#Frozen Shoulder Market Demand

[book-place]

The Thing About Love

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Tewksbury x sister reader

Request: So, what about being Tewksbury's younger sister and teasing him about Enola??

Request by: @creative-girl

*not my gif*

Summary: It was really just a simple inquiry, but then again, your brother always was dramatic

A/N: I’m literally obsessed with Enola Holmes

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Brother,” You announced, striding into the sitting room, “I need to talk to you about love.”

Tewksbury’s head snapped up at that, “You’re not in love are you?” His eyes widened in horror at the thought.

You rolled your eyes impatiently, plopping down in a chair across from him, “No, of course not,” A sly smirk made its way onto your face, “But you are…”

He sputtered on air for a moment before choking out, “And wherever did you hear a thing like that?”

You shrugged, proudly stating, “I heard some of the maids whispering about it.”

A huff escaped from his lips as he tried to go back to whatever book he was reading, “It is none of their business, and nor is it yours.”

Your smirk widened as you leaned forward in your seat, “Does Miss Enola Holmes know that you love her?”

He snapped his book shut and glared at you, standing up, “That is none of your concern.” He was really starting to grow annoyed, something you loved to do to him.

You leaned back with a giggle, putting a hand over your mouth, “Oh, alright, don’t get all angry with me.” A snicker escaped your lips.

Groaning playfully, you skipped after him as he stomped out of the room, clearly leaving to try and get some peace and quiet.

“What happens in my life is not for you to know, especially not… that.” He threw a glare at you from over his shoulder.

Dramatically, you threw a hand over your heart, “Oh, how you wound me, brother!”

An idea sparked in your head as you both entered the gardens, him sitting down against a tree and opening his book once again, and a mischievous smirk took over your features.

You quickly shook it off and put your acting skills to the test, timidly walking over to your brother as you rubbed your hand up and down one of your arms.

“Brother?” You called out hesitantly, head trained to the ground, but eyes glancing up at him.

He turned his head up and opened his mouth to snap at you once more, but closed it when he saw the state you were in, “What is it?” He softened slightly.

It took every bit of willpower you had not to laugh at how geniuses your plan was.

“I… I really did want to ask you about love.” You replied, making sure to turn red a little bit at your words, “There’s… this boy.”

Once again, his book was slammed shut and he was on his feet quicker than you could blink.

“A boy?” He demanded, eyes holding a different kind of rage than you had ever seen before, “Who?”

You sighed dreamily for extra effect as you looked up to the sky, “Oh, just this boy I met at the market the other day. He really is the most wonderful boy I have ever met.”

“Who?” He seethed again, knuckles turning white from where he was gripping his book. Then, he began murmuring to himself, “Why, when I get my hands on him-“

That was when it became too much, you burst out in laughter, doubling over in the most un-ladylike fashion, even snorting a little bit.

“Oh, my!” You exclaimed, reaching up to wipe a tear, “You really should have seen your face, brother, I could hardly have hoped for such a reaction!”

He stood frozen for a moment before he realized you were making the whole thing up and he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and beginning to once again sulk away.

“Oh, come now, brother!” You called after him in between giggles, “You must admit, that was comical!”

“It most certainly was not!” He snapped back.

You grinned and hurried along after him, “So, tell me more about you and Enola.”

Detectives 🕵️- none yet

[andinthedarknessbindthem]

Dwalin X Reader - Arguement

This is based on a 'Sickeningly Sweet Relationship Bingo Card' that I found and forgot to save. So if I find that post, I'll add it here!

I'm a bit rusty since I haven't written since 2019, so please feel free to send requests or comments on anything I need to change! Thank you and much love! <3

✿ Words: 1,037

✿ Themes: Kinda(?) Angst, Fluff

✿ Prompt: From bickering to makeouts

✿ Posted: 2/12/23

Something had been off with Dwalin the last few days and you had yet to find out why. He first had asked you to find him a sack. When you questioned him, he said something about needing to tote some things around. Then he asked you to pull out his winter cloak, saying it was for the upcoming cold season. Then on top of that, you could hear him late at night, sharpening his once dusty axe’s. He was up to something.

You tried and tried again to approach him about the subject, but he just kissed your forehead gently and told you the same excuses.

That same morning, he had asked you to back his bag for a few-day hunting trip that he hurriedly planned in a few days. Questioning him again, Dwalin dipped down and placed a loving kiss on your lips and left you standing in the doorway. You dumbly obliged to his wishes and reluctantly let him go through the door. 

You packed up his bag with dried meats, loaves of bread, and other goods. Once you were finished, you decided to make use of the rest of your day and head to the markets. Maybe you could persuade him with his favorite dinner? You scoured the stalls for hours, trying to find the key ingredients. You had spent quite the coin at the end of the day, but you wanted to make Dwalin something special to boost his mood and maybe convince him to tell you what was happening.

Once you arrived home from the markets though, your heart dropped. His bag and axes were gone, along with a few other key items. You threw your basket on the ground and slammed the door behind you, quickly running towards the gate leading out of town.

You nearly tripped as you ran through the busy part of the settlements to find your betrothed. Your brain was running wild with many conflicting thoughts of anger and fear.

How long had he been gone? Too long. He’s probably too far by now.

Maybe he’s just going hunting? With his axes? No.

Did he plan on leaving you? He wouldn’t! He couldn’t. 

Once I find him I’m going to tear him a new one.

By the good grace of Mahal, you finally caught him as he was just passing through the gates to leave.  

Rage blinded you as you shoved his shoulder to get his attention. He didn’t even falter, “When were you going to tell me you were leaving? Once you came back?” Your voice was filled with venom, but there was a small shake of despair to your words. 

His body did a half-turn in your direction, a sorrowful but stern look on his face as he gazed over everything but your own eyes. He turned back towards the forest with a shake of his head and continued walking. “Aye, go back home. This is no business of a woman.” His tone was calm but commanding. 

You blinked a few times, your heart felt frozen with how cold he was acting toward you. "You thick-headed oaf! Don't you dare talk to me that way! I know this isn’t because of me being a woman." You hissed, following after him.

“I can’t keep ye safe outside of these walls, (Y/N).” He began, slowing his walk to a complete stop. He still wouldn’t face you, “I cannot promise yer protection.”

“I am not useless, Dwalin. I can help! You know I can handle myself in a fight!” Your voice betrayed you, you couldn’t help as the sadness overpowered your fury.

“No!” He puffed out his chest as he turned towards you now. “You will not follow me.” He demanded. If you hadn’t known Dwalin, you probably would have backed down there. But you knew him well, too well.

“Kakhafu durh 'umalul sakh mi mê!” You seethed the words through your teeth. He let out a large sarcastic laugh at you. (The back side of a troll is a more pleasing sight than you.)

“Like yer one to talk!” Dwalin scoffed and crossed his arms, eyes blazing down at you. ”Me asnân tada Mahal duhû kansu tah.”  (You are proof that Mahal has a sense of humor.)

You took a step up to him now. “Sigin'adadmêzu kasat gairurukhs.” You said in a matter-of-fact tone. To the outside eye, it would almost seem as though you both were about to kill each other. But no one dared to step in if they saw you both. (Your grandfather was a goblin.)

He lowered his arms to his sides again, taking the last step between the both of you and pressing your chests together. Challenging him, you continued to glare into his eyes as he glowered down at you. “Adadmêzu duhû bintarg.” A hint of a smirk was dancing on his lips now. (Your father has no beard.)

As you went to open your mouth for another rebuttal, his hands grasped the sides of your face pulling your lips together in a rough heated kiss. The kind of kiss where your teeth clashed together and lips grew numb. You growled in surprise, but it wasn’t completely unwelcome. His lips were rough and calculated, his mustache tickling your cheeks and jaw. Your once rigid body slowly became limp in his arms as your lips melted together. Your teeth clashing simmered down to a soft interlocking of your lips. His hands slid down to your waist, hoisting you up as your legs hooked on his hips. You dragged your fingers into his beard, giving him a light tug. As you finally pulled away, he softly bit onto your bottom lip. Your rage was no longer as he held you so lovingly in his arms.

You unfurled your fingers from his beard, instead bringing your hands ups to caress his cheeks. "I'm going." You said in a much softer tone, thumbs rubbing in soothing lines. You searched his eyes for any sign of disappointment, but he just let out a muted sigh and held you closer.

"If you must," He huffed in agreement before adding a quick, “But if I say hide ye will!”  You smiled and pressed your forehead to his.

[dumfanting]

S.O.S

Contains spoilers for “The Outpost”, watch the episode before reading

AO3 Link

Rating: T

Warnings: angst, injury, death, canon-typical violence

Notes: second person perspective, past tense going into present tense, readers gender unspecified

Word count: 2907

Banged this out in about an hour or so, apologies if it’s a mess. I’m in a glass case of emotion!

Commander Mayday/ Reader

On the run from the Empire, you find sanctuary in an unexpected man, but not for long.

Last warning for spoilers

You cursed under your breath as you sprinted across the hangar and up the ramp of your small ship. You’d let yourself get too comfortable here, and when you let your guard down in the nearby market, a pair of Storm Troopers had recognized you and demanded you come with them. Of course, you didn't, and now they were chasing you. A stray blaster shot hit just above your head and you dove for the piloting controls, drawing the ramp back up as you started the engines.

It didn’t move fast enough. One of the men had managed to take a wild shot at you through the closing gap and hit you in the shoulder. You gritted your teeth and took flight, and as you left the atmosphere, you were relieved to see that nobody was chasing after you. Regardless, you needed to get as far away as possible.

You were several planets away and about to jump into hyperspace when the left engine failed. You looked at the frozen planet closest to you, realized you wouldn’t be able to go any further, and decided to try and find somewhere to hide there, until you could repair the engine. You were about halfway between the atmosphere and the ground, then your right engine failed. Panicking, you strapped yourself down as securely as you could to the pilot's seat and braced for impact.

You crashed through an unknown number of trees, then eventually came to a stop at a steep angle in a massive snow bank. You carefully looked around and tried to assess the damage; several of your instruments and indicators were flashing and beeping. You unbuckled the harness that had held you in place, and when you fell forward and broke your fall with your hands and knees, a sudden shooting pain went through your left forearm. You shakily stood up and realized it was broken.

The adrenaline had muddied your thoughts, so you weren’t thinking clearly when you left the ship and just ran in a random direction. On the way down, you had spotted a cluster of lights from what looked like a small outpost of some kind, and headed for that. Fighting through the pain of both a broken bone and blaster-shot wound on the same side, you feel yourself start to lose energy at a frightening pace. You push against it and the oncoming wind, determined to get as close to the outpost as possible. At this point you didn’t care if it was Imperial, you just didn’t want to bleed to death or freeze or both out here.

The wind feels like sharp knives as it whips across your body and face; you were woefully under dressed for these conditions. You start to get dizzy, but you’re close enough to the structure now that you can see the silhouettes of people through the blasts of wind and snow. Clutching your arm to your chest, you call out, hoping someone would be able to hear you.

As you got closer, you should have been startled by the sight of several pulse rifles pointed at you, but you were in too much pain to really notice. One of the men demanded to know what you were doing there, and you managed to pant out “ship… crashed, injured, shot,” before you fell onto your knees.

You heard a yell, ordering the men to stand down as someone rushed over.

Whoever it was took their helmet off as they hunkered down in front of you. It’s a clone. You started to panic, realizing you’d just walked into an Imperial post, but the man held you by the uninjured shoulder, stopping you from standing again.

“Who are you?” you asked weakly, vision starting to fade.

“Commander Mayday,” he said, and you were surprised by how worried he sounded.

“Mayday,�� you repeated, fighting to stay conscious. You were able to softly say your own name before passing out.

—

When you next woke, you had little memory of how you had gotten here. In fact, you didn't even know where ‘here’ was. You abruptly sat up, then cried out in pain when the muscles in your shoulder flexed, reminding you extremely quickly that you had been shot.

The room you were in was dim, but you could still see the door slide open, though you couldn’t make out who walked inside. The figure clicked on a light overhead, and it’s a clone. You recognized him as the one you had told your name outside, then everything flooded back to you.

You scrambled backward, pressing yourself against the wall and ignoring the screaming pain of your arm and shoulder. If this man was a clone, that meant that you’d walked right back into the Empire's hands.

He watched you panic, and held his hands up, palms facing you, and said your name.

“You’re going to turn me in, aren’t you!” you shouted, your heart beating like a drum in your chest.

“We’re not doing anything with you,” he said, and you’re surprised again by the concern in his voice. “Your ship crashed and you wandered over here. Our medic did what he could for you, but you need to calm down before you make it any worse. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, and his calm tone managed to ease your fear, though not enough to let your guard down.

“But you’re Imperials,” you said, grimacing against the pain. “I’m a deserter, surely you know what should happen to me,” you said, suspicious.

“I’m only here because I was told to be, I didn’t have any choice in the matter. Besides, the higher ups seem to have forgotten that we’re even here,” he said, and chanced a step closer.

You didn’t shrink away from him, so he knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed you were in. “Listen, even if I was going to turn you in, you have nowhere else to go,” he continued. “Your ship is a wreck, and there’s nothing else around for miles. Now, if someone does show up, yeah, I’ll have to hand you over, but I’m not going out of my way to get them here,” he said.

“But why?” you asked, confused.

“The Empire has a problem with you, me and my men don’t,” he said.

You finally relaxed your muscles, and the pain in your shoulder subsided significantly. You looked the man before you up and down. There’s something in his eyes that convinced you to trust him. “Against my better judgment, I believe you,” you said, and he looks relieved. “Commander Mayday, is that right?” you ask.

He nods and said your name, then added “call me May,” after a moment of thought.

—

“May, stay with me,” you say with a pout, watching the Commander get dressed from the bed you shared.

Mayday looks in your direction and chuckles. “You’re really going to do that every single day, aren’t you?” he says, walking over and resting his hands on your shoulder, the blaster wound on your left having long healed.

“Maybe after another hundred rotations of me asking, you actually will,” you say with a smirk.

“Maybe,” he repeats before stooping down to kiss you. “But not today cyare,” he says, annoyed.

“You’re annoyed,” you say.

He sighs. “Yeah, the Empire has decided to stop ignoring us and come pick all this stuff up,” he says.

“Took them long enough,” you mutter, crossing your arms. Then a moment of panic suddenly sets in. “Oh shit, May, I shouldn’t be here, what if they find me?” you say, jumping out of bed and hurriedly getting dressed.

He curses under his breath. “Dank ferrik, you’re right. Take your ship and hide on the other side of the pass,” he says after a moment of thought. “I don’t know how long this will take, but I’ll tell you when to come back the moment they leave,” he continues, slipping his helmet on.

You nod at him, and just before he opens the door to his quarters, you jog over and kiss the side of his helmet. “Be careful,” you say, sounding anxious.

“I’ll try my best,” Mayday says, his voice staticky as it comes through his vocoder. He pats your shoulder, then exits.

You finish getting dressed, then dash around the small room, gathering up your sparse belongings. You didn’t want the Imps to find even a trace of you, so you stuff everything into a large backpack, shrug it on over your heavy coat, then make your way out of the small station.

—

It had taken several weeks to repair, but now your ship starts up right away, and you’re able to move from the station to the other side of the pass in just a few minutes. You land in a small gap between massive boulders, being sure to stay as hidden as possible. You shut everything off, even the heater, then stuff yourself into a compartment barely big enough to contain you and whatever blankets or coats you could bundle up under and shut the door. It’s dark, and it’s cramped, but you’re relatively warm and from the outside nobody would be able to tell that you’re hiding here. It’s a good thing you aren’t claustrophobic, you thought, curling in on yourself, trying to stay as warm as possible.

It occurs to you that you have no idea how long you’ll have to be out here. Picking up cargo should only take a handful of hours, but what if you wind up stuck here for an entire day, or more? You shake yourself. That doesn’t matter.

Having deserted the Imperial Army only a few weeks after it was established, you’ve been extremely careful not to be found. You’d been doing well, managing to stay out of their way for at least a year or so, but your luck ran out several months ago. At least, that’s what you thought when you first got here.

The wind blowing against the ship whistles, but you’re still able to hear the droning of cargo ship engines. You close your eyes and pray to whoever or whatever is listening that you’re hidden well enough. You don’t really care if you get caught at this point, but you know that if you do, Mayday and his very few remaining men will be punished harshly for harboring a fugitive. The very thought of what could happen to them makes your stomach churn.

You brought your comm device with you, and it chirps softly. Having to wiggle awkwardly due to the confined space, you dig it out of one of your pockets. The display is painfully bright in the dark, but after your eyes adjust you can see a message from Mayday.

“They’ve arrived. Radio silence,” it says. You nod to yourself and stuff the device back into its place.

After a few hours, the adrenaline had long since worn off, and you’d managed to fall asleep.

—

You’re abruptly yanked out of sleep by the sound of your comm link chirping. You scramble to answer it.

“May?” you say, worried. You can’t hear much aside from what sounds like snow being moved around. He must have called you by accident. You’re about to end the call when you hear an unfamiliar voice from the other side. Whoever it is is muffled by the sound of the wind, but you can hear Mayday’s response.

“Leave me, I won’t make it,” he says, barely audible over the background noise.

“Mayday!” you scream into the comm. “Mayday, what happened? Where are you?” you shout, desperately hoping either he or whoever was with him would hear you.

You hear a shuffle, then the unfamiliar gruff voice is clear enough for you to understand. “Avalanche. He’s hurt, I’m taking him back to base,” he says.

“I’m in my ship, I can come get you! Where are you?” You say, kicking the door to your hiding place open and clawing your way out.

“Other side of the mountain, don’t know exactly where,” he says, and you can hear Mayday groaning faintly in the background.

“I’ll find you, don’t move!” You say, dropping into the pilot's seat and starting the ship again.

“Can’t, we’ll freeze,” he says. He says something else you can’t hear, and the connection is lost.

You scream out a string of curses and punch the control panel in fear and frustration. As soon as the engines are warmed up, you take off into the air, fighting against the wind and no longer caring if the Imperials find you.

—

You’ve been looking for Mayday and the stranger for over an hour with no luck. The conditions have limited your visibility severely, and you’ve had to make emergency maneuvers to avoid crashing into the landscape several times. You refuse to give up. All the while, you’ve been trying to reach Mayday’s comm line, but with no luck. You’re about to return to where you started, when the call finally goes through.

“Where are you?” you say, now frantic.

“Station,” the stranger says, and you can hear how weak and cold he is, which triples your worry about the two of them. You can hear faint shouting in the background, then the call cuts out again.

You decide then and there that you no longer give a shit about the Imps finding you, and pilot your ship directly towards the outpost. You have to fight against the wind the entire way, and the string of curses coming from your lips never lets up.

When you finally manage to reach the outpost, the wind has died down enough for you to clearly see what’s going on below, and it’s obviously not good. Mayday is collapsed on the ground, and the stranger who’s been with him falls to his knees.

Throwing caution to the wind, you land your ship only a dozen meters or so behind them, then hop off of the ramp before it opens completely, running towards them.

Someone who you faintly recognize as a Lieutenant notices you, and shouts for you to stop, but you ignore him and everything else around you entirely, falling to your own knees and sliding down the ice to Mayday’s side. He’s breathing, but it’s faint and labored. You carefully slip his helmet off and hold his face in your hands. He’s cold. Too cold.

“Mayday!” you cry, unsure if he can even hear you.

He coughs, and manages to meet your eyes. “You,” he says, panting and shivering. “They’ll get you, you shouldn’t be here,” he says, and you can barely hear him over the man on his other side begging the Lieutenant for a medic.

“I don’t care,” you say, blocking everything else out.

Mayday tries to say something else, but all that comes out is a pained wheeze.

“No, no no no,” you say, “May! Stay with me!”

He coughs and shakes his head. With considerable effort, he weakly reaches for you, and you grab his hand. “You’re really going to say that every day, aren’t you?” he says. “I’m sorry, cyare,” he says. His voice grows faint and his already tenuous grip on your hand completely slips away. He’s gone.

You scream, and the stranger beside him yells angrily at the Lieutenant, who sounds like he’s coming closer.

“He served his purpose,” the man says coldly. “Just like you will. Now get up and get back to work,” he says with a sneer, turning his back and walking away, seeming to have forgotten about the fugitive right in front of him.

You drag your eyes away from Mayday’s unmoving body and watch as the stranger struggles to his feet. You cautiously stand, prepared to catch him when he eventually falls again. You get a better look at his face and you recognize him. Not long before you deserted, rumors were going around about a single survivor at Kamino, an altered clone with a tattoo around his eye and a thick burn scar on the side of his head.

Crosshair shakily raises a blaster, points it at the Lieutenant, shouts to get his attention, and the moment the man turns around, shoots him through the chest.

A split second later, Crosshairs legs give out, but you manage to catch him before he hits the ground. Everyone else seems too shocked to do anything, and you take the opportunity to make a break for your ship, half-dragging, half-carrying him alongside you. He had nearly died trying to get Mayday to safety, the least you could do was return the favor.

Only once you get into the ship and start to close the ramp behind you do the bystanding men realize what’s happening and start shooting at you. Thankfully every shot misses, and you’re able to completely close up the ship unscathed.

You drop Crosshair onto your bunk, then dash for the ship controls, tears streaming down your face. You take off immediately, hoping you have enough time to outrun the men coming after you. The wind and snow have picked back up, reducing visibility again. You use this to your advantage and move in a serpentine pattern as the ship climbs, dodging the shots being fired at you.

You break through the atmosphere and throw the ship into hyperdrive, not caring where you would wind up, as long as it was as far away from this maker-forsaken place as possible.

————

Taglist: @kaminocasey @madameminor @grievouus @jennamelinda12

[mynameisjessejk]

But In Our Selves, Epilogue

Winter was, as predicted, brutally cold that year. There had been other brutal winters, but Feyrith would even admit out loud that sleeping the frozen nights away in Joyanna and Rodric’s spare room, tucking into Grim’s warm side was a vast improvement on huddling by the fire in the back of the Temple. The couple had been overjoyed to have Feyrith in from the cold, and as far as they were concerned the Rangers could do no wrong for bringing him in.

Beyond even that, Cael and Torna’s bows had kept the village from starving, along with the grain the Rangers had brought with them as supplies. Mistcross had held the winter better than expected, and Cael’s herbcraft meant a few survived fevers that might otherwise have taken them, including Joyanna. Not one word about extra mouths was spoken, not even for Grim’s relative inability to contribute, for the people of Mistcross knew what they owed the Rangers.

Cael and Torna had taken up residence in the miller’s barn loft, with his blessing, but Grim couldn’t climb the ladder. He had allowed Joyanna’s gentle bullying into the spare room with grace, and seemed happy enough to let Feyrith leech his body heat.

Not even the early morning growling deterred his cheer, greeting Feyrith with a grin and Joyanna was a teasing bow over her hand each day. He and Rodric got on amazingly well, talking about trade routes and market days and the skill of haggling. Joyanna and Feyrith ignored them, Joyanna doing the cooking and Feyrith keeping her quiet company.

Feyrith remained blindfolded most of the time in the village, even in the house, but the folk of Mistcross learned why, and when he was without his blindfold they made an effort to warn him before coming into his eyeline. Most of them didn’t want to know what he could tell them, and even them that were curious were more worried about his headaches than their future.

In the spring, Cael returned to his partners and his usual hunting grounds. According to Torna, Sabine was likely to have his head for staying away so long anyway. Torna, however, showed no signs of leaving. She helped with the planting, and shrugged when Grim asked. “I’ll go eventually,” she said as the equinox approached.

Captain’s probably found me a new partner by now.”

“I’m all right,” Grim said softly.

Feyrith tried not to listen.

Torna’s sneering at Grim was kind of hard to miss, though. She did it so clearly. “I’m not staying for you,” she lied extravagantly. “I’m staying for the entertainment.” She waved at Feyrith.

Feyrith was just about to demand what she was talking about when Yvette, one of the young women of the village said, “Hi Seer,” and as he reflexively snapped his eyes shut, plopped her little girl into Feyrith’s lap. “I’ll be just a second.”

Feyrith went entirely still. He stopped breathing for a long moment, and then made himself resume, slow and easy. By pure force of will, he didn’t tremble.

Grim chuckled. He also levered himself off the chair he was sitting in and hopped to Feyrith’s side, though, so Feyrith supposed he could be forgiven laughing. Grim scooped the baby up, settling her against his shoulder. He hummed a rough lullaby, rocking the little girl gently as she stirred. “Hey there pretty girl,” he cooed softly. “You’re so lovely.”

Feyrith breathed out, no longer in possession of the baby. “Do all humans start so small?” he asked plaintively. “How do you keep from breaking them?”

Feyrith caught the edge of the grin Grim hid in the girl’s hair, but he only growled softly at him. “Elves do too, you know,” Grim said fondly, and offered a piece of jerky.

Feyrith still hadn’t figured out where he kept it. He growled at Grim on principle, but he took the jerky.

Grim leaned over and kissed his temple.

Feyrith snapped his teeth at Grim, and managed to catch cloth at his shoulder.

Grim bopped him on the head.

Yvette had watched all this with amusement, and took this moment to step forward and claim her daughter. “Don’t you pay attention to them, sweetheart,” she murmured. “We’ll teach you not to bite.”

Feyrith, eyes clamped closed again, rumbled disagreement. “Should bite if necessary,” he said. “We’ll teach her when to bite.”

“Not when someone kisses you,” Grim added, and his smile, so familiar now, was audible in his voice. “It’ll be great.”

Yvette laughed. “Thank you Ranger,” she said cheerfully as she tucked the baby back into the carrying sling on her chest.

Grim smiled back. Feyrith knew he’d stopped bothering to correct the townsfolk about him being retired and therefore no longer a Ranger, but Feyrith also knew he hadn’t stopped thinking it when they called him that. “No trouble, Yvette,” he said. “She’s lovely as usual.”

“You can say so,” Yvette laughed, “You get to sleep through the night.”

“It’s true,” Grim agreed.

Yvette bustled off again, child reclaimed and things to do.

Feyrith opened his eyes again. “Hmph,” he said.

Grim looped an affectionate arm around his shoulders. “Torna has finally admitted she’s leaving eventually,” he informed Feyrith loftily. The area around his face was still clear of any visions. “Now we just have to get her to set a time,” he continued.

Torna interrupted by blowing a raspberry at him. She was still sitting on the low wall around the miller’s cottage.

“Good,” Feyrith retorted, blowing a raspberry back. “No one needs her here.”

“Anymore,” Torna drawled.

Feyrith inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Grim chuckled. “The nice thing for me is, neither of you are wrong. I don’t even have to pick a side.”

Feyrith snapped his teeth at him.

Torna blew another raspberry.

“I’m glad you stayed with me,” Feyrith blurted, shoulders drawing up around his ears. “I would’ve been lonely, coming back here without you.”

Grim kissed his temple again. “I would’ve missed you too,” he said fondly.

Feyrith prodded him. “I said a thing,” he demanded. “Where’s my jerky?”

“You told him!” Grim shouted, lunging playfully at Torna.

Torna laughed and danced further out of reach. She winked at Feyrith and skipped further up the road to help Rodric load his cart. Grim chuckled fondly, settling back to the bench beside Feyrith, and obediently handed over a strip of jerky.

Feyrith leaned into Grim’s shoulder as he chewed, rumbling contentedly.

[foodsindustry]

Frozen Foods Market Share, Development Plans – Competitive Landscape and Forecast Period

Freezing is one of the easiest, quickest, versatile, and the most convenient method for preserving food items or ingredients. Frozen foods are a better alternative for preserving foods rather than other methods as it helps maintain the colour, texture, original flavour, and comprises more nutritional value. The global market is expanding at a speedy fashion due to the all-year round availability and convenience of consuming such products. The global frozen foods market share is anticipated to experience notable growth during the forecast period of 2022 to 2030. The improved distribution potential due to online channels and brick and mortar facilities is estimated to spur the frozen food market share in the impending years.

Some of the key market players are investing time and effort to focus on research and development activities to introduce new and innovative products for satisfying the demands of the consumer. Additionally, companies are expanding their product portfolios to quench the increasing demand among the consumers for ready-to-eat and ready-to-cook food. Modern techniques and technologies for food freezing results in minimal changes in food quality and helps keep the nutritional aspect of the food item intact. The convenience in terms of preparation and availability of high-quality processed food is projected to boost the growth of the global frozen foods market during the forecast period.

Competitive Landscape

The global frozen foods market hosts a number of key and important players, including McCain Foods Limited (Canada), SAB de CV (Mexico), General Mills Inc. (US), Nestlé S.A. (Switzerland), Grupo Bimbo (Mexico), The Kraft Heinz Company (US), Conagra Brands, Inc. (US), Kellogg Company (US), Unilever PLC (UK), and Vandemoortele NV (Belgium).

Market Segmentation

The global frozen foods market segmentation is based in terms of distribution channel, product type, and region.

By distribution channel, the market divides food retail and food service. The food retail segment is narrowed down into supermarkets and hypermarkets, convenience stores, and others. The food retail segment is anticipated to attain the highest revenue in the forthcoming years. The segment is even projected to register the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

By product type, the market segments into meat, poultry, and seafood, fruits and vegetables, bakery and confectionary, dairy and frozen desserts, and others. The meat, poultry, and seafood market segment is expected to hold the largest share with the highest CAGR in the global market due to the high nutritional content it comprises as compared to other processed foods.

By region, the market covers four key regions, namely Asia Pacific, North America, Europe, and Rest-of-the-World (RoW).

Regional Analysis

Regionally, the North America region is anticipated to have the dominating hand over the global market for frozen foods during the forecast period. The dominance of the region can be attributed to various key factors like the presence of a consumer base with high per capita disposable incomes, existence of several key market players, and evolving habits in lifestyle and food.

In Europe, the market is expected to witness notable growth during the forecast period. The growth of the market can be attributed to the evolving perception of frozen foods. Frozen foods are considered as convenience food, this has thereby resulted in various retail chains taking interest including supermarkets and hypermarkets and stocking these products across Europe. This is boosting the growth and demand for frozen foods in the European region.

The Asia Pacific region, however, stands head and shoulders above other regional markets in terms of speed of growth. The report published by MRFR not only positions Asia Pacific as a key region in the global landscape but also forecasts that the region will grow with the highest CAGR during the assessment period. The report even mentions the factor driving this striking growth trajectory of frozen foods in Asia Pacific. This is due to the high inclination of consumers shifting towards ready-to-cook and convenience products.

Industry News:

March 26th, Alpha Foods, a California-based producer of plant-based frozen meals, announced through a release that it has raised a funding of USD 7 million. The funding round was led by AccelFoods and New Crop Capital.

March 22nd, 2019, Birds Eye, one of the major manufacturers of frozen food, announced the launch of a new plant-based vegan product line named the Green Cuisine. The product line will feature debuts of burgers, vegan sausages, and Swedish-styled meatballs.

NOTE: Our Team of Researchers are Studying Covid19 and its Impact on Various Industry Verticals and wherever required we will be considering Covid19 Footprints for Better Analysis of Market and Industries. Cordially get in Touch for More Details.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Sleep

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: M (mentions of violence, sleep deprivation, insomnia, allusions to sexy time at the very end but no actual smut)

word count: 1k

din masterlist

Din had a complicated relationship with sleep. For the bulk of his life, the need for sleep was simply a weakness, a moment in which his guard was down.

During his youth, training as a Mandalorian foundling, he was taught to get by on as little sleep as possible, sometimes being forced to stay awake for days at a time in order to build stamina. His mind and body fought back against this training for a long time, but eventually, he became accustomed to living off an hour or two of not-so restful slumber a night.

When he met Grogu, his priorities shifted—voluntarily or not. The kid was a kid, requiring large amounts of rest at a time and nearly demanding his new guardian join him in it. So, after a bit, Din’s hour of sleep a night became three hours, maybe four if he’d really had a long day. Still just enough to get by, leaving true slumber and dreams to people who deserved it. People who didn’t hurt people for a living.

But then…you came into his life.

A softness he never felt before. A softness he never felt he deserved.

He was lost from the moment he saw you standing in the market in Mos Eisley, haggling away with a Geonosian over the rewards for your haul of scraps. The way you spoke, the way you moved, the delicate lines of your body contrasting with the absolute vulgarities slipping from your barely-red-tinged lips. He was frozen in awe, catching everyone’s attention with his seemingly blank stare including the child.

“Can I help you?” The Geonosian asked, your head turning to look at the source of interruption. Din was suddenly incredibly grateful for his helmet that covered the barely there flush on his cheeks when you gave him a once over.

“I can wait.” He choked out after a few more seconds of silence, his voice strained even through the modulator. Your lips curled into a smile and effectively claimed his soul, your shoulders shrugging.

“No, go ahead. I’m going to be here for a while.” Your voice was so much softer than it had been just a moment ago, and if your shouting had him enthralled, the voice you used just for him had him ready to drop to his knees. With a stumble forward, he nodded at you once to thank you before turning to the Geonosian.

As he spoke with the junk seller about a part he was needing for his N1, you stood right beside him, your eyes locked onto the profile of his helmet. If he hadn’t been so sure that you were an angel, he may have considered you a threat. Your proximity, your attentiveness, your…existence was enough to turn his mind to mush and weaken all the survival instincts he had beaten into him during his training.

“You’re a Mandalorian?” Your voice was tender again, and he began to wonder if the shouting match he’d just walked in on was the first ever occurrence, your voice having no grit to it to prove otherwise. His head turned, looking at you through the blackened visor that took all beauty out of the world around him, but somehow yours remained. “A foundling?”

“Yes.” His tone didn’t convey his interest, he was aware of that, but you didn’t seem to flinch one bit. Your lips curled into another smile and you nodded, eyeing him again more purposefully this time.

“This is the way.” His lips parted at your knowledge of his creed, a chuckle escaping your lips. “My parents were servants on Mandalore before the purge.”

“You’re Mandalorian?” He turned his body completely towards you, forgetting all about his transaction as you gave him your backstory, his head nodding every so often to prove that he was listening.

“I was hoping to use these credits to buy a ticket to…well, anywhere. As long as I get off this planet. But…apparently I didn’t scavenge as well as I thought I did.” He watched you shoot daggers at the Geonosian who was walking back with Din’s part. Din mindlessly paid the creature as he thought hard about the proposal floating around his head.

“I…have a ship.” He spoke up as he took his part and tucked it into his satchel with Grogu, the child holding it like a toy. “And seeing as you’re Mandalorian…I could take you off planet. It’s just…me and the kid.”

“How much?” Your question made him frown inside of his helmet.

“Free of charge.” He insisted with a smile, though you couldn’t see it.

“Oh, I can’t accept—“

“This is the way.”

One year later and here you were, sleeping soundly beside him in the bed that you built together, in the cabin that you built together, tucked away in a forest on some tiny, peaceful planet. There were no more threats here to keep him up at night, only his desire to watch you.

He knew he should rest, that he should join you in your soft snoring, but how could he willingly close his eyes when you were right there looking like that?

His fingertips ghosted over your skin, not quite touching you but needing to feel the warmth radiating from your body—as though your limbs entangled with his wasn’t enough.

“Go to sleep,” you mumbled as you cuddled him closer, still half-asleep. Din smiled down and pressed his lips against your forehead, keeping them there.

“Can’t.” He spoke against you, his voice barely a whisper. Your eyes peeled open and head lifted off his chest to look up at him. “You look so beautiful like this, mesh’la. I can’t stop looking.”

With a chuckle, you bit your lip, touching the tip of your finger to his nose. “You’re too sweet for your own good, Din Djarin.”

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered back, his voice laced with utter sincerity. “I cant help it.”

“Can you try? For me? I’ll only go to sleep if you do.” He pouted at you, poking his bottom lip out. You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, his hand reaching to tangle in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

“You know what’s better than sleep?” He flipped you onto your back, hands wandering up and down your sides as he slotted himself between your thighs. With a giggle, you felt his beard tickle your throat as he pecked your pulse.

“Only if you promise you'll go to sleep with me afterwards.” He smiled against you and nodded, lifting his head to look in your eyes.

“This is the way.”

•••

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[erodasfishtacos]

It’s Just Me (mini blurb)

if you enjoyed this fic - PLEASE reblog, rec, like, and come chat with me about the fic!

if you like my work and can donate as i do this for free - please consider donating to my ko-fi.

———————

It was a terrible twos kind of day. The kind of day when YN can’t tote Ivy along to a charity organization brunch because she would meltdown.

Harry had her in his office with him, she was sitting on a blanket Harry had laid out, and was quietly playing with her stuffed animals (mostly seals.)

Occasionally, she would babble to herself and get pissed of at her inatimate playmates, ending in her tossing it to the side.

He caught himself just staring at her, smiling as he watches the little human he and his soulmate created right in front of him.

When his phone rings, he automatically picks it up, professionally stating, “Styles.”

“Hi, this is Dan from Payroll,” The guys voice was already shaking and Harry knew he was about to get really pissed off.

“How can I help you?” He asks in a tone that’s was definitely did not sound like he wanted to provide any assistance.

There is a pregnant pause before Dan nearly stutters, “Er, I accidentally missed reviewing the marketing departments hours and they did not receive their last paycheck.”

Harry takes a very deep breathe because he wants to do what he normally would - scream through the phone at this idiot.

However, he can’t because his curly haired little baby is playing with her toys in the middle of the office with a smile.

“Please come up to my office,” Harry replies curtly before hanging up.

He gets up, goes over to his daughter, and squats in front of her, “Ivy, baby.”

She looks up at him with a toothy grin before reaching over to hand him a stuffed seal, “Play, daddy.”

Harry thumbs over a stray curl on her forehead, “Daddy can’t, my love. I need y’to go with Granny Dor for a little.”

Ivy had been very clinging to both YN and Harry recently. She had a fit when YN dropped her off, despite how happy she was to see her dad.

Her brows furrow, lips purse, and Harry has to laugh because she looks like a carbon copy of him with the sour face.

“Oh, no mean looks t’daddy,” He hums with his own frown, “S’just for a moment, m’dove.”

“No.”

“Ivy, y’need to listen.”

And Harry knows it coming, she sucks in a huge breathe and then just lets out a scream in protest of him.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, y’do not scream. Y’know better. Are we going to have to take a timeout or are you going to go sit nice with Dor?” Harry’s voice is still softer than he’d use with any of him employees but extremely firm to her.

“No timeout, daddy,” She mumbles, her volume decreasing significantly as she lowers her gaze from her father’s.

“Alright, then c’mon. Thank you for listening,” Harry praises, gathering up her toys for her and leading her into his waiting room where Dorothy is typing away on her computer.

“Dor, Dan is coming up and I need to have a private meaning. Will y’watch her for a little?”

Ivy is already clambering up into her lap, into the warmth of her arms, and nuzzling in - because Granny Dor spoiled her silly.

Harry rolls his eyes, muttering, “And you and YN say I spoil her too much. Bloody ridiculous.”

Dorothy just shoos him away, readjusting Ivy’s bow, and combing through her hair softly to simmer her down a little.

Dan trails in solemnly soon after to face his inevitable doom.

He sees his boss’ daughter perched on the secretary’s lap and he wonders how such a sweet little thing could be created from the demon of a man.

As Harry and Dan meet, Ivy gets wriggly and squirms off of Dorothy’s lap.

“Stay close,” She murmurs to the toddler as she picks up her phone to answer a call for Harry.

Of course, Ivy doesn’t listen, and she noticed that the door to her father’s office is cracked open just the littlest bit.

It’s enough for her to slip through the space between the heavy doors and toddles on, she’s blocked by the leather couches so Harry can’t see her.

“I have givin’ you so many fuckin’ chances!” Harry seethes angrily at his employee. His tone was more like a growl than anything else.

Ivy pauses, eyes widening in fear as she hears her dad speak in a frightening manner she’s never heard before.

“I…There was a coding error that I had been distracted with, it won’t happen again,” Dan insists, knowing he had actually committed a fireable offense.

“You are absolutely correct because you’re fucking fired,” Harry replies, no wavering in his raspy register.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Dan explodes, “It’s unfucking fair treatment! It was one mistake, you fuckin’ asshole!”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I can fuckin’ show you unfair treatment. Get the fuck out of my office and learn how to do your goddamn job,” Harry retorts, his voice rising as well.

Ivy is stuck in her spot, frozen in surprise at hearing the arguing and how mad her father sounded, voice echoing through the room.

“You listen to me-“

“Get the fuck out of my office!” Harry booms furiously, this employee managing to get a rise out of him.

“I was ju-“

Both the men pause when they hear a wail from behind the sofa and the sound of Ivy plopping herself on the ground.

Harry instantly is out from behind his desk and going to round the sofa in a flash with a rose of panic in his chest.

His heart drops when he sees his baby looking up at him with fear in her watery eyes and she’s literally shaking.

“Oh, baby. Did y’hear daddy bein’ loud?” Harry murmurs in his sweetest, comforting voice - uncaring of his employee hearing him.

Harry expects her to nod sadly and ask for a cuddle but she instead wriggles backwards when he goes to reach for her - out of his reach.

“Ivy, little dove, s’just y’daddy,” He tries again, sitting down in front of her - doesn’t even look up as Dan leaves quietly.

She’s scared though and has had never felt worse in his life as his daughter backs away from him until she’s getting to her wobbly feet.

He tries again, reaching his arms out, “Ivy Elizabeth, s’just daddy. M’sorry I scared you, bub.”

Ivy doesn’t budge, crying loudly with her face pinched up as hot tears run down her soft chubby cheeks.

Dorothy appears with a worried look, “I apologize, I thought she was by the table.”

“S’not your fault I’m a shitty father,” Harry mutters, standing back up and roughly brushing off his trousers.

“Oh Harry, she’s just a little frightened,” Dorothy hums, picking the girl up when she toddles quickly over to her.

Her dad trails over, “Ivy, m’love. Can you look at daddy?”

She refuses, digging her face into the woman’s shoulder, curls bouncing fiercely as she clings onto her.

Harry loved to be feared. Not like this though. Not by the child he’d literally jump in front of a train for without a second thought.

He would rather have her screaming, pitching fits, throwing toys rather than this. She was so scared that she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Let me take her on a little stroll, okay? See if I can calm her down a bit.”

—

Harry waits patiently for Dorothy to arrive back but he automatically hears his daughter’s steady stream of sniffles and whimpers.

He goes out to the waiting room to see her reentering the room, she sighs, “I think it’s time to call mummy.”

Harry had no idea how he was going to explain this to his wife. He was I trouble and he knew he deserved it.

“Hey H, is the bab okay?” YN greets warmly, chattering in the background.

“Er, she’s okay, just upset. Ivy accidentally walked in on me flipping out and firing an employee. Now she’s scared. Dor tried to calm her down and she doesn’t want to be near me right now.”

YN’s next words were calm, Harry however did not miss the sharp edge when she replies, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Then she hangs up on him.

Which she really never does unless she is really really upset.

—

When YN arrives, Ivy is sat on Dorothy’s lap with puffy eyes and her thumb tucked between her full lips, popping it out when she sees her mother.

“Mumma!” Ivy shrieks, tears beginning streaming down her face as she impatiently waits for her to cross the room and gives her a soft kiss to the forehead.

“Hi baby, give mummy one minute and then we’ll leave okay?” YN murmurs soothingly, thumbing of some of the tears.

Ivy nods but is standing next the secretary’s desk, waiting patiently with her thumb going right back between her lips again.

Harry’s sitting at his large oak table, looking like a guilty puppy as his wife comes in with a disapproving look on her face.

“Baby, m’sorr-“

“What the fuck, Harry? Why is our daughter out there terrified right now?” YN demands, crossing her arms to prove her anger.

“Some fuckin’ idiot messed somethin’ up and Ivy walked in while I cursed him out and fired him. She was hiding behind the couch. It was an accident,” He defends, bristling a bit.

“Even if the door was shut, she would have still heard you. You knew better than to act like that around our daughter.”

“I had to fire him,” Harry makes the lame excuse because he knows he’s in the wrong and he’s not always great at admitting he is.

“You were supposed to have Ivy for two hours and this happens. I have her all day everyday and I’ve need had an issue with controlling myself in front of others!” YN yells (quietly) at him.

“What the fuck is tha’ supposed to mean? Y’calling me a bad father? Y’have her all day with her because I work so that you can stay at home with her.”

YN rolls her eyes, “Well thank god for that, she’d be cursing and screaming at people all day everyday if she was with you all the time.”

Harry is thoroughly pissed at his wife and she is equally just as furious with him - it doesn’t happen often but when it does it’s bad.

“Y’got some fuckin’ nerve. Our baby is polite, well-mannered because of me too! Not just you, fuckin’ claiming all her good qualities,” He replies with a snarl.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” YN bites back, “I’m not one of your employees. Neither is Ivy despite you talking like that in front of her.”

Now she was just trying to push his buttons and it was well onto it’s way of working.

“Y’bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous! It was a accident and you’re acting like I did it on purpose! Fuckin’ hell!” He raises his voice in frustration.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are raising your voice at me but I’m leaving,” YN tells him, giving him one final glare before storming out of the office.

“Fuck!” He grunts, smacking cup of pens from his desk before slamming his fist on the desk.

—

Ivy was waiting patiently, whimpering when she sees her mum, and gesturing to be picked up, “It’s past your nap time, Vee.”

“Nap,” She lisps sadly, instantly curling into then familiarness that is her mother. Eyes instantly fluttering shut.

“Thank you, Dor,” YN whispers, blowing her a kiss, before trekking out of the office with the exhausted little girl.

—

Harry can’t handle the rest of the day, wants to go home, and make amends with his wife which leads him to heading out only an hour after them.

He finds YN in the den with the baby monitor propped on the coffee table, she’s watching a horror movie with a smoothie in hand.

“Hi, m’heart,” Harry murmurs cautiously, loosening up his tie until it falls limp around his neck.

She glances over at him, sarcasm lacing her tone,“So you do know how to talk without yelling at me, hmm?”

His face falls, frowning, “Hey, lovie - don’t be like tha’. Y’gonna let me apologize?”

“Come scratch my back and I’ll hear you out,” She hums, keeping a serious face.

“Y’drive a hard bargain, m’heart. Show me y’tits,” Harry begins to smile, striding over and getting her no time before he’s pulling off her shirt and sports bra.

He sits down then gently lays her down on her tummy and she rests her head in his lap, cheek pressed against his thigh.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I wasn’t thinkin’. Now I’m worried she’s gonna hate me forever,” Harry mumbles, using his blunt nails to trace up and down her back.

“You’re her favorite person. She’ll always love you more than anything,” YN tells him seriously, arching when he scratches an extra itchy spot.

“I hope so. I love her more than anythin’. A little mixture of how much we love each other. How much we worked to get her,” He sighs softly.

—

YN dozed off and Harry tucks a blanket around her bare chest.

When the baby monitor alerts that Ivy had woke up after quite a long nap, he takes a deep breath before walking up the staircase to his fate.

He’s preparing himself for her to scream and cry when she sees her monster of a father because he’d scared her so horribly.

But his mini just widens her green eyes and he looks at his world with bated breath, waiting for the scream or tears.

Instead, she just dimples happily at her father, and squeals with excitement, “Daddy! Hi Daddy, miss you!”

And just like that….

They’re best friends again.

—-

Enjoy! Come talk to me!! 💕❣️💕❣️💕❣️

[bloodycassian]

Reader x Azriel - Search and rescue. Reader helps Rhys and Cassian find Azriel after he is captured.

Rhy's wall of power hit you hard enough to strain your wings. The wind whipping at your now exposed face made your eyes sting as you struggled to regain your shield. Cassian and Azriel were falling as well - Rhys the only figure above fighting off the swarming arrows that threatened you.  You tried yelling for Azriel to get back up there, knowing he could winnow past Rhys' shield holding you and Cassian at bay. But he kept falling, his wings unmoving. Cassian had already recovered and was attempting to rush back up to Rhy's side. Horror crept into your stomach, a cold hand clamping down in the pit of your very soul.  You dove, as fast as you could. Your wings screamed at the protesting wind but you cut through the air. you could hear the conflict above as Cassian began shouting at his brother, but you had tunnel vision on Azriel's falling figure as he grew closer. The trees below did as well. Tears from the wind and the horror in front of you as Azriel came closer and closer to death reaching up to him.  Your tunnel vision started to grow black- shading the winged figure from head to toe. Forcing you to blink. You waited to hear the sound of his gasp and the sick thud of impact against the foliage or the ground. But he was gone. Opening your eyes you no longer saw Azriel, or any sign that he had even touched the trees below. There was only the damp brown color of the forest floor. You flared your wings as hard as you could, banking and pulling yourself from the narrow freefall you had sent yourself into.  "Az?!" You shouted, the roaring in your ears making your voice sound dull. You turned, glancing up briefly at the red and dark shadowy flashes above from the swarm of flying beasts sent from enemies. "Azriel!" You called out, worry like a rock in your stomach. Your chest ached.  There was a soft groan and the sound of twigs snapping. You followed it, then scented the damp earthy smell. Then the blood. You rushed to his side. His mouth leaked black blood. You recoiled instantly. His eyes weren't the same, weren't those cold caring hazel.  "Az?" Your voice trembled. The eyes went gray, then sharpened like a snake's eyes. You scrambled backwards when he jolted, spitting blood. You felt the blood run from your face when he stood, his arm bent. His wings... his once beautiful wings were a dull brown, tattered and worn. You wanted to scream. Wanted to run from him.  Then he bared his teeth, his face turning from the familiar spymaster you knew into a monster from the Prison itself. He lunged for you. Teeth clicking, he held no weapon. You fought weakly against him, pushing and rolling him off of you. Tears streamed down your face, you could feel them hot against the cold wind. They dried quickly.  Another deflected attack, and he was snarling. No words came from that half shifted face, only brutal animalistic noise. You choked back sobs as you drew your sword. You held it in a guarding position, hoping it would make the creature think twice before attacking again. "W-where's Azriel?" You managed to get out through chattering teeth. The shock was wearing off. All that coursed through you now was pure adrenaline.  The beast let out a long growl, then struck against your blade. It landed a hit to your stomach and shin, then began attempting to claw at your neck. You reached for the dagger in your belt, keeping the beast at bay as much as you could. Then you let go, letting it fall straight into you and your waiting knife.  + Cassian landed with enough force to shutter the trees around you and the body. Azriels body. Dark looming colors began coloring the area around you, wrapping you in a rage kissed night. Then Rhys appeared in front of you. His brother following behind. Cassian's teeth bared at the sight of you.  You were utterly frozen. The body that lay behind you was not your friends.  Rhys' mental claws dug deep and hot into your mind before you could say anything. You didn't scream, you couldn't.  Cassian went to the monster's side, then confusion pulled at his eyes. His face went pale. "What is this?" He ground out. His voice seemed on the brink of shakiness. Rhys' power trembled in your mind and in the air around.  You only blinked, slowly. Letting the tears fall. "I-" You managed to get through, then the sobs wracked your body. "It's not him." You managed to get out. A crack of thunder above, and Rhy's chest was heaving. Face pale, Cassian lowered himself in front of you, looking you dead in the eye. It made your gut clench to see him so... breakable. So fragile looking.  "Tell me everything." He said softly, those eyes burning with an otherworldly blaze.  + Rhys winnowed the body back to the cells of the Hewn city, appointing Kier and his best medical examiners to learn everything they could about the shifter. And to be weary, in case it awoke again.  He never fully left your mind, even after you had let him see the scene from your memory play out. It annoyed you, but you understood. You searched for Azriel in the basic, most obvious places first. The hopeful places. The house, the Illyrian camps, The docks and markets. Never making too much contact with the Fae there. Never asking too many questions. You felt like Azriel could do a hell of a lot better of a job if he was searching for you. Sorrow hit your gut when you took to the skies with Cassian and Rhys again. They looked to each other, then Cas nodded. He flew high, and fast. Leaving Rhys staring at you with eyes cold enough to make you look away. "Close your eyes." He said, not a question or request. A silent demand ringing through. Your will broke to him, and you followed his instructions.  His presence wasn't as harsh as earlier, but it was more focused. The darkness of his essence was caressing over different areas, inspecting. Questioning. Then, he was gone. Receding like a wave on the shoreline.  When you opened your eyes he was smiling. Only slightly, but he wasn't as pale anymore. Hope filled those starlit eyes. "Call out to him. With your mind. Cast yourself out of your body and find him." He instructed when Cassian had found the most serene lake you'd ever seen.  "I'm not a Daemati Rhys." you said, running a hand through your hair. Nerves pricked at your stomach, making it flip. They both stared at you anxiously, expectantly. You sighed and closed your eyes, trying your best to hear him, to think of the likely places he was. Rhy's darkness glanced against your mind, and you recoiled. He sighed and sat next to you. You could hear his wings tuck in behind him, the soft sound of his hands clasping together. "Not like you're..talking to him. Try to imagine him, feel for his being. To the core of him and feel the pull." His words were soft, testing. He seemed to hold his breath as you considered the words.  Then you let your mind wander. The sounds of the lake, of Cassian's breathing, of Rhys' wringing hands fading into the background. Azriel. The cool smirk that played on his lips when he was amused. The dark fire that set in his eyes when he was in battle. The bone shuddering weight of guilt he held over things that weren't his fault. The misty shadows that stalked him like a pack of wolves.  You gasped when the pull nearly knocked the breath from you. "There." You whipped around, pointing the direction you felt him. You didn't open your eyes, fearing you'd lose the connection. He was pulling, with all his might he was pulling at you. Still strong despite the weakness you felt lingering behind that brute strength he carried. "He's hurt." Your voice trembled. You faintly heard Cassian's growl and the sound of wings.  Azriel's presence was surprisingly warm, along with a stark coolness that made the heat of him shine even brighter. His tendrils of connection were flecked with dark sparks that made it wholly him. His essence wrapped your mind, drinking you in. Sapping the energy from your mind. The last thing you remembered was a soft whisper of tenderness in his wake.  "We need you up, I'm sorry." Rhys pressed a firm hand to your shoulder. You were flying, high above the ocean from the wind current. Your head swam. You squirmed in his arms, twisting until he let you go. Your wings snapped out reluctantly. You winced at the soreness. Rhys was shaking his head when you returned to the same altitude as them. Cassian said nothing, his face stark. You rubbed your face, feeling utterly drained still. The cold air forced you more and more awake with each moment. "He's alive. We just need you to feel for him again." Rhys said over the wind. Cassian glanced over to you, his hair whipping in the wind. His jaw was set, but his eyes couldn't hold back that tortured look he had.  You weakly raised a mental hand, tentatively out to that new stretch of bridge that opened to Az's cool desert of wind and ghosts. He seemed to wrap those sparkling shadows around your fingers, a small, hesitant tug in the direction you were flying. "A bit east. On land." You said quietly. You focused on him, on that soft silk that petted your fingers, as if he was tracing you with his mind.  "An island. He's alone now...I think." You said, nodding. His mentality seemed too relaxed to be with anyone.  "You think-" Cassian huffed, shaking his head. Rhys shot him a cold look but said nothing, letting you lead the way to where their brother was kept.  You followed that bond to a cliffside looking over the ocean far below. Precarious, and dangerously elegant. The shadows fluttered over your mind at the sight of it. You smiled to yourself. "He's here." You said softly, trying to keep your voice from breaking.  The castle seemed completely empty. If it wasnt for those encouraging tugs whenever you turned a corner that led the right way, you would have left the abandoned place alone. The wet sounds of the dripping dungeon made your bones chill. The temperature dropped and dropped with each step down. Cassian cursed softly to himself once you finally reached the bottom together. Rhys had every guard knocked down in a second. The fire they huddled around didnt sputter. He was clean and efficient.  "Find him." He ordered, eyes wide in the low firelight. You nodded and closed your eyes. The tug was closer, but weaker. Your heart picked up. Letting your gut lead you, you went to the cell. Your eyes stung with tears at the sight of him. Cassian ripped the iron door free of its hinges and you followed inside behind him. Rhys was already there, inspecting his brothers wounds.  Cassian broke the end of the ash arrow out of Az's wing and went for his water. Azriel drank greedily while Rhys held him up. His dull eyes flashed to you, then they fluttered. A small smile lit his pale face. "Mine. You found me." He managed before passing out. The other two Illyrians stared at you in surprise. Your eyes didnt leave the shadow singer's face. "I-" you stammered, head whirring with the words he spoke. "Azriel-" You reached to touch him but Cassian caught your wrist. "He needs a healer." He said softly, straight to the point. You nodded, and he let your hand go. Your fingers trembled.  They carried him together back up flight after flight of stairs. You couldnt stop staring at how his face seemed to pinch in pain with every step. Your heart pounded with a protective urge with every step.

[volterran-wine]

Relationship Headcanons || Santiago

“We never realize how frozen we are until someone starts to melt our ice. ” ― Bridgett Devoue

Requested by Anonymous: “Relationship headcanons for Santiago? I love your blog -🔮”

Good afternoon dear CrystalBall!Anon, !finally! darling Santiago will get his chance to shine on this blog. Congratulations on being the first to request headcanons for this wonderful man, though many have come after you and demanded the same type of headcanons. Hopefully the wait was worth it and this will be enough to quench all of my followers thirst for Santiago.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

Now, Santiago joined The Volturi back in 1856 and is in fact head of the transitionary guard. While he does not have a fixed position within the coven he cannot see himself leaving anytime soon. Over the years he has developed bonds of friendship and family when it comes to certain members. While Santiago enjoyed the nomadic life he had back in Brazil, nothing can beat some of the crazy missions Caius has dragged him along for.

Santiago through the ages had always been a bit of a playboy, never truly committing to one person. He enjoyed that life, feeling at peace with his existence and the opportunities The Volturi offered him. Well, that was until a coven came to Volterra for a surprise visit; having recently added a new member they wanted to introduce to the kings. Santiago had been on guard duty that day, and the feeling in his chest had been uncomfortable to say the least. And the expression on his face must have been quite hilarious for the composed Afton ended up breaking out into loud laughter, having to excuse himself while his best friend was caught in a staring match with this newborn vampire that apparently could be his mate. Just his luck.

In truth Santiago had never quite anticipated the pull to ever happen to him, at least not so early. After all he was serving with vampires over a thousand years old and they had yet to meet the person they wanted to spend the rest of eternity with, let alone felt the mysterious mate pull. He would probably go to the king he feels closest too, Caius, in order to talk through his feelings about the turbulent situation. After a couple of cups with the kings strongest blood-wine and some good natured teasing Santiago ends up feeling much more calm. With a not so light shove did the king nudge Santiago in the direction of his potential mates room, and that was pretty much how the courtship began.

"... Have you been drinking?" "Perhaps, but the bigger question is if you want to go out with me?... that's what they say nowadays right?" "... well yes-" "Great! I'll see you tomorrow at 7... in the evening of course... Okay bye!" "... Goodbye?"

The courtship was a whirlwind of the most outlandish dates that Santiago could come up with. In the end they simply returned from one of their outings, Santiago's arm slung over his mates shoulders as they entered the recreation room; the head of the transitionary guard yelling out how he had snagged the most wonderful mate in the world to thunderous applause and catcalls from his fellow guards. The Volturi's biggest flirt was now off the market.

The very first time Santiago introduced his mate to his best friends Afton and Corin things got a little bit out of hand. This primarily was Afton's fault because he dared Corin to attempt seducing Santiago's significant other; while it was funny to begin with the two of them actually ended up being quite compatible. The rest of the evening was pretty much spent being obsessed with one another and becoming close friends right away.

"... Afton I think I just lost my mate because of you." "THAT is NOT my fault, Corin quit the act hours ago. Now they are just genuinely becoming best friends." "... I still blame you." "... Fine I'll take on your trial duties that I'm not apart of" "Thanks brother."

Santiago's favourite date activity is going hunting with his mate. He will make sure they have time off for the night and go on the prowl for the most delectable meal they can find within the borders of Italy. Seeing his mate in their element like that just makes him love and adore them even more.

While not being a fixed guard Santiago does have quite a lot of duties to attend to, but he tries as best as he can to at least dedicate one night a week to spend it entirely with his mate doing something fun together just the two of them. It might involve leaving the Palazzo and spending the night in Firenze or a nice evening within their shared quarters.

Santiago is also quite a protective mate, anyone who dares step up to his significant other in a threatening manner will find themselves on their ass within seconds, ... or perhaps without a head if I'm going to be honest.

PDA: Santiago is especially physically affectionate towards his mate, his primary love language is Physical Affection. So, unless his beloved is highly against this sort of attention he will be kissing them and touching them every chance he gets. Will not care about how public the venue might be either.

Terms of endearment Santiago would use: Babe, Bebé, Querido/Querida (Brazilian Portuguese for Dear), Xuxu (A Brazilian Portuguese term of endearment). Santiago is also quite fond of funny nicknames, usually the kinds that can get him in trouble.

Despite having a rather tough and laidback exterior I believe Santiago would be eternally grateful for finally finding a soft place to rest at the end of the day. Glad that he has found someone he feels safe enough with to be vulnerable.

There would never be a dull moment with Santiago as your mate, an eternity of love and laughter.

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year. 

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center. 

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour. 

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex. 

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack. 

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen. 

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus. 

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little. 

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks. 

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks. 

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough. 

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon. 

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly. 

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol. 

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well. 

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater. 

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile. 

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration. 

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties. 

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost. 

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking. 

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session. 

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. 

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies. 

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended. 

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology. 

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean. 

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired. 

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!” 

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study. 

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble. 

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student. 

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it. 

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale. 

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now. 

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown. 

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier. 

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table. 

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed. 

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah. 

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli. 

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to. 

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth. 

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check. 

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes. 

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years. 

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door. 

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is. 

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life. 

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do. 

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine. 

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you. 

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison. 

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask. 

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades. 

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks. 

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway. 

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo. 

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion. 

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it. 

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center. 

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post. 

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth. 

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch. 

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off. 

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep. 

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity. 

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side. 

God. 

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end. 

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Sighing, you pick up. 

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you. 

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly. 

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them. 

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you. 

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday. 

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts. 

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud. 

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing. 

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans. 

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them. 

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests. 

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you. 

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not. 

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin. 

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer. 

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet. 

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting. 

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different. 

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place. 

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door. 

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true. 

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight. 

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance. 

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why. 

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters. 

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with. 

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once. 

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not. 

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door. 

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense. 

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did. 

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster. 

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure. 

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him. 

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it. 

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores. 

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him. 

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it. 

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay. 

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. 

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him. 

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink. 

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you. 

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason. 

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away. 

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot. 

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough. 

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway. 

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone. 

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life. 

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there. 

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments. 

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her. 

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say. 

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire. 

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business. 

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents. 

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner. 

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive. 

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him. 

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen. 

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner. 

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun. 

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot. 

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach. 

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide. 

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back. 

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns. 

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook. 

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.” 

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on. 

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook. 

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all. 

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you. 

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either. 

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other. 

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[thewildwaffle]

Humans are Weird - Birthdays

Another prompt from a lovely user on ao3

When humans throw a party, they don’t mess around. Or well, they do, that’s like half the point of their parties most of the time. What they don’t mess around with is the planning, preparation, and all-out general excitement and energy that goes into their parties. Scarsels, they'd only gotten halfway through the setup and decorating for Human Dana’s party and it seemed like it would be almost as much fun as the party itself! The special occasion this time was to commemorate the anniversary of Human Dana’s birth. When Peterrias was first told about the party plans, he'd been a bit blown away by just how much of everything there was. His people celebrated the anniversary of their hatching day, sure, but it was usually more of a happy acknowledgment of the day itself and of the life lived to that point rather than a formal festivity. Excited to be a part of such an important Earth culture custom, he had volunteered to help get things set up. There was a lot more that went into a human birthday party than he realized. At first, he'd gone with Human Jackson to help make the refreshments and treats that would be available to guests. He'd spent a little bit of time cutting up fresh vegetables that were edible for everyone on the crew to eat and arrange them on a colorful platter. That didn’t take long to do, but by the time he had it done, all the food preparation tasks that involved working with “safe” ingredients had already been taken. Not wanting to be in the way of preparations there, Peterias had wandered back to the main rec hall where the party decorations were at that point well underway. The humans had requisitioned party supplies the last time they’d stopped in a port with a half-decent market. Earth wares, as popular as they’ve become, were pretty easy to find, even very specific items like balloons, streamers, and a large pack of funny-looking conical hats.

Garubi sefra and human Jieun were setting up the streamers now. They twisted the thin strips of colorful paper into beautiful, swirling, drapes that swept from one side of the room to the other. He paused to take in the sight for a moment. There was something familiar about it all, but he couldn’t figure out why. Anyway, it was a lovely scene. Humans really did go all out. Or maybe this was just a good outlet for them to vent any pent-up creativity and partying they’d been holding in for the past few partecs aboard the ship. He suspected a combination of both. “Is there anything I can do to help here,” he approached the decorators. Human Jieun was having to climb up and down a step ladder to reach high enough to place the streamers. Peterias was one of the few crewmates aboard that stood taller than humans. That with his long arms and great reach, this seemed like the perfect job for him. With a little explanation, a few hijinks that went on while figuring out how to not get the tape to stick to him, he had the entire hall “decked out” as Jieun declared. There was still about half a roll of the decorative paper leftover. He watched it as he bounced it in his hand, smiling as it dawned on him why it looked so familiar to him. It looked just like a popular candy he enjoyed when he was a young hatchling. Wouldn’t it just be like humans to use pretty sweets as decorations? He had to admit, it was kind of a fun idea to multitask like that. Making sure no one was watching, he snuck a tentative nibble at the paper. It was absolutely disgusting. Definitely not a sweet ribbon! Oh, by the stars, it was so bitter! “Did you just try eating the crepe paper?” Jieun clapped a hand on Peterias’ shoulder as he came up from behind. “I’d guess from your face that it wasn’t very good!” “Pleah! Pleh… I… uh, you… you saw that?” He figured Jieun’s laughter was enough affirmation. “To be fair,” Garubi came to Peterias’ aide, “when I first saw the streamers, I thought they looked like large rolls of sweet ribbon as well.” Jieun’s smile remained as large as ever. “Yeah, but you didn’t try eating it!” Garubi took the remainder of the streamer roll from Peterias and went to put it away. “Not when you were looking,” Peterias heard the sefra mutter quietly before he got too far. Even though the room was already looking very festive, humans do not mess around when it comes to throwing parties. He helped Jieun and a few others set up some games and activities for the party. Once again, many hands might light work and the only thing left to do, so Jieun said, was blow up a few more balloons. “Thanks for helping set up though, I really do appreciate it. Dana’s going to love this! She has no idea we’ve got this planned, I can’t wait to see the look on her face!” “Glad to be included in such an important celebration of life,” Peterias closed his eyes and nodded to return for Jieun’s smile. “I am also very excited about the party. If I may ask, do you know how many years Dana is marking today?” “Uh, well, she’s turning thirty-seven in Earth years. I’d have to do the math to convert that to galactic standardized. I know doing that would make it a fraction of some sort.” Peterias tilted his head trying to recall what he knew about Earth. Their day cycles fell into an average length among inhabited homeworlds. The way they divided their days was a little funny but close enough that many humans had no problem converting to galactic standardized times. Years though, years seemed a little long to him, though he couldn’t remember the conversion rate right at the moment. Still, even if they weren’t too far off of GS time, thirty-seven was quite the number! He hadn’t realized Dana was a senior citizen! “That’s amazing,” Peterias’ voice was excited but respectful. “Do you think she’ll stay on the crew much longer then?” “Uh, yeah, I mean I don’t know what she’s planning, but I’d think so. I mean, why wouldn’t she?” “Well,” Peterias wasn’t completely sure how best to say this without sounding offensive or rude. He’d heard humans could be touchy about their ages later on in life. “Won’t she… won’t she want to retire soon?” Half of Jieun’s face scrunched up to make a funny expression. “Retire? Why would she want to do that?” “Um, well, you know… as most species age, they find this line of work to start becoming… uh, well a bit too demanding on… uh… elderly bodies?” Jieun stared at him without saying anything that Peterias started worrying that he had broken some human taboo about talking about getting old. “Dude. Dana’s turning thirty-seven, not eighty-seven. And even if she was, I still don’t think she’d retire. Have you seen her on duty? That lady loves blasting asteroids.” Jieun chuckled as if recalling a memory as he grabbed a rubber balloon and began forcing air into it through his mouth. As Peterias watched the blue shape grow in size, something Jieun said finally clicked. “Wait, eighty-seven? Do humans live that long?!” Jieun removed the balloon from his lips and tied the end so the air wouldn’t escape. “Well, I mean, with proper diet and exercise, a bit of good luck and good genes, yeah. I mean nowadays, it’s not too crazy to see people living and even being fairly active into their hundreds.” “What?!” Jieun had to be joking. Humans loved playing practical jokes. He kept waiting for his crewmate’s face to break into a wide grin and laugh at his attempt to “pull his leg” as the human saying went. As the tiks went by though, Jieun didn’t back down from his bold statement and instead started blowing up another balloon. “Oh,” Peterias shook his head. “Oh how silly of me. I forgot about the year ratio. Earth must circumnavigate it’s star fairly quickly. There for a bit, I thought you were saying humans could live for over 100 galactic standard years.” Jieun opened his mouth and let the half-filled balloon propel itself around the room wildly. “Uh, yeah, we can. Easily. I think the ratio is like, uh just a little over two-thirds of an Earth year for every galactic standardized year. Something like that? If we’re talking SG years, 130 is around the average life expectancy. 180’s getting up there. I think the oldest living human right now is pushing 195 SG years or something like that.” Shivers ran down Peterias’ whole body. He felt the proto-feathers along his spine rise up. He felt like he was frozen in place as his brain used 100% of its capacity to try to process what he’d just been told. There was no way. He’d have known about this before, right? Of all the rumors that flew around about humans, this would have been one of them, right? He kept waiting for a punchline, for Jieun’s nonchalant facade to drop and for him to start laughing at the hilarious joke he’d been trying to get Peterias to believe. But it didn’t happen. He wasn’t joking. Instead, Jieun held out his hand. “Let me see, I guess that would make Dana....” His fingers went up and down as he calculated, “Oh, a little over sixty I guess. In SG, that is.” He then went to retrieve the balloon he’d let escape before and proceeded to blow it up again, tying it off this time. Peterias just stood there, still frozen. He watched the human continue to put the final touches of decorations around the room. How old was Jieun? He saw human Jackson enter the room, being helped by several other crewmates as they carried in platters of prepared party snacks. How old was he? How old were any of the other human crewmates aboard the ship? How much had they seen and how much life had they lived even before they stepped aboard the ship? He was finally pulled out of his frozen state as everyone scrambled to hiding spots. Realizing he was still standing in the middle of the room, Garubi came up behind him and led him to a spot where he could crouch behind a chair. “Come on, they said part of the celebration is to jump out and surprise the birthday celebrant when they arrive at their party.” Peterias allowed themselves to be pulled along and even made sure to tuck their tail in closely so as to hide better behind the chair. It was futile, he was too large, but thinking on that right now seemed beyond his capabilities. Dana was indeed surprised when she arrived. She screamed, out of shock at first, then in delight. There was a lot of laughter, music, and talking, and a surprising amount of very bad, off-key singing to a very repetitive song. It felt almost like visiting a harvest festival back home, so happy and celebratory! Except unlike the festivals, this was for one person. Before, it might have seemed a bit excessive, even by human standards. Now he realized that with this celebration of life, there was a lot of life to celebrate. The planning and preparation that had gone into the party was well worth the effort. Peterias hadn’t had as much fun in some time. It wasn’t any one particular game they played or amusing story that was told that made it so much fun. It was more just, how happy everyone was. The humans, especially Dana, just seemed to radiate a warm happy energy that was particularly infectious. Peterias smiled as he watched Jackson get animated as he recounted an adventure he’d had as a youth on Earth. It was, of course, a story about him doing something dangerous and how he got out of it, and he had several delighted crewmates hanging onto every word. Peterias, chuckled as a thought came to him while watching the scene. Humans live such long lives. He’d had no idea. He supposed that some, after hearing Jackson’s story and knowing what ridiculous antics humans got into on the regular, might postulate that humans live so long because death itself is hesitant to claim them. As he looked around the room though, he caught eyes with human Dana who smiled that strange warm, and slightly scary way that humans do. She held up her hands together to form a shape that he’d been told was a symbol of love and mouthed the words “thank you” to him. Peterias nodded and smiled back. His mind started wandering again. Somewhere in his brain, the new information of human’s life spans was being put together with other tales and warnings he’d ever heard about them like puzzle pieces. That’s why everyone’s always worried about offending humans. They have such long lives that they could hold grudges for what would be lifetimes for other races. That’s why they’re so good at multitasking or will often come onto crews with multiple advanced skills. They have plenty of time to hone their talents. That’s why they can be so forgetful at times. They have a lot of life stored in their memories. There was a large collection of gasps and laughter from the crowd around Jackson as he finished up his story. Soon, Dana took over as the next storyteller about one of her own fool-hardy enterprises she’d had once. It wasn’t quite as much of an adventurous tale as Jackson’s had been, but it was a good story and she told it well. Peterias smiled as he listened in. He was glad humans lived so long, for a lot of reasons. Maybe those who half-joked when they said that death was afraid to claim humans were right. They certainly were a handful in the realm of life, they’d probably continue to be a handful in the realm beyond. In any case, whatever the reason may be, he was glad he’d have his friends around for a long time.

[joshslater]

Delayed Graduation

This is a repost since the original story got banned for unclear reasons. The previous image was totally innocent photo of a guy in wrestling attire. Let’s try with a different one (without updating the story). Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

- We might have a solution of sorts for you.

I barely registered principal Johnston talking. My world had been shattered, without warning. It all felt unreal, and most of all unfair. I know I hadn’t done anything wrong, but there were no witnesses, just my word against hers. She wouldn’t press charges, Johnston had explained. I was almost demanding that she did, so I could clear my name, but thought better of it. If it went to trial all outcomes would be bad, to varying degrees. This way I would just be expelled. I guess I could use the term “drop out” to soften it further. It’s not like the job market is stellar even if you have a degree, but this would firmly pigeon hole me as manual labor.

- What? - I said we might have an arrangement that could interest you.

He pulled out a stack of papers from his manila folder and placed them in front of me, and continued.

- We have a little trial project we would like to push ahead with, to see what the full potential is. Coach Andrews would personally take charge of your training to see how far he can take you in a year. Similar to what he managed to do for Shane O’Brian. Since you will be heavily supervised, fully scheduled and not share any classes with your former class mates, she has agreed to allow you complete your studies under these conditions. It’s not that many months until she graduates anyway. Your graduation obviously will have to wait until next year.

Shane of course was the star of the basket team. He was two years below me, so I didn’t know him, but I heard he had basically never touched a ball before he met coach. He must have been active in something else though, with that body. The girls were swooning like crazy. Some of the boys too, as rumor had it.

- Sir, I’m really grateful for this opportunity, but I’m not really made for sports. Just look at me. Tall and thin. Not much track and field around here. - We are not asking for any miracles. Just follow all instructions given and do your best. That’s all we’re asking.

I started to flip through the papers. I was bored just looking at the page numbers.

- Should I bring this home to my parents? - This is a bit time sensitive, so I’d prefer if you make your decision already today. You’re 18. You get to decide this on your own. Why don’t I leave you for a bit? You can have a read through, and then decide what you want to do.

As he left the room I started to go read through the contract properly. Why do they make things so complicated? The contract really just said that I assumed responsibility for the “infraction”, but the school would not disclose it to anyone unless the contract was breached. I would agree to participate in the athletic education study for one year. In return the school would allow me to graduate next year. But written over 26 pages.

I didn’t feel like I had many options. Initials on every page and signature on the last. Then repeated on the second copy of the contract. I was about to leave and find principal Johnston when he returned, followed by coach Andrews.

- Have you made up your mind, or would you like Mr. Andrews to explain it in more detail. - I’ve already signed the papers. - Oh, well then. I’m so happy we could work something out.

Coach Andrews opened the gym bag he was carrying and pulled out a blue singlet and ear guards, and held them for me to take.

- Let’s try this on right away. - Now? Here?

Johnston opened a door to a side room of his office.

- You can change in the conference room here. - But wrestling?! Have you seen me? - As I said, follow all instructions and do your best is all we ask.

It was the first time I even held a singlet in my hands. I’ve never even thought of how to put one on. It wasn’t hard, just step in them like some shorts and then pull the straps over your shoulders, but I never imagined doing it.

I looked ridiculous. I guess size isn’t as important when the fabric is stretchy, but this sure wasn’t my size. The taut straps pulled the fabric in the groin, while at the same time my thin legs didn’t fill out the legs of the singlet. What a mess. I walked back into the office, naked apart from this one single piece of clothing.

- Should I put on the ear guards as well. - No, that isn’t necessary. Here.

Coach opened a small, brown, glass bottle and poured its contents into a white plastic cup from the water cooler, and handed it to me.

- This is the time sensitive part. Drink up.

This day was going from horrendously bad to confusing to weird. I emptied the cup. The liquid tasted like cough syrup. Sickly sweet and with bitter herbs.

- What is.. *cough* *cough* - Here. Take a seat.

It felt like drinking really hot cocoa when you are frozen. It kind of spreads from the chest to the rest of the body. All of me was getting warm, and an uncomfortable feeling or pressure. Everything was off, like I was drunk, or high or something. It was over in a minute, though it is quite possible my mind was playing tricks and it really was longer than that.

- Stand up against the wall, so I can take a photo.

Bewildered, and with unsteady steps, I did as told. He snapped a few pictures with his phone, and then showed me one.

- Don’t tell me this isn’t a great starting point.

I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was definitely me in the photo, but it was like the aspect ratio was wrong. I must be several inches shorter, but everything, arms, legs, chest, shoulders, neck, was wider. Even my face was altered, if ever so slightly. Where just minutes before, or whatever, I was a lanky gamer, I now was a hunk of muscle.

- How is this... - Don’t worry about the details. We must work quickly now while you are fresh, to get the wrestling technique right. Meet me in my office tomorrow at 7 am.

With that he slapped me on the shoulder and left. Just as he was about to exit the office, he pulled out a pair of shoes from the bag and placed them at a table.

- Oh, I almost forgot these. Your new size. See you tomorrow!

My head was spinning. What had just happened to me, to my body? Starting point? Principal Johnston had his distinct “anything else?” look.

- What about my studies?

My voice was lower than before, I think.

- You’ll be placed in the athlete’s reduced curriculum class. We just need to retest your proficiency levels first. - Why? I don’t understand. - My point exactly.

He didn’t make any sense. I felt tired, slow and almost dizzy trying to understand him.

- What about this body? What happens when I graduate? - You graduate with the body you have, like everyone else. It’s not like we can change it by magic or anything.

He smiled and chuckled to himself.

- Take your old clothes with you as you leave. Something might still fit.

It didn’t.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Experian doxes the world (again)

The nonconsensually compiled dossiers of personal information that Experian assembled on the entire population of the USA may currently be exposed via dozens, perhaps hundreds, of sites, thanks to a grossly negligent security defect in Experian's API.

The breach was detected by Bill Demirkapi, a security researcher and RIT sophomore, and reported on by Brian Krebs, the excellent independent security reporter.

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2021/04/experian-api-exposed-credit-scores-of-most-americans/

Experian, like Equifax, has unilaterally arrogated to itself the right to collect, store and disseminate our personal information, and, like Equifax, it faces little regulation, including obligations not to harm us or penalties when it does.

Experian's API allows criminals to retrieve your credit info by supplying your name and address, information that is typically easy to find, especially in the wake of multiple other breaches, such as Doordash's 5m-person 2019 breach and Drizzly's 2.5m-person 2020 breach.

Demirkapi explains that the API is implemented by many, many sites across the internet, and while Experian assured Krebs that this bug only affected a single site, it did not explain how it came to that conclusion.

Demirkapi discovered the defect while he was searching for a student loan vendor. There is a way to defend yourself against this attack: freeze your credit report. Credit freezes were made free (but opt-in only) in 2018, after the Equifax breach.

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2018/09/credit-freezes-are-free-let-the-ice-age-begin/

Indeed, you may have already been thinking about the Equifax breach as you read this. In many ways, that breach was a wasted opportunity to seriously re-examine the indefensible practices of the credit-reporting industry, which had not been seriously scrutinized since 1976.

1976 was the year that Congress amended the Equal Credit Opportunity Act after hearing testimony about the abuses of the Retail Credit Company - a company that swiftly changed its name to "Equifax" to distance itself from the damning facts those hearings brought to light.

Retail Credit/Equifax invented credit reporting when it was founded in Atlanta in 1899. For more than half a century, it served as a free market Stasi to whom neighbors could quietly report each other for violating social norms.

Retail Credit's permanent, secret files recorded who was suspected of being gay, a "race-mixer" or a political dissident so that banks and insurance companies could discriminate against them.

https://www.jacobinmag.com/2017/09/equifax-retail-credit-company-discrimination-loans

This practice was only curbed when a coalition of white, straight conservative men discovered that they'd been misidentified as queers and commies and demanded action, whereupon Congress gave Americans limited rights to see and contest their secret files.

But these controls were never more than symbolic. Congress couldn't truly blunt the power of these private-sector spooks, because the US government depends on them to determine eligibility for Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid.

It's a public-private partnership from hell. Credit reporting bureaux collect data the government is not legally allowed to collect on its own, then sells that data to the government (Equifax makes $200m/year doing this).

https://web.archive.org/web/20171004200823/http://www.cetusnews.com/business/Equifax-Work-for-Government-Shows-Company%E2%80%99s-Broad-Reach.HkexS6JAq-.html

These millions are recycled into lobbying efforts to ensure that the credit reporting bureaux can continue to spy on us, smear us, and recklessly endanger us by failing to safeguard the files they assemble on us.

This is bad for America, but it's great for the credit reporting industry. The Big Three bureaux (Equifax, Experian and Transunion) have been on a decade-long buying spree, gobbling up hundreds of smaller companies.

These acquisitions lead directly to breaches: a Big Three company that buys a startup inherits its baling-wire-and-spit IT system, built in haste while the company pursued growth and acquisition.

These IT systems have to be tied into the giant acquiring company's own databases, adding to the dozens of other systems that have been cobbled together from previous acquisitions.

This became painfully apparent after the Equifax breach, so much so that even GOP Congressional Committee chairs called the breach "entirely preventable" and the result of "aggressive growth." But they refused to put any curbs on future acquisitions.

https://thehill.com/policy/technology/420582-house-panel-issues-scathing-report-on-entirely-preventable-equifax-data

A lot has happened since Equifax, so you may have forgotten just how fucked up that situation was. Equifax's IT was so chaotic that they couldn't even encrypt the data they'd installed. Two months later, they "weren't sure" if it had been encrypted.

https://searchsecurity.techtarget.com/news/450429891/Following-Equifax-breach-CEO-doesnt-know-if-data-is-encrypted

*Six months* before the breach, outside experts began warning Equifax that they were exposing our data:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/ne3bv7/equifax-breach-social-security-numbers-researcher-warning

The *only* action Equifax execs took? They sold off a shit-ton of stock:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-03-14/sec-says-former-equifax-executive-engaged-in-insider-trading

The Equifax breach exposed the arrogance and impunity of the Big Three. Afterward, Equifax offered "free" credit monitoring to the people they'd harmed. One catch: it was free for a year; after that, they'd automatically bill you, annually, forever.

https://web.archive.org/web/20170911025943/https://therealnews.com/t2/story:19960:Equifax-Data-Breach-is-a-10-out-of-10-Scandal

And you'd pay in another way if you signed up for that "free" service: the fine print took away your right to sue Equifax, forever, no matter how they harmed you:

https://www.ibtimes.com/political-capital/equifax-lobbied-kill-rule-protecting-victims-data-breaches-2587929

The credit bureaux bill themselves as arbiters of the public's ability to take responsibility for their choices, but after the breach, the CEO blamed the entire affair on a single "forgetful" flunky:

https://www.engadget.com/2017-10-03-former-equifax-ceo-blames-breach-on-one-it-employee.html

Then he stepped down and pocketed a $90m salary that his board voted in favor of:

https://fortune.com/2017/09/26/equifax-ceo-richard-smith-net-worth/

Of course they did! His actions made the company so big that even after the breach, the IRS  picked it to run its anti-fraud. Equifax got $7.5m from Uncle Sucker, and would have kept it except that its anti-fraud site was *serving malware*:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/equifax-irs-data-breach-malware-discovered/

Equifax eventually settled all the claims against it for $700m in 2019:

https://nypost.com/2019/07/19/equifax-agrees-to-pay-700m-after-massive-data-breach/

But it continued to average five errors per credit report:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2019/02/11/rep-alexandria-ocasio-cortez-takes-aim-equifax-credit-scoring/

And it continued to store sensitive user-data in an unencrypted database whose login and password were "admin" and "admin":

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/equifax-password-username-admin-lawsuit-201118316.html

Congress introduced multiple bills to force Equifax, Experian and Transunion to clean up their act.

None of those bills passed.

https://www.axios.com/after-equifaxs-mega-breach-nothing-changed-1536241622-baf8e0cf-d727-43db-b4d4-77c7599fff1e.html

The IRS shrugged its shoulders at America, telling the victims of Equifax's breach that their information had probably already leaked before Equifax doxed them, so no biggie:

https://thehill.com/policy/cybersecurity/355862-irs-significant-number-of-equifax-victims-already-had-info-accessed-by

Since then there have been other mass breaches, most recently the Facebook breach that exposed 500m people's sensitive data. That data can be merged with data from other breaches and even from "anonymized" data-sets that were deliberately released:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/21/re-identification/#pseudonymity

And while you can theoretically prevent your data from being stolen using the current Experian vulnerability by freezing your account, that's not as secure as it sounds.

Back in 2017, Brian Krebs reported that Experian's services were so insecure that anyone could retreive the PIN to unlock a frozen credit report by ticking a box on a website:

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2017/09/experian-site-can-give-anyone-your-credit-freeze-pin/

That was just table-stakes - it turned out that ALL the credit bureaux had an arrangement with AT&T's telecoms credit agency that was so insecure that *anyone* could unlock your locked credit report:

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2018/05/another-credit-freeze-target-nctue-com/

These companies came into existence to spy on Americans in order to facilitate mass-scale, racist, ideological and sexual discrimination. They gather data of enormous import and sensitivity - data no one should be gathering, much less retaining and sharing.

They handle this data in cavalier ways, secure in the knowledge that their integration with the US government wins them powerful stakeholders who will ensure that the penalties for the harm they inflict add up to less than profits those harms generate for their shareholders.

This is why America needs a federal privacy law with a "private right of action" - the ability to sue companies that harm you, rather than hoping that federal prosecutors or regulators will decide to enforce the law.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/16/where-it-hurts/#sue-facebook

Experian promises that this breach only affects one company that mis-implemented its API. We would be suckers to take it at its word. It didn't know about this breach until a college sophomore sent in a bug report - how would it know if there were others?

Image: KC Green (modified) https://kcgreendotcom.com/

[pleathewrites]

Candles in the Sun

chapter 1: the one who drives all evil away

When Ryomen Sukuna was born, the ground shook.

A weeping mother cradles her baby in her weak arms. The sweat cools off her skin with the gusts of rain-scented wind pushing past an open window. Her baby’s heart beats - she can feel it through the pads of her fingers - and she sighs.

Her eyes do not betray her.

She looks at her child and begs the Gods for mercy to be given - for this world to treat her child as kindly as she vows to because she cannot feel anything but infinite gratitude as her baby looks up at her with bright, red eyes.

Both sets.

Her child has been born with a gift - the blessing of 4 eyes and 4 arms.

*

When Itadori Yuuji is born, his first breath matches the last of his mother’s.

A weeping father holds his daughter’s baby to his chest and begs for the Gods to bring her back.

His prayers are futile, as his daughter’s unblinking eyes remain downward towards her belly, awaiting the arrival of a child she never got the chance to hold.

With the tips of his fingers, using the gentlest pressure, he lowers his daughter’s eyelids and lets her rest.

Her baby cries.

He prays for the strength to give this child the same love and protection he had for his own. He feels the ache in his chest, lungs rattling with every inhale.

He begs his body not to give up on him.

*

It’s an odd feeling, Sukuna’s mouth stretching over his cheek.

He was in the middle of packing up the extra things that had been left behind in his move to Jujutsu High when he had stumbled across the frame that had used to stand upright on his grandfather’s dresser.

“Oh, is that a baby picture? Let me see,” Yuuji feels the words before he hears them.

His knee-jerk reaction is usually to deny the curse, for whatever he’s asking.

“What, no -”

“Let me see or I won’t leave you alone this whole day,” The King of Curses demands, rather childishly.

Yuuji sometimes forgets this guy is supposed to be a thousand years old.

He stares at the picture between his fingers. It’s a capture of one of his earliest memories, a blurry thing that Yuuji only really has random flashes of. He doesn’t remember what the occasion was, but he remembers the exhibit of huge dinosaur fossils and the vibrant green of grass against a rough picnic blanket. He doesn’t remember what they ate for that lunch, but he remembers his grandfather asking an elderly to take a picture of them in front of the museum entrance.

This maybe-five-year-old Yuuji has his mouth open in laughter while his grandfather swings him up to sit on the concrete pillar of a staircase.

His heart mourns.

Sukuna starts to let out whining noises that pull irritatingly at the skin under Yuuji’s eyes. Yuuji grumbles and holds the photo up for the curse’s eye to see.

Sukuna lets out a coo, “You were so cute. Fat,” and just when Yuuji feels the side of his lips tilt up in a smile at the comment, Sukuna continues, “You’re so ugly now.”

Yuuji squawks, “Fuck you!” and slaps his hand over the offending mouth.

The sting against his cheek lingers, though the curse does not.

*

Sukuna is five years old the first time he levitates.

The boy had stomped into his house with muddy shoes, and his mother had asked him to take a bath. He said he didn’t want to. She told him to take one anyways.

He screamed.

And the next thing they both knew, he was 5 feet above the ground, his feet dangling uselessly beneath him, and the tips of his shoulder-length hair brushing the ceiling of their home.

He sees his mother’s eyes widen, and his own breath stutters in the childish fear that maybe he’s doing something bad, and just when he’s about to try and return to the ground, the expression on his mother’s face changes.

She’s laughing.

The first laugh is blurted shock, the second disbelief, and the rest are consistent peals of happy - proud - laughter.

On that day onward, Sukuna’s mother discovered her son’s curse energy bleeds into his temper tantrums.

*

Fushiguro Megumi makes Yuuji’s soul wiggle, Sukuna observes.

The first time Sukuna notices, they’re in an abandoned school and the brat is about to get himself killed by a Special Grade curse that Sukuna could pulverize with a flick of his finger.

He tells Yuuji as so, tells the boy that he could easily help him out, but that he won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in the way.

Sukuna’s no hero, after all.

When Itadori Yuuji tells Fushiguro Megumi to run away, the energy of Yuuji’s soul seeps into Sukuna’s domain and messes with the physics of the place - and for a split second, Sukuna feels breathless.

Sukuna smiles, ‘Could it be?’

After defeating the Special Grade, Sukuna decides to test something out.

He beats Megumi within an inch of his life, and when he has the boy’s full attention, he rips Itadori Yuuji’s heart straight out of his chest.

Megumi's soul cries.

Sukuna lets out a manic laugh, ‘So it’s true.’

His plan will succeed.

However, when Megumi begins to speak, he foolishly speaks directly to Yuuji about why he had saved him and Sukuna feels the same watery jolt of the brat’s soul and he is immediately sucked back into his Innate Domain.

*

Sukuna burrows further into his cloak as he rummages through the village market.

He huffs.

He hates the townspeople. They always gasp at the sight of his arms and chase him away with their brooms.

But his mother grows weaker every harvest, and the walk from the mountain to the village center takes her nearly half a sun cycle, whereas Sukuna can make the trip in a third of that time.

He tries to recall what was written on his mother’s list when he’s pushed roughly from behind, a gust of wind and scrape of cotton breezing through his side. When he regains his balance, he opens his mouth to yell in complaint only to stop when he notices the person who pushed him is another kid, perhaps around his age, sprinting.

He looks behind him to see an older man - horribly familiar, especially with that stick of his - running toward the kid’s direction.

Sukuna sends a small wave of curse energy aimed at the man’s feet and trips him.

When the man falls flat on his face, Sukuna hurries in the direction of where the kid had run.

It only takes him a few seconds to locate the other kid.

One glance around the area with his four eyes confirms their privacy. Sukuna brings two hands to cup near his mouth and yells, “Hey!”

The kid freezes, at both Sukuna’s voice and the fact that they were running into a dead end.

They turn around, and Sukuna swears his chest rattles.

Stone green eyes shine back at him.

Sukuna swallows, “I know a place you can hide, but we have to go now. That old man won’t stay down for too long.”

The kid nods quickly, and Sukuna leads them through several back alleys of the town until they reach a rundown temple on the outside edge of the village. The two climb up jagged rocks that stick out the sides of the temple, and they don’t stop until they reach the highest floor, climbing through the window into the building.

The kid slides down the wall and tips their head back, swallowing the much-needed air back into their lungs.

When their chest stops heaving, they turn their head towards Sukuna and narrow their eyes at him. Their voice cracks when they ask, “Why did you help me?”

“Why were you being chased by the tomato vendor?” Sukuna counters.

Their lips close and tighten in frustration.

A gust of wind pushes through the temple’s window and knocks back the hood of Sukuna’s cloak, revealing the face he forgot he was hiding.

Emerald eyes widen.

Sukuna’s heart jumps to his throat. He knows he should run, but he’s frozen in place, waiting for a reaction. He can’t help it - his mother told him, time and time again, to never care what other people think of him, and, usually, he listens, but something is rooting him down in his place, faint and inaudible whispers behind his ears, telling him to, ‘Wait.’

“So, you are the boy,” are the next words breathed into the air.

Sukuna doesn’t know how to respond. He both knows and doesn’t know what this other kid is talking about - yes, he is the village monster, but the words, ‘the boy,’ have never been uttered like that.

Like sanctity.

“My mother used to speak of you,” the other continues, using their hands and knees to crawl closer, and closer, until they are close enough to block out the evening sun from Sukuna’s view, “But, we thought you were a myth. In the past ten harvests, she’s never seen you, but she always stayed firm. How odd, that only a year after that she - that I…” they leave off, and Sukuna doesn’t even notice the hand inching towards his face until they stop themselves, their shadow-tinted hand hovering in the air.

He startles backward, head thumping painfully on the stone wall.

The kid retracts quickly, “I’m sorry!”

Sukuna rubs his throbbing head, and the motion lifts his cloak, revealing the second arm that rests beneath his primary, “I-It’s ok,” He tells them, watching the way their eyes stare at the two arms on his left side with something that looks like wonder. He continues after another moment of silence, “What - uhm, I mean… What did your mother…?” He doesn’t know how to ask.

When the child looks back up, kind emerald eyes greet him, “A blessed child, birthed eleven harvests ago. Born with a soul four times as bright.”

Sukuna gasps.

(“Why do I look like this, Mama?”

His mother pauses, before setting her threaded needle on the table. She beckons her son with an outstretched arm, and he follows all the way up to her lap. She smiles warmly as Sukuna repositions himself atop her knee to face her. He waits.

“Sukuna, my boy… You are blessed. A child born with a soul four times as bright.”

The ruddy pink of his eyebrows furrow, “... four... times?”

His mother nods and thumbs under his lower left eye, “Four eyes,” the same hand slides down in a quick movement, and when her fingers wriggle into Sukuna's side, he shrieks in laughter, the sight causing his mother to let out a few giggles of her own, “and four arms!”

“M-Mama, s-stop it!”

Her hand stills and she presses a kiss to the crown of her son’s head.

“A soul brighter than four souls put together.”)

The child assumes his surprise to be fear and reaches out to hold the hand of his lower arm.

“Do not worry, I will not hurt you, or decieve you. I… I would like to be your ally.”

Sukuna thinks he would like that, as well.

“What is your name?” He asks. His mother told him once that he could, ‘obtain a glimpse of a person’s soul by the way they wear their name.’

The child beams, a missing tooth mirroring the one he had lost himself earlier that year, “Chiyoko! You can call me Chiyo, though. I think it’s cute.”

Sukuna thinks so, too.

“My name is Sukuna.”

SUKU - NA: The one who drives evil away.

CLICK TO READ REST OF CHAPTER

[mxgicthot]

The Meeting | Haleth & Asra

It's been two months since she first arrived in Vesuvia. Haleth is approached by an interesting stranger in the marketplace.

Set in : 8 years before the start of the game

Word count : 1005

Vesuvia had one of the world's greatest ports, its sheltered harbour a riot of colour  and strange smells. Winesinks, warehouses, and gaming dens lined the streets, cheek by jowl with cheap brothels and the temples of peculiar gods. Cutthroats, spell casters and merchants mingled with every crowd. 

Haleth had always been on the move, never really settling in one place for a long time, but Vesuvia was different, the people were different. They were more open to sorcerers and witches, especially those from far away lands. In fact they seemed to have a sort of strange fascination with them. Even so it was still safer to keep a low profile, no one had to know what she was.

The marketplace was where the buying and selling went on, all day and all night, and goods might be had for a fraction of what they cost at the Red market, if you did not ask where they came from. 

The day was warm and cloudless, the sky a deep blue. Hundreds of merchants and traders were unloading their goods and setting up in stalls when she arrived. 

Haleth set up her small stall in her usual spot, in the far corner of the marketplace. She had gathered many herbs, roots, wines, spices, exotic flowers and pieces of animals, from her homeland in Akoya and from her travels to Prakra. It's been two months since she arrived in Vesuvia and it already started to feel like home.

Apothecaries was a trade she was skilled at, having picked up new tips and  techniques from the witches in Prakra. Haleth hoped to one day buy a shop, her very own apothecary, but the small stall would have to do for now. At least until she raised enough coin. 

Oils, creams, elixirs, potions and charms that could cure any ailment ,they all were in high demand. It wouldn't be long until she reached her goal. 

The caravans soon came in, you could never tell what treasures the traders might bring this time. Haleth watched with interest as the marketplace slowly came alive, with large crowds of people flocking in. She enjoyed watching the people too, the tall pale seamen of Nevivon, crabmen unloading barrels of enormous frost crabs from the Frozen sea, the spice merchants of Milova decked in jewels and wearing rich garments. 

Old women bent like hunchbacks sold flavoured waters and goat's milk from glazed ceramic jugs strapped to their shoulders. Sailors from half a hundred nations wandered amongst the stalls, drinking spiced liquors and trading jokes in queer-sounding tongues. 

The palace guards wandered cautiously among the aisles in copper helmets, their scabbards swinging from their woven leather belts. The air smelled of salt and frying fish, of hot tar and honey, of incense and oil. 

The chatty young women in the stall next to hers  began selling her latest silk dresses, exquisite fabrics and cloth.

Behind one stall an armourer displayed steel breastplates worked with gold and red in ornate patterns, and helms hammered in the shapes of strange beasts. Next to him was a fat merchant selling goldwork, rings and brooches and beautiful medallions. 

Her first customer arrived, then several more people lined up, wanting all sorts of remedies from headaches and back pain to sore throats and toothaches. The season for the common cold was soon approaching, it seemed that she would have to close shop later than usual. 

"I've never seen herbs like these before." a cheery playful voice startled her from behind. 

She turned to face the stranger who grinned at her mischievously, his fluffy white hair danced around his face. He was young, Haleth guessed somewhere around her age. His baggy white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, slightly unbuttoned revealing a peak at his toned chest, a magenta, gold-tassel shawl wrapped across it. A maroon scarf sat loosely across his shoulders. 

"It's red dragon leaves." she said cautiously, turning around to attend to her last customer for the day.

He leaned his shoulder on the pillar of her stall looking down at her with deep purple eyes. "You are not from here, are you?" 

"Did the dragon leaves give it away? " she smirked.

He let out a soft chuckle " No, it's the accent." 

"Of course it is." 

Haleth handed out change to her customer and bid them goodbye. The stranger waited patiently for her to finish, it seemed like ignoring him was not going to work. 

Haleth turned her head to look up at them. Under the dappled sunshine, her brown irises made them think of golden honey. Her thick dark hair was nearly plaited into a long side braid that went over her left shoulder, a few stray strands fell on her cheek. " So tell me, do you often approach young women in the marketplace and ask where they are from or am I just lucky? " 

The stranger laughed, dimples appearing on their cheeks. "Well only those who give off strong magical auras." 

Haleth visibly winced at his remark. The stranger's expression was sincerely suspicious. Yet there were flashes of openness that suggested he was naturally easy going. Nevertheless she started to panic, had she done something to cause suspicion?

Haleth narrowed her eyes, "What do you want with me? " 

"No, please don't be alarmed. I mean you no harm." he grinned sheepishly, running his hand through his fluffy hair. " I was just curious." 

The stranger extended his hand and smiled warmly "I'm Asra by the way." 

Her features softened at his gesture. Haleth hesitated at first, then took it, grasping firmly. Then she felt it, a warm rippling sensation running through her body causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand. She gave him a searching stare before answering " My name is Moh-...” She cut herself off, glancing away from him as she rubbed her forehead. Mistakes are dangerous, she reminded herself. Focus. She took a deep breath to steady herself before finally answering. 

"You can call me Haleth." 

[starlightrows]

Something of Your Own

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 1.8k

Tags: Hurt Comfort, angst, happy ending 

Summary:  Din takes you in after your village is destroyed

AN: Originally posted on AO3 in November 2020 

Sitting against the wall in the hull of the ship, you rolled the small silver ball over towards the kid. He catches it and gets distracted looking at his tiny reflection again. He chirped happily, probably overjoyed to have a playmate on this lonely ship, and tries to roll it back.

You had only been traveling with the Mandalorian and his foundling son for a few months. So far it wasn’t so bad. You had been taking care of children almost your whole life, and this child was surprisingly easy to care for. Entertain him for most of the day, feed him often, hold him while he falls asleep, and he’s a perfect angel. Your new traveling companion had made him sound like a little terror. You supposed that was because he couldn’t afford to give all of his attention to him. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it. Well, that and having nowhere else to go.

The Mandalorian had come to your village asking if anyone had heard of a people called The Jedi. No one in the village had. You had never seen a Mandalorian before either. He had asked if there were other villages nearby he could ask. You offered him a place to stay for the night, and set out for the neighboring villages in the morning. He was reluctant, but the child seemed so attached to you. Continually trying to climb your skits and touch your face. So he agreed.

He regretted that decision. The nights on your planet were long, and dark. And his that darkness a massive ship flew overhead, landing on the outskirts of the village. Armored soldiers poured out of ship, and began breaking into homes. Demanding to know where to find the Mandalorian and his charge.

The Mandalorian awoke to screams and sound of blaster fire coming from somewhere else in the village. His helmet went on and he leaped from the bed, plucking the sleeping child from the pram, and yanking open the door to the bedroom. Only to find you at the door about to knock.

“Help us!” You shouted. He thrust the child into your arms, and went back to put on the few pieces of armor he had removed to sleep.

Coming back out of the room, he grabbed your shoulders roughly “Take the child back to my ship, lock yourself in there and do not let anyone in” You were frozen in terror, clutching the baby to your chest. “Go!” He shouted

So you did. Out the back door, and behind the row of homes and businesses you had lived in your whole life. Blindly you ran for the ship. The sound of your friends and neighbors screams pounded in your head, how the baby was sleeping through this you could not fathom.

Finally reaching the ship you climbed in, and sealed the door. You sunk to the floor, exactly where you sat now, and you waited. Tears streaming down your face. You had no idea how long you sat there, if you fell asleep at any point. The ship’s hull was pitch black and soundless, save for the soft breathing of the baby and your muffled crying.

The sound of the being opened from the outside scared you. Jumping to your feet, and retreating further into the darkness hoping you wouldn’t run into anything. Dull orange light streamed into the hull, and you heard your name being called out. It was the Mandalorian.

You emerged from the darkness, tired puffy eyes looking at him expectantly. Suddenly you were more terrified than you had been the entire night. Your village. Your home. Your whole life. What had happened? What was left?

You advanced towards him. But he stopped you with a gentle hand. “I’m sorry” that was the only thing he could say. An apology. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes. You pressed the child into his arms, and ran passed him.

You didn’t know what you would find when you got there. All you knew was you had to see it. You didn’t stop running until you saw the smoke rising from the ashes... your entire life had been reduced to rubble. You sobbed, like never before.

Eventually the Mandalorian had followed you back into the ruins of your village. He asked if there was somewhere you wanted to go, if you had friends or family. This was it. This was your whole life. You had nowhere to go. He offered to take you with him.

“Come with us. You can leave whenever you’d like. And I can pay you for your help with the kid,”

It was the only option you had, so here you were. Rocketing through the stars, on your way to an uncertain future, with a baby and a man who’s name you didn’t know and face you will never see.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of Mando’s footsteps descending the ladder from the cockpit. The baby toddled over to the landing, having lost all interest in the silver ball rolling back towards you. Mando bent down and picked up the child, he approached you as you stood up.

“We’ll be landing soon,” he told you “There’s someone I need to talk to on this planet. And they have a market where we can resupply”

You nod quietly. After these last few months, you were still mourning the loss of your village. Going into towns and markets on other planets was exciting but it made you long for home. You had never left your home world, visiting other planets exposed you to things you never would have imagined in your wildest dreams.

Planets covered in dense forests, others with endless expanses of water, not to long ago you had been to a planet that had man made structures covering every surface area... You had come from a farming planet, that sold crops and livestock to intergalactic traders. You knew there were other worlds in the universe, other species, but it was so much more vast than you could have imagined.

The planet you were visiting today was beautiful. Enormous mountains jutted from the ground, fields of tall grass and wildflowers, and clear springs. The village was busy, full of travelers stopping for more fuel, supplies, a place to stay for the night, or just somewhere to stretch their legs and breathe fresh air.

Mando watched as you step off of the ship, holding his son.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You asked the child softly. He replied in his garbled little chirps.

Mando felt his chest tighten. The guilt of being the reason you had nowhere to go weighed heavily on him. But bringing you to beautiful places like this, that you may have otherwise never experienced made him feel a little bit better. He didn’t want to admit he was taking you to some of the more interesting places he had visited in his travels, and tried to find nice places for you to stay and take care of the baby when he had to catch a bounty.

“Ready?” He asked. You smiled and nodded, following him towards the town.

Every time they stopped a new planet, Mando knew there was a chance you would not continue with him. But if truth be told, he didn’t want that to happen. He had grown fond of you these last few months. Having a second set of hands around to do things on the ship and someone to make sure the kid was always looked after, were more than welcome. But it was more than that, it was you. You were kind, and gentle. Respectful of his culture, and eager to learn and see everything. He didn’t want you to find a new place to settle. But that wasn’t his choice to make.

He thought about this as you walked together through the market. You held the child against your chest, letting him look out at all of the people and shops. You pointed out various things to him, and spoke with such care.

He left you with some credits, and instructions on where to meet back up with him when you were done shopping and he was finished with his meeting. He had been trying to give you more credits than you needed recently. A couple weeks back, he had snapped at you in a hurry to leave the planet he had left you and kid on for a few days...

“Get your things, we’re leaving”

You stood up, with the child in your arms and walked out of the small inn. He didn’t miss your words under your breath as you passed him.

“I don’t have any things,”

You were right, all you had was the clothes on your back. And the credits he gave you after returning from cashing in on bounties. It was his fault, and he knew it.

You walked around the market, trying to make sure you had enough of a variety of foods to take with you onto the ship. You picked up some strips of bandage cloth, and bacta pads as well. Your companion made more use of those than you would like to admit.

You passed by a clothing stall, and stopped short. Looking down at the kid in his tan robes. It wouldn’t hurt to get him a second set, he did get dirty a lot when you stayed on a planet for a few days. You stepped into the stall, and began looking to find children’s clothing.

The fabric the clothing is made of on this planet is so vastly different from the clothes your own people wore. You ran your fingers over a pair of dark brown trousers.

“What do you think little friend?” You asked the child “maybe we both need something new”

Mando approached the massive shade tree, seeing you and the baby leaning against the trunk and sharing a piece of fruit. He saw that you had several packages of supplies for the ship sitting next to you, and a leather pack. He also noticed the child wore new, grey robes. And you. You wore new well fitting trousers, tunic, boots and coat. He couldn’t help but notice how attractive you looked. The child scampered towards him, and raised his little arms. He shouldered the child, and offered you a hand to stand up.

“You look nice,” he said, somewhat dumbly.

“Thank you,” you replied, taking his hand. You gathered the packages and supplies. “I figured I would need some better clothes if I’m gonna keep up with the little womp rat” You scritched behind the child’s floppy ears. The baby cooed at your touch.

Mando felt comforted walking back to the ship. If you were willing to spend money on things to better help you take care of the kid, maybe you would stay longer.

Din Djarin Tag List: @spideysimpossiblegirl