being late.

,,Fuck’’ you hissed when you saw the bus already on the bus stop. You were about to run, but once you noticed all the people squished in it, you couldn’t force yourself to do it. After all, you were never sporty, every time you had to run to catch the bus, he would simply speed off and leave you half dead on the bus stop. Yeah, you had a condition of a dead horse.

,,I’ll be a bit late’’

you texted your best friend Mina as you sat on the small waiting bench. The next bus will arrive in 8 Minutes, which was enough time for you to smoke one. Upset about everything, you smoked your cigarette almost aggressively, puffing on it like it was your last one.

You don’t run. There is always a possibility that you will die if you run. So, it’s better if you come a bit late, then not at all. You thought to yourself.

Some people don’t come to the classes at all and no one gives a shit, yet you are worried about some stupid paper and being late.

When the bus arrived, you turned the cigarette off and got inside, finding yourself an empty seat as you hopped into it. Momo texted you that Aizawa is not even there and that maybe there’s a chance you’ll arrive before him.

Of course there’s no chance you’ll be able to do it, since the bus driver took his time driving. You were sure they had something against you. When you are trying to catch a bus, they suddenly turn into Formula 1 drivers as they speed off, but when you are inside of the bus, they follow every possible rule and drive so slow.

The moment you arrived, you walked pretty fast surprisingly, every second step you took, you tried to force yourself to run. You tried to push yourself between the students that had their best time in the fucking hallway of the Uni. Most of them giving you a weird looks as you started to run for the first time, upstairs.

Opening the door of the huge class, you stood there confused. The man standing there wasn’t Aizawa, so you looked around to check if the classroom was the correct one. It was. Scanning the room, you saw Momo in the last row giggling at you. Giving the man one last look, you made your way to your best friend.

,, You didn’t check your messages, did you?’’ She whispered quietly, as you hopped between her and Mina. Shaking your head you took out your notebook and placed it on the table, while Momo explained to you what’s going on.

So, Aizawa had some problems which forced him to be absent for the next 6 months, making his assistant Touya Todoroki take over his classes.

The three of you chit chatted quietly, as your new so called Professor was calling out your names to mark the list. Like in high school, you thought to your self as you put your hand up when your last name was called. Professor Aizawa never did that, one look was enough for him to notice who is absent and who’s not.

Everyone knew Touya Todoroki. He was around your age, and that made students a little bit more comfortable around him. You heard that he finished Uni one or two years ago, being one of the top students. Being that smart, and Aizawa’s one of favorites, they gave him the chance to work there as his assistant.

In your opinion, joking around with the students wasn’t really smart of him, since there’s always a possibility that they won’t take him seriously later on. But hey, maybe you were wrong.

Once the introduction was done, and he said enough about himself and all the plans Aizawa had for the next 6 months, he said that he’ll call your names out in alphabetical order, for you to give him your paper and sign the list he prepared for it.

You felt a bit uneasy when you realized that till now, all of them had their work finished and the possibility that you’re the only one that didn’t have it made your stomach twist.

When your name was called out, you thought about some lies you could tell him, none of them good enough.

,,I’ve lost it’’ you breathed out as you clapped your hands and slowly nodded your head. He gave you the ‘’are you serious’’ look as you stood there embarrassed a bit.

,,Is that even possible ?’’ he asked as he raised his brow at you, eying you out while you played with your fingers nervously.

,, Obviously, it is’’ you said, crossing your arms on your chest. What kind of question is that even? People come here and lie about their test being eaten by their pets, yet your honest and sad excuse was suspicious to him.

,, When is the next date ?’’ you added, hoping he’ll give you enough time to write it again.

,,Tomorrow’’ he said, not even looking at you.

,, WHAT ?’’ a scream escaped your lips, loud enough for everyone in the class to hear and look at you. Is this dude insane ? Even tho Aizawa didn’t like you, he would still give you maybe a week to finish it.

,,Take it or leave it’’ he said, with a small smile formed on his lips, like he didn’t just tell you to do something impossible. Rolling your eyes shamelessly, you turned around and made your way toward your seat, where Momo and Mina waited excitedly to ask you what happened and so on.

The moment your last class finished, you had to cancel all of your plans, making your way home immediately after it. That day, you couldn’t even afford yourself to make a lunch or dinner, since every second and minute counted. The only food for you was coffee and cigarettes that day.

The good thing was, that you remembered lots of things you already wrote, but sadly, the paper wasn’t really small, forcing you to write and write without taking even a small break.

You hoped that you’ll finish it till 11PM, since your first class started early in the morning, at 7 AM. Sadly your big hope sank like Titanic when you checked what time it was when you almost finished your paper.

It was fucking 3:37 AM.

That disgusting motherfucker, you thoguht to yourself, as you imagined how great it would feel if you had the possibility to break his fucking tattooed neck.

The moment you heard the alarm, you wished you were dead. If someone placed a gun on your forehead at that moment, you would probably beg him to shoot you. Taking more time then usual, you found yourself being late again. This time you didn’t give a single shit about it. You didn’t give a shit about looking like half dead bird, with your hair tied up in way too messy bun and dark circles under your eyes.

Stomping into the classroom, you didn’t bother to look or greet anyone, forcing yourself to sit in the first row, since more students remembered that they actually go to Uni and suddenly decided that today is the best day to show up. Mina and Momo didn’t sit close to each other or to you either, since the class was unusually much fuller.

Grabbing your phone out of your pocked, once it started to vibrate, you saw that Mina and Momo were writing shit in your little group chat.

,, Are we having this piece of shit all day?’’

you texted, ignoring the topic they were writing about.

,, Yeah, we’ll have one and half hour break in between, and then him again. I don’t mind it tho. Dude’s handsome as fuck’’

Mina replied, making you roll your eyes.

,, Handsome as fuck my ass. Bro looks like random junkie from the main train station’’

you tapped furiously sending the message, scrolling down your Instagram feed, not even bothering to look at him, when he called your name out when he checked the absence list.

,,No phone in my class’’ he said loud enough, when he noticed it. Ignoring his statement, you just continued to use your phone. It’s not his problem if you are using your phone, it’s not his fucking problem if you decide not to follow his class and fail it at the end. Sure, if you were interrupting the class, then it would make some sense. But since you didn’t interrupt him or anyone, it shouldn’t bother him at all.

In one moment, you had your phone in your hands, the next one it was snatched from your hands. Looking up, you saw him standing in front of the desk you sat in, with your phone in his hands, scanning the room if anyone else was using it too. Both Mina and Momo hid their phones fast, when they realized what just happened.

He stood there quietly as he did something on your phone. The only thing you could see was his thumb scrolling something on your phone up. Whatever it was, he had no fucking right to do it and it made your blood boil.

,, There is something called privacy, you sick fuck’’ you hissed loudly. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact that you had less then one day to finish your paper, but you couldn’t stop yourself from insulting him. The moment you spat those words, you felt his eyes on yours. You noticed a small smirk formed on his lips as he turned your phone off.

,, You just got yourself in detention Miss.’’ He said, as he placed his phone on his desk ignoring your complains.

At that point you weren’t sure if he got all the dislike on you from Aizawa, or if you had that kind of personality that made people easily dislike you. Sure, maybe you overacted and embarrassed yourself in front of the whole class, but in your defense, he didn’t have the right to do it. None of the students were children. All of you had the right to decide on your own if you will pay attention to the class or not.

When the first class was done, Mina and Momo came to you immediately, eyes wide in shock as they talked about what just happened. The two of them waited for you beside the door, as you took your finished paper and made your way toward his desk.

He pushed your phone from the end of the desk toward your direction, as he told your friends that there’s no need to wait for you. Confused, they left immediately, not wanting to pull themselves into troubler or give you more of it.

,, Sit down’’ he said, as you stood there confused as well, gripping tightly onto your paper. Being a bit lost, you didn’t follow him immediately, standing there totally lost.

,, Sit the fuck down’’ he repeated, this time a little louder. You sat there, eyes wide open in shock. Sure, he started off as someone that looked like all of your classes would be fun with him, but with todays actions, and the small amount of time he gave you, definitely changed the view of him to the rest of the students. To you even more, since his sudden behavior wasn’t really pleasing.

,, Paper’’ he simply said, as he tapped with his hand on his desk. You gave it to him immediately, not sure if you are allowed to leave or not, also unsure if you can take your phone or not anymore.

,,Good, now go clean the desks or whatever’’ he said as he took your paper, scanning it a little bit.

,, You gotta be kidding me’’ you laughed. This dude has some serious issues, you thought to yourself. ,, We ain’t in fucking high school’’ you hissed. You were about to grab your phone, but his hand stopped you, as he grabbed your wrist with his left hand.

Without saying another word, he just shook his head towards the direction where the small bucket was. Usually prepared for the Cleaning lady that does her job once the class is over.

You wanted to make even more drama, and curse him out instead of apologizing for interrupting his class, but at that moment you didn’t have the balls for it. First of all, because you were pretty sure he was in contact with Prof. Aizawa all the time, and second, it was already clear enough that he dislikes you more then Aizawa does.

You took a deep breath, as you prepared the water. Hoping he will let you go soon, since everyone else is already on the break and if you were being honest, you were getting pretty hungry.

The whole time, he just ignored you as he was correcting your paper. He already corrected the paper the rest of the class turned in, so he wanted you to have your note too. Aizawa told him about you, never paying attention to the class and appearing just to avoid the shit you could get for missing the classes. He heard enough about all of you, and he wanted to make sure none of you will misunderstand him just because of his young age. Starting of with you, and giving one good example to everyone else. Sure, it wasn’t very nice of him to give you less then one day to finish your paper, but only you were the one without it, and he didn’t want to wait too long for it and make you lose the little focus you had on the rest of the class. He was pretty sure you would mostly focus on the paper you had to write, ignoring the other stuff he prepared.

You took your time cleaning the desks, humming some song that was in your head last few days. When you finished your task, you made your way toward his desk. Sitting down to the desk in front of his own, you wanted to ask him if you may leave or take your phone, but somehow it felt too weird to do it.

,, Spit it out’’ he said, his eyes focused on the paper you gave him. Of course he noticed the little uncomfortable glances you gave him, and the way you played with your fingers. Something about it gave him the feeling of power, in some weird twisted way.

,, Can I go ?’’ you asked fast.

,,No’’ he replied as fast as you asked, like he was prepared for you to ask him that, making you whine loudly. You were pretty sure if it was Prof. Aizawa instead of him, you wouldn’t even dare to react that way.

,, Text your friends to bring you something to eat. You ain’t having the break today’’ he said, still correcting the paper. With a huge sigh you took your phone and turned it on. Messages popping up one after other. Mina and Momo cursing him out, sharing their location with you and simply being worried a bit. You told them about the break thing and asked them to bring you some snack, as you complained how he’s actually torturing you.

His coughing took your attention, making you place your phone on the table as you watched him stretch his arms out, as he placed your paper in front of you. Your eyes widened when you saw a huge D and 52% written on your paper. Some students would just be happy they passed, but not you. The worst grade you ever got in last two years was C, and yet you almost failed this fucking paper, only few percent’s saving your ass.

,, The beginning was alright. You missed lots of points. In the middle, some stuff you wrote didn’t make sense at all.’’ He sighed as he rubbed his right eye a bit before he continued telling you what you fucked up.

,, The end was terrible, from all the facts you wrote, to your grammar. It was painful to read ’’ He added, as he played with the pen in his hands.

,, Not sure what you expected from me when you gave me less then 24 hours to finish this shit.’’ You spat, anger taking over you again. At this point you found yourself missing Aizawa, and first time you felt unsure if you will be able to pass this class.

,,Is this detention done now? Can I leave now ?’’ you asked, wanting this shit finally to be over, ignoring his words from before that you won’t have a break today. At your surprise he just laughed you out, pissing you off even more if it was possible at all.

,, This ain’t your detention sweetie’’ he laughed, as he took his phone out of his pocket. Telling you how you will have to stay every day after classes for 1 to 2 hours to help him prepare his stuff for next classes. For the next four weeks.

You weren’t sure if he was joking around or not. You knew that some students had to do it, for example, Mina had to do it for a whole week, since she pissed off your Professor Shigaraki, always being late to his classes last year.

The next day, you ignored what he told you, as you made your way toward the exit when the class was done, only to be stopped as he called your last name out. That was enough for you to understand that he wasn’t joking around, and that the next four weeks you will have to give up 1 to 2 hours of your precious time.

At the beginning all you had to do was print the papers he prepared for the classes, and grab some stuff he needed while he was writing something down, or correcting some shit. You found yourself regretting the decision to go to that fucking uni. Usually professors don’t give a damn if a student pays attention to the class, if he passes or fail. They are here to teach, not discipline and if you feel like failing, that’s your issue. Well, not in this case. You felt like they enjoyed torturing y’all just for their own satisfaction.

Later on he would command you in the middle of the class to grab something out the office, since you already spent few hours in it, knowing where his stuff is. You also got yourself a new nickname in class, which was ‘’Todoroki’s pet’’.

,, Chill out, you only have 3 more weeks’’ Mina said as she took a bite of her sandwich, saying how she knows how you feel.

,, Bitch, no one called you Shigaraki’s pet. This is embarrassing’’ you whined, taking a sip of your coffee. The two of you decided to ditch the rest of the classes, since it was his one anyway. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to anyone’s shit today, since she had one sleepless night, and you weren’t in mood to stay 2 extra hours.

Both of you spent some time in the café, gossiping about some people form your class and making plans for tonight. Since it was Friday, both of you wanted to enjoy your time a bit, instead of spending the night home being lazy as fuck. Mina told you that Keigo invited the three of you to his little house party that he made every now and then. Every time his parents would go somewhere because of work, he would throw a party that made him so famous among other students.

He knew you, Mina and Momo from the high school and he always got along with all three of you. Sometimes even tagging along with the three of you to grab a coffee, nagging about his affairs and so on.

Mina didn’t go home, since you invited her to come over to your place. Both of you getting a good ass nap before you got ready for the party. She wore some of your fancy clothes and you wore a simple white shirt, and your pastel purple strap dress over it, that hugged your curves perfectly. The two of you did your make up before you wore your black Martens boots and made your way to the party.

Momo was already waiting at the party for you, drinking her beer with Keigo. She placed her drink on the counter when she saw the two of you get in. There were already some people you knew, but you knew that in the matter of time the house will be full as fuck.

,, You two sick fucks, why did you leave me all alone today’’ she laughed out as she took one sip of her beer.

,, No one’s in the mood to talk about that fucktard and his annoying ass classes here.’’ You said loudly, as you made a drink for yourself, mixing Malibu with some cherry juice as Keigo asked the three of you what happened.

,, Professor fucking Todoroki is torturing the shit out of me.’’ You said as you placed a cigarette between your lips. ,, I never thought I’ll say this, but I really miss Aizawa’’ you said in one breath making your friends laugh at your sudden confession.

,, Ah, I heard about your new nickname tho’’ Keigo said with a huge grin on his face, making you roll your eyes. ,, What is it again?’’ he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You were about to tell him to shut the fuck up and drop this topic already, but a arm placed around your shoulders threw you out of the tact.

,, They call her My pet’’ a familiar voice said, making you almost choke on your drink. Momo’s eyes were looking at you in shock, and Mina tried to make herself unnoticed, since she skipped his classes with you today.

,, Bro, I heard that you are giving her some hard time. What did you do to my girl?’’ Keigo laughed loudly, as he greeted his ‘’friend’’. You sat there frozen, totally forgetting that you have a cigarette in your hand, that was now half way done. You weren’t sure how much he heard.

,, Nothing she didn’t deserve.’’ Your prof. answered, laughing together with Keigo. You forget that he was around your age, and that it shouldn’t be such a big deal to see him at party’s like this. After all, everyone enjoyed his company. You, Mina and Momo exchanged one look that told more then any word could. All of you grabbing your drink, before leaving the two of them in the kitchen.

,,What the fuck is he doing here ?’’ you spat out, not giving a shit if he will hear you or not.

,, I have no idea. This was so embarrassing’’ Mina said, laughing loudly as she drowned her drink down, grabbing another one immediately.

,, Why ?’’ Momo asked confused, making you ask yourself how much she drank already.

,,Girl, the fuck are you even asking ?’’ Mina asked her, still giggling around. ,, Usually people get smarter in Uni, what happened with you? ‘’ she added wrapping her arm around Momo’s shoulders.

,, Downgrade’’ you said, making your friends laugh, as Momo hit your arm lightly.

Keigo was playing the music, his phone connected to the large loudspeakers. At the beginning you hated his taste of music, but later on you simply got used to it and at some point you started liking the songs he would play.

The three of you were fooling around, chitchatting with some people you knew from Uni. Once you heard that Anxiety from Blackbear started playing, you made your way toward the kitchen where Keigo was. The moment he saw you he started making some silly dance moves, as you immediately started to hop around and copy his moves. The first time he showed you this song, you literally hated it so much, only later on to learn every word as it became the song of you two.

He started singing as you prepared another drink for yourself, waving your left arm in the air like Keigo did, following the beat of the song. At that point, you didn’t give a fuck about the presence of your Prof, since it looked like he didn’t really want to bother you either.

,, Having fun?’’ Keigo asked, as he placed his glass in front of your lips, forcing you to drink every drop of his drink.

,, Disgusting’’ you hissed, making a face. He laughed at your silly face and reaction as he pat your head. Taking a sip of your sweet drink, trying to cover up the Whisky he just gave you.

,, Touya, your detention ain’t shit. She still doesn’t have any manners’’ Keigo joked, as he shook his head a little.

,, I’m working on it’’ He answered, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

,, Oh shut the fuck up, both of you’’ you blurted, trying not to give them much reaction, since you were pretty sure they were just provoking you at this point. The two of them only laughed at your reaction, finding it cute.

Hopping of the long chair, you pulled your dress down, and made your way to find your friends. The house was full at this point. Greeting every third person, you tried to find either Mina or Momo, only to give up at the end.

Not wanting to go back in the kitchen, you made your way upstairs where the guest room was. Keigo and Todoroki noticed you going upstairs as Keigo tired to call your name out, only to end up being ignored since you didn’t hear shit.

You hopped onto the bed, your feet still on the floor, since you were too lazy to take off your boots. You placed the small ashtray on the bed, and lit your cigarette as you watched the people in the small hallway dance around and have fun.

Taking your phone out of the small pocket of your dress, you sent a message to the group chat, asking your friends where they are and telling them that you are in the guest room. Dropping your phone to the side, you enjoyed your cigarette, and the muffed sounds of the music. Looking at the ceiling, you waited for your friends to reply or come finally, since you wanted to drink and have some more fun.

The moment you heard the door close, your body twitched up.

,, What do you want now ? ‘’ you hissed when you saw Todoroki making his way to sit next to you. Instead of answering you, he just sat beside you, taking the small box of cigarettes and lighting one with your lighter.

You did the same thing, trying to cover the fact that you indeed felt a little bit uncomfortable. You laid down again, ignoring his presence as you puffed on your cigarette. You could feel his stare on you, as you tried to pull your dress down a little, scared it showed more then is should.

He laid down next to you, placing the ashtray to the side. In that moment you wished you were drunk, since the whole situation was freaking you out a little.

,, Chill out doll, we ain’t at Uni.’’ He said, placing his hands under his head, answering your question only now.

He looked a bit different then usual. Wearing simple black shirt with jeans, and Nike airforce. It looked good, but it kinda felt weird since the only outfit you saw him in was the formal one, in the uni.

You tried to move to the side a little, since he was a bit too close. Placing the ashtray on the nightstand, you took it as excuse to move a bit form him. Sure, he was handsome as fuck, sure you wouldn’t mind him that close, laying down beside you, if he wasn’t your fucking professor for the next six fucking months.

He noticed you wiggling to the side. How could he not notice that, as your dress got a bit up without you even realizing it, giving him view of more skin. He’s not stupid, he knew he made you uncomfortable, but he liked it. He liked the way when some of your friends called you by your new nickname. He loved the fact that he marked you his, without trying at all.

The moment you stood up, realizing that your dress is showing more then you intended to, grabbing the edges of it and pulling it down while whispering small apologies, his dick twitched inside of his pants. He placed one more cigarette between his lips, as he grabbed your wrist, forcing you to sit on his lap and not giving a single fuck if you could feel his erection.

,, What’s wrong doll?’’ he asked once you gasped in surprise. He loved how you didn’t dare to complain or even say anything. But was there even something to say? Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t find yourself to form a normal sentence anymore.

,, You heard what Keigo said. ‘’ he whispered, as he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette. ,, That my detention ain’t shit’’ he added, his finger on your jaw now, making you look at him.

,,What should I do’’ he wondered out loud, turned on only by the confused look on your face. You weren’t sure if he already noticed, but all he did at that moment turned you on. His grip around your jaw got stronger, forcing you to open your mouth lightly, as his lips got closer to yours only to exhale the smoke in your mouth.

,, You know, I have to punish my pet for being absent today’’ he said, his face only inches away from your own. ,, Sure, I thought you were sick at first. But look at you, healthy as fuck’’ he said, his other hand squeezing your ass tightly as he pulled you closer to his body. The position you were in was embarrassing for you, and you were pretty sure if someone walked in, you would be labeled as Todoroki’s pet forever.

He placed you onto the bed, slowly standing up to turn off his cigarette. You weren’t even sure what was happening anymore. You just sat there on the bed, as he locked the door before he made his way back to you. Standing in front of you, looking down on you, he couldn’t hide the smirk that appeared on his face.

Pushing you back lightly, your upper body fell onto the mattress giving him a perfect view of you, before he hovered over your body. He wanted to fuck your brains out, he wanted to hear you scream his name all over again as he fucked you into the mattress, but he had to risk it all with a question. Since you were giving him mixed signals, he had to be sure you wanted this as much as he did.

,, You sure about this ?’’ he breathed out, hoping you won’t turn into a fucking brat again and storm out of the room, or make any other unnecessary scene.

,,Yes’’ you managed to nod your head. Sure, the risk for you was huge, but what could even happen anymore ? You were already labeled as his pet, because of the stupid detention.

,, Good. Fucking. Girl’’ he said pointing every word out, as he placed soft kisses all over your neck, leaving sloppy purple marks shamelessly. Your breathing got a bit heavier hearing these three words coming out of his mouth.

He didn’t have time for foreplay, first of all, because he wanted to be inside of you, second, because the risk of people noticing was too big. Sure, he was around your age, but at the end he would probably lose his job.

,, Someone’s calling you’’ he said, still abusing your neck. Ignoring the phone and his words, you just enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your neck, wanting more.

,,Pick it up doll’’ commending, he pulled your panties to the side, as he touched your clit, groaning loudly when he felt how wet you already are. The thought of fucking you while you were talking to your friends got in his mind, and he couldn’t ignore it at all.

,, Yes?’’ you asked, sounding whiny more then you should, while he played with your pussy.

,, Bitch, the door is locked’’ you heard Mina on the other line, eyes wide in shock. You tried to pull yourself up, but his hand stopped you as he pushed you back into the mattress.

,, I’m.. I’m not.. ahh shit ‘’ You almost moaned when the sudden feeling of pleasure and pain took over you, as he entered you without a warning. Throwing your head back, you tried to talk, you tried to think of something, anything, to tell to your friend.

Touya closed his eyes, enjoying how your walls felt around his dick. Your pussy felt like it was made just for him. And it felt even better once he heard you fight the moan, while you tried to talk to your friend.

,, Keep being good for me’’ he groaned quietly, as his hips started to move at rapidly speed.

,,Are you with someone?’’ Mina screamed, as you closed your eyes, feeling every inch of his dick moving in and out of your core. All you wanted to do was throw the fucking phone away, and enjoy what he was giving you.

,, Y-yeah, friend’’ you said, trying to hold the moans, as he fucked you hard. Mina hang up after she told you that they will wait for you in the kitchen with Keigo. The moment the call ended, you threw your phone on the bed, placing your hands on his shoulders, finding some comfort in it. You were sure that people could hear the bed slamming onto the walls, maybe even your moans that he muffed with his hand.

,, You feel so good, doll’’ he groaned, every move he made was getting stronger and faster, turning you into a whiny mess under him. You placed your lips on his neck, sucking and biting on it as you tried to keep your moans low. You felt a bit proud of the marks you left on his neck. If you were marked his, then that was the last thing you could do to mark him too. Even if it was a bit.

,, Touya, please’’ you cried when he slowed down. Snuggling your face into his neck, you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down from the pleasure he was giving you. The slow moves were too painful for you, they made you feel every inch of his dick moving inside.

He moaned loudly when he heard his name slip out of your mouth. He wanted to hear more of it, he wanted to hear you beg for him while you say his name all over again.

,, You look so good when you want it’’ he said, tugging your hair back into the mattress, giving himself more access of your neck that was already marked by him, but of course that wasn’t enough.

,, Be my good girl and beg for it’’ he said, not moving at all. He wanted to destroy you, but at that moment he simply had to hear you beg for him.

,,Please Touya, I’ll be good. Please’’ you begged again, and that was more then enough for him.

,, That’s my good girl’’ he whispered, kissing your lips as he started to move his hips again. He was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, enjoying the way you were whimpering under him as you wrapped your legs around him, trying to get him closer to you.

,,So close’’ you mumbled somehow, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt his fingers rub against your clit. Only few rubs were enough for you to catch your high, biting onto his shoulder as you came all over his dick.

,, Such a good girl’’ Touya said as his speed increased, shortly after it, he comes deep inside you, groaning into your neck, as your fingers found their way to his hair. You closed your eyes, feeling his seemen filling your pussy up. He continued to fuck you as he was riding out his orgasm, slowly fucking his cum back into your core.

The two of you took some time to catch your breaths. His dick still buried deep inside you. The moment he pulled it out, you whined loudly at the feeling of emptiness. Placing one more kiss on your lips, Touya pulled your panties down, cleaning the cum that was leaking out of you with them.

,, You gotta be kidding me’’ you gasped when you realized what he did, only getting a smirk as a response.

Once he was sure that you were clean now, he pushed your panties deep inside of his pocket, giving himself a little present that would remind him of you, before he commanded you to unlock your phone, so he could save his number in it. Immediately calling his own number.

,, Don’t ever think of skipping my class again for the next six months” he hissed, as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you into kiss. All you could do was nod in agreement, promising that you’ll attend his classes.

He gave you one more kiss, before he left. Telling you to wait a bit, before you follow him, to make it less suspicious. Laying down on bad, all fucked out, you smoked one cigarette as you sent a message to Mina and Momo, telling them that you’ll be there in few minutes, and asking them to make you a drink.

Once the cigarette was done, you found yourself going downstairs, noticing that Touya was already with Keigo, talking about something. The moment you stepped into the kitchen, Mina and Momo started laughing loudly.

,,Oh, I see what’s going on’’ Mina gasped figuring out what just happened. She wasn’t dumb. Maybe others didn’t realized, but your overly marked neck, and the few hickeys around his neck made your friends understand what happened. Not like Keigo didn’t already know, he was the first one to support his friend, making him follow you into the guest room.

The next days, you found yourself waiting excitedly for your detention. Enjoying the time you were spending with him. Enjoying the risky sex the two of you had in the class room, in his office or in the toilet of the University.

Touya didn’t test your limits anymore, he knew that you were ready to do anything for him, he knew that he had you under his spell. But as much as he had you, you had him. He found himself spoiling the shit out of you, driving you home, coming to your apartment almost every evening and buying you little presents you never asked for.

You loved how he couldn’t keep his hands off you, not even in front of the class, ready to risk it all for you. Ordering you to work on some of his papers, while everyone else was chit-chatting or simply playing on their phones when the lesion was done. He wanted to let them all go, so he could fuck you there on the desk, but since it was too early, he just told them to do whatsoever, as you sat beside him, focused on your work.

The small gasp that came out of your mouth, once you felt his hand on your tight, squeezing it tightly, turned him on even more. You don’t wear skirt when you are having classes everyday, he had to grab that chance he had served in front of him.

,, Not here’’ you whispered, trying to look like nothing’s happening at all.

,,Yes here’’ he answered quietly, as he acted it out like he was explaining something to you, slipping one finger into your core.

The way he pumped his finger in and out of you, acting like he ain’t doing shit was driving you crazy. Also the fact that anyone that payed a little bit more attention to you, could probably realize what was going on, didn’t help either. The adrenaline was rushing in your blood, as you squeezed your tights together, trying to tell him that he’s hitting the right spot.

That day he finger fucked you in front of everyone, making sure no one noticed. Even tho no one gave two shits about the two of you, every person in their own worlds, you felt like all eyes were on you. You felt like everyone knew what was going on, as your head hang low, hair covering your face enough for you to squeeze your eyes shut as you came all over his fingers.

Once you found yourself breathing normally, you took your phone, opening the message that Mina sent you.

,, Girl, you can’t be serious’’

The two of you made eye contact, laughing loudly. Well, someone in fact noticed, thankfully no one dangerous.

#smut #dabi fanfic #dabi headcanons #dabi smut #dabi todoroki #dabi x oc #romance #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #toya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #touya x reader #yandere dabi #yandere touya #hawks #mha fanfiction #mha smut #bnha smut #touya smut

[ghostdrew22]

hi ok sooooo i have asked numerous writers for this request because i thrive on angst and fluff 👁👄👁 so here goes: a love triangle between draco, harry, and a ravenclaw reader. the reader’s been known to be head over heels in love with draco and giving him origami hearts everyday for a year or two, which he only throws in his trash bin. he usually just ignores her and finds her gestures annoying and laughable. one day, he goes too far with his rebuttals. the reader, heartbroken and realizing she had no chance at all, stopped pursuing him altogether. for the next few weeks, he found himself weirded out that he hadn’t received any origami hearts. while emptying his trashbin, he discovers that when you unfold the hearts, there were little notes of encouragement and sweet letters. just as he was about to confront her, he notices the reader folding something on her table during class and thinking it was finally another origami heart for him. however, it was a butterfly, and she handed it to harry instead. Jajdjeioa PLS MAKE IT ANGSTY AND FLUFFY IT’S UP TO U ON HOW IT WILL END BUT WOULD BE CUTE IF HARRY MADE THE PAPER BUTTERFLY FLAP ITS WINGS THO

Ok sorry for the cliche and long request, take your time and stay safe. I enjoy your writing sm 🥺

Butterflies and Paper Hearts || D.M, H.P

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader , a bit of Harry Potter x reader but not really Warnings: ANGST, swearing, Summary: Draco doesn’t like you and tries to let you down multiple times, when it finally does work he feels regret wash over him.

WORDS : 3864

First of all, I’m so sorry for taking so long to get to this. I read the request when it first came in and I loved it but I’ve been struggling to conceptualize it, and then I fell into a bit of a sad spiral because of all the other stuff that’s been going on in my life, which is why I took me so long to complete it. Second of all, I had to amend the idea a bit to make it work for me, e.g I wrote this in an AU where Voldemort doesn’t exist because I hate mr. no-nose, and I didn’t make the hearts go on for years. Third of all, thank you so much for this request! It’s a lovely concept and I really enjoyed writing it <3

~~~

Butterflies.

Flying. Soaring. Alive.

The first time that Draco had ever noticed you was in your fourth year. You were sat at the Ravenclaw table and immersed in a discussion with Padma Patil, one that had you laughing so hard that you were throwing your head back and wiping tears from your eyes. The sight had knocked the wind out of his lungs, like someone had just punched him in the stomach, and he felt the weirdest sensation in his gut.

It was butterflies erupting.

~~~

The first time that you noticed Draco was in your fifth year. Ravenclaws and Slytherins were in Charms together, as usual, and you’d accidentally sat next to him instead of Padma.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what happened this morn-“ You stop speaking the second you notice that the person beside you is, in fact, not your best friend but rather a scowling Slytherin. “You’re not Padma.” You frown.

“No shit.” He rolls his eyes, “What gave it away? The green robes or the blond hair?”

“The snarky attitude.” You instantly reply and he looks taken aback for a second, “Who are you anyway?”

If you’d thought he looked shocked before, you were wrong. “Excuse me?”

“Who are you? What was so confusing about that sentence?” You raise your eyebrows, “Clearly not a Ravenclaw.”

He scoffs at your remark but answers anyway, “I’m Draco? Draco Malfoy?” He asks, a pretentious tone lacing his voice. “We’ve shared this lesson together since you got here last year?”

“Stalker much?” You ask with a smile and he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, nice to meet you Draco, I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” He replies simply as he takes the hand that you’d outstretched. “Some of us pay attention.”

“Mhmm.”

“So what happened this morning?”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“You were about to tell me about what happened this morning.”

“Oh.” You respond in embarrassment and watch as his smirk grows.

“What? Am I not worthy of your great story?”

“It’s not that, I just don’t think it’ll interest you.”

“Try me.”

“Right, what’s all this then?” Padma asks as she stops in front of the desk with a confused expression.

You giggle at her obvious confusion, “I accidentally sat here instead of by our normal spot. Do you know this miserable boy?”

“Better than I’d like to admit.” She responds sourly before turning a harsh gaze toward Draco, “Daddy’s boy.”

“Wench.” He responds and she rolls her eyes.

“Are you coming to sit with me?” Padma asks as she turns back to you and you shake your head.

“Maybe tomorrow, I’d like to sit here and annoy him today.”

“I cannot possibly stand in the way of that, you’re doing the whole grade a great service.” Padma replies with a laugh as she goes to sit a few desks away from you.

~~~

Day 1 - 1 Heart

Hearts.

Fragile things.

It’s the next Monday when you have Charms again, and you decide to sit by Draco’s desk in hopes of him coming to sit beside you.

“What on earth are you doing?” Draco asks as he peers over your shoulder before sitting in the chair beside you.

“Origami.” You respond with a smile and he raises an eyebrow toward you. “That thing where you fold pieces of paper into shapes?” You ask and he nods in understanding.

He takes his seat with a sigh, “Sounds boring.”

“Everything sounds boring to you.” You roll your eyes before finishing up the origami heart.

“True.”

You give it a once over and smile in satisfaction before turning to Draco and handing it out him. “Here.”

Hearts. Absurdly fragile things, Draco thinks as he feels his own heart begin to race. Here you are, nonchalantly handing him a piece of paper, and he feels like his entire world is collapsing in on itself at the gesture. Y/N, giving me a heart.

He rolls his eyes and takes the object from you with a scowl, “Why are you giving this to me?”

You shrug, “You’re not completely intolerable, you’ve earned it.”

He smirks, “Careful, people might start to think that you like me.”

You smile, “Maybe I do.”

Your smile reminds him of butterflies- bright, fluttering, inviting, warm, beautiful.

He rolls his eyes and makes a big show of tossing the origami heart into a nearby bin, and you fight to hide the hurt hidden behind your eyes. But what you don’t know is that at the end of the Charms lesson, once everyone else has left, Draco goes into that very same bin and pulls out the heart.

Day 20 - 20 Hearts

“Are you still doing this?” He asks in annoyance as you hand him another origami heart, the same way you have, every morning, for the last twenty days.

“Yup. I’ve got no reason to stop.” You shrug with a small smile.

“How about the fact that I think they’re stupid and I don’t like them?”

“You’re under the misconception that I care about your feelings.”

He chuckles and brings his face down to yours till you’re inches apart. “I think you care a lot more about my feelings than you’d like to admit.”

You swallow and look away from him, trying to avoid the warm feeling that’s creeping up your neck and settling into your skin. “You wish blondie.”

“Mhmm.” He replies absent-mindedly as he turns into the classroom, drops the heart into the nearest bin, and sits in his seat.

You try to look unbothered as you go to sit beside him, ignoring the disappointment that’s churning your insides.

Day 35 - 35 Hearts

You watch as Draco inspects the origami heart from the Slytherin table, hoping that he might open it this time.

“He’s going to break your heart, Y/N.” Padma whispers from her seat beside you in the Great Hall.

You shake your head and let your eyes drift away from the blond at the Slytherin table. “He wouldn’t do that, he’s a lot better than you think he is.”

“Y/N, I’ve known him a lot longer than you have and I know that this isn’t going to end well.”

“And why not?” You ask defensively.

Because you’re a muggle-born, Padma wants to say, but she knows that it isn’t her place to crush your dreams so harshly. She shakes her head instead and smiles sympathetically, “Nevermind, I’m sorry for overstepping.”

You don’t notice, too busy talking to Padma, that Draco tucks the little piece of paper into his robe with a small smile.

Day 50 - 50 Hearts

You don’t exactly know when you caught feelings for Draco, it’s like all the small moments just bunched up together, but you know that it wasn’t your intention. The hearts, the sitting together in charms, it had all just started as friendly gestures in an attempt to get the scowling boy to befriend you, but somewhere along the line things just got too messy.

And now, you’re utterly infatuated with him.

You take a deep breath as you pull out the small box from your bag containing Draco’s Christmas present. The train comes to a half at platform 9 and 3/4, and you quickly grab your belongings before rushing out of the train in order to catch the blond before he goes home for the holidays.

You catch him by the door and you smile at him. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Another paper heart?” He raises his eyebrows with a smirk and you shake your head.

“No, it’s something else actually.” You hand the box to him, wrapped in a mix of dark green and navy blue paper, and he accepts it with a skeptical glance.

“What is it?”

“A Christmas present.” You laugh and he nods sheepishly in acknowledgement.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t get you anything…”

“I didn’t want anything.” You smile again, “That’s not why I got you a gift.”

You watch as he nods again and looks out the window. “Then why did you get me the gift?”

“Cause we’re friends.” You shrug and he swallows.

If he were any other person then the erupting butterflies in his stomach would be an obvious sign to pull you closer and hug you till both your arms hurt. If you weren’t a muggle-born witch, and his parents weren’t watching him intently from outside the train, then this would be the moment that he seized to let your friendship blossom into more.

“We’re not friends.” He spits out coldly, and you’re taken aback by the sudden harsh tone.

“Okay…” You reply quietly, “Acquaintances?”

“For fuck sake…” He mumbles with a sigh, “Y/N, I don’t like you, at all. You’re annoying, you’re pushy, and worst of all, you’re a mudblood.”

Harsh words, words that taste of venomous denial, are running out of his mouth before he can stop them. The look of astonishment and sadness on your face has regret dancing on his tastebuds like the taste of tar, and he struggles to push that feeling down.

“You don’t mean that…” 

“I meant every word, and I can repeat it if that empty skull of yours didn’t catch it.”

You shake your head and look down at the ground, trying to blink away tears, and he nods as he turns to finally leave the train.

“Draco.” You choke out and he whips his head back angrily.

“What?”

“I forgot to give you this today.” You whisper as you hand him his origami heart and push your way past him toward the platform.

You feel sick, you feel sad, you feel disappointed. There’s a twisting and churning that’s going on in your stomach but it’s not like normal, it’s the opposite of what you’ve felt every time before.

It’s butterflies dying.

He watches you walk away as a lump forms in his throat.

Day 65 - 0 Hearts

Draco walks into charms half-expecting you to be sitting somewhere else, and half-hoping that you’re sitting in your usual seat beside him. He didn’t open the Christmas present, too much guilt weighing him down, and he hopes that you don’t give him any more paper hearts.

He feels an odd combination of anguish and comfort when he sees that you haven’t moved, and goes to sit beside you in silence. You turn to him and smile but say nothing to him, not then and not for the rest of the lesson. When you get up to leave he half-expects you to drop an origami heart on his books, and disappointment consumes when you don’t.

Day 75 - 0 Hearts

“Morning.” He mumbles as he finds a spot beside you, as usual.

“Morning.” You respond.

That’s all the conversation that you two have now. A part of you misses the way the two of you had been before, easy-going, sarcastic, in-sync, but an even bigger part of you understands why that had to be over. He could never allow himself to love someone like you without resentful undertones of disgust and shame, and you could never settle for someone who doesn’t love you regardless of your blood purity.

“Y/N…” Someone whines from ahead and you look up from your desk to find Harry stood in front of you.

You laugh at his childish behaviour, “Yes Harry?”

“Please help me with this assignment?”

“No.” You respond bluntly, just to mess with him, and he pouts at you.

“Please?” You shake your head, “Please?” You shake your head again and he pouts at you hopelessly, “Pleaseeee?” He begs once more and drags out his plea.

You laugh once again and nod, “Okay fine.”

“Thank you so much!” He exclaims excitedly and leans over the desk to hug you. You shake your head and giggle in his arms, and Draco has to look away to ignore the looming feeling of jealousy consuming him.

Day 103 - 1 Heart

“So, I know that we’re not friends or anything…” You start as you turn to Draco, “But Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and I can’t resist the urge to give you one more.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion but feels realisation wash over him as you hand him an origami heart, one that’s bigger than all the rest you’ve given him in the past. He nods and takes it from you, trying to pretend as though his heart isn’t swelling at the gesture. “Thank you.” He responds curtly before the two of you revert back to silence.

It’s only when he’s alone in his dorm room that night that he actually looks at the origami heart. It’s red, and you’ve written his name across it in cursive. He runs his fingers along it and allows himself to unfurl it, feeling shocked to find words written inside it.

I know you never read these, so I’m probably wasting my time, but I wanted to say that I miss you.

Ridiculous right? I even feel stupid writing it. But it’s the truth, I do. I miss your smile, and your laugh. I miss the way you would scribble nonsense in my book to distract me from the lesson, and I miss the way you’d get so frustrated when I did the same. I miss the way you’d make fun of me for being a nerd, and try not to look proud when you outdid me in tests.

I miss your jokes too, even though they weren’t really funny, and the way you’d always forget your textbook so we were forced to share and we had an excuse to talk. I miss you a bunch, even though I know that you don’t miss me nearly as much.

Happy Valentine’s Day pretty boy,

I wish you could’ve loved me the way that I love you.

He quickly jumps off his bed and walks toward his trunk. He pulls out the Christmas gift that he never opened and another small box that he’d used to store all of your origami hearts, and begins to go through them all.

Note 1 - You’re weird but I like you. Very defensive, I hope that I can knock down those barriers. Note 2 - Your hair looked really nice today, made you look like a famous movie star who pays people to do it for him. Do you secretly have a hairdresser in your room? Note 3 - Your eyes are a strange colour, a cross between blue and grey, it reminds me of the sky before a really pretty rainstorm.

He opens every heart, from the first to the last, processing every last compliment that you’d ever written. With every word he reads, he feels a mixture of love and guilt wash over him simultaneously. Love for you- because you’re kind, and funny, and beautiful, and way too good for him- and guilt- for treating you so horribly because he was scared, when all he had wanted to do was kiss you, and hold your hand.

9 - I’m oddly very proud of you for beating me in the latest Charms assignment, you might actually be the bigger nerd between us both. 20 - I know you hate that I call you pretty boy but that’s what you are, you’re unnecessarily pretty! 26 - You’re very funny when you’re not trying to be. Your jokes are horrendous, but your impersonations and quips can be quite amusing. 35 - I’m starting to think that you don’t read these. No, I’m sure that you’re not reading these. Doesn’t matter though, there’s so many things that I love about you and I think I’ll explode if I don’t put them down somewhere. 47 - I’ve fallen very hard for you, it might be your dumb laugh or the way you tickle me whenever you walk into class, but I didn’t know that you could feel this much for a person. Damn you pretty boy. 50 - Padma thinks you’re no good for me, I agree, but I don’t care. I love you too much to give you up.

The last of the collection is the Christmas gift that you gave him. He’d refrained from opening it out of shame, feeling unworthy of a gift from you after being so cold to you that day on the train. He unwraps it and finds another paper heart, with a silver engraved ring above it. The words, ‘pretty boy’  are inscribed into the ring and he smiles at the sight, a few tears sliding down his face.

Pretty boys like you deserve a little more than paper hearts, I hope you like it.

He slips the ring on before getting off his bed, walking to his desk, and pulling out a piece of paper.

Day 104 - 1 Heart.

It’s Valentine’s Day and his palms are sweaty, for the first time in his life Draco has sweaty palms because of a girl.

You’re in your usual seat and you’re folding another piece of paper. His heart soars at the sight of you so focused, that goofy smile you always have whenever something demands a lot of your attention, and your hands working delicately against the edges of the paper. He stops in front of you.

He clears his throat and you look up at him, startled by the sudden interruption. “Oh, Draco, morning.” You respond with a small smile, obviously still apprehensive about him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Y/N.” He smiles back and slides an origami heart onto the desk, beside the butterfly that you seem to have been folding.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion as you pick it up and inspect it.

“You’ve made enough to be able to tell by now.” He deadpans and you laugh softly with a nod.

“It’s a paper heart.” You smile up at him, “Did you make this for me?”

“Maybe.” He responds curtly as he slides into his chair beside you, but you catch the shy smile he’s harboring.

“Thank you.” He nods, “I could’ve done better though.”

He scoffs, “That’s not a fair comparison.”

“And why not?” You raise your eyebrows and he chuckles as he rolls his eyes.

“Read the note inside and you’ll know why.”

“There’s a note inside?” You exclaim excitedly as you start to unfold the heart and he yanks it out of your hands.

“No! Read it later when I’m, like, far away from you.” He says defensively and you furrow your eyebrows but nod in agreement.

“Alright, I’ll read it after school.” You take it back from him and put it in your robe. You resume folding the butterfly and smile when you see that it’s done.

Draco watches intently as you finish it, expecting you to hand it to him once it’s finished, and furrows his eyebrows in confusion when you set it down and scan the classroom.

“Harry!” You exclaim as you watch him walk from the door and toward you with a bright smile.

“Y/N.” He responds once he’s standing in front of you. “Is this for me?” He asks once he sees the butterfly on your desk, and Draco is about to scoff at the question but you nod your head eagerly.

“Of course!” You pick it up and give it to Harry, watching excitedly as he opens it up and reads the note inside.

Draco watches in silent envy as Harry laughs, at whatever you’ve written in the note, and brings his lips down to your forehead. “Thank you so much butterfly, I love it.”

You smile proudly and your eyes light up as you watch Harry cast a charm to make the butterfly flap it’s wings and fly down to his desk. “When are you going to teach me that? I’ve been asking for weeks now!”

“If I taught you then I wouldn’t have anything to impress you with.” He smirks as he leaves to his desk and you shake your head with a laugh.

“You two seem to be quite friendly now…” Draco mumbles, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice. The butterflies that had been erupting in his stomach earlier that morning being trampled to death by Harry.

“Yeah, we’ve been-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp as you catch a glimpse of the ring that you bought Draco, “You’re wearing it!”

He smiles at your excitement, thinking about how such simple expressions from you leave butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “Yes.” He chuckles and you smile.

“I thought you didn’t like it.” You respond softly and he feels his heart break.

“No, not at all. I just didn’t want other people getting jealous.”

He smiles at you and you feel that familiar bubbling in your stomach, like rosh bushes blooming at the sight of the sun, but you can’t exactly pinpoint the feeling.

Later that day when you’re sat beneath a tree and reading Draco’s letter, you know exactly what that feeling is.

~~~

Y/N.

Beautiful, funny, kind, observant, utterly perfect Y/N.

I’ve spent the last three hours trying to come up with a reason for you to forgive me, I couldn’t come up with one. I also tried to find an excuse, any really, that could justify my horrid actions over the last few weeks, and I couldn’t find one. So instead, I settled on just telling you the truth.

I’m a coward.

You’re probably laughing right now and thinking, “He’s only realising this now?”, and the answer is yes. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but you’re the brighter one between us two. It took me 103 more days than you, to realise what you knew the first day you made me a paper heart; the two of us are meant to be.

That sounds a bit cheesy doesn’t it? Doesn’t matter anyway, because in note 12 you said that you enjoy my cheesy anecdotes. I’m not sure why though, I’m not particularly sure why you love anything about me when you’re you, but I guess some mysteries can never be solved.

I’m sorry for those words I said that day on the train, I didn’t mean them. I was scared of what my parents would think if I fell for a muggle-born witch, but I forgot one important thing; it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that I’ve never been as happy as when I’m with you. If I could spend the rest of my life getting these perfect little paper hearts from you, listening to your sweet laugh, bothering you when you’re trying to get work done and buying you rings that match the ones on my hands, then I’d be over the moon.

I’m sorry for taking so long to tell you this; I love you Y/N. I know that I haven’t earned a second chance but if by some miracle you decide to grant me one then I promise to make it worth your while.

I would pick the stars out of the sky for you Y/N, if only you asked me to.

Happy Valentine’s Day from your pretty boy.

You look up from the letter and wipe the tears that had managed to escape, before getting off the grass and running back into the castle. When you find Draco eating dinner in the Great Hall, and see him flash you a shy smile, you instantly know what that feeling from earlier was.

It was butterflies reviving.

~~~

get added to my taglist <33

taglist : @purpleskymalfoy, @astoria-malfcy, @dreaming-about-fanfictions, @dracoscene

~~~

I’m pretty sure I completely deviated from what you wanted, I’m so sorry if it’s not satisfactory :( It’s so cheesy and I feel like I messed it up at a few points but either way I liked writing it, it made me very happy to finally write some Draco fluff again.

anyway, love you all,

jean <3

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