#LET HER ASTOUND U PLS

[noblehcart]

all my trek followers need to hop on the bandwagon and let me throw ki.m pos.sible timetraveling into the FAR FAR future. its SO fun.

[hwaflms]

round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside–

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.���

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–“

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

[shitouttabuck]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 thank u bud i’m procrastinating packing and this was fun

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

seven!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

129,484 which is a fake number to me

3. what fandoms do you write for?

nothing has made me as insane in my life as network television procedural drama 911 on abc, so

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you can start a family who will always show you love

let the world have its way with you

my hearts over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance

like a dog with a bird at your door

i like the summer rain (i like the sounds you make)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i try very hard to because they make me so happy and it’s unbelievably kind of people to take the time to leave them!!! However i sometimes leave it too long and then worry it’s weird to reply after like. a month. which as a fic reader i wouldn’t give a shit about so idk what my problem is!!!! i will reply i will just maybe take a hot sec to do it

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

i don’t have any i’m a happily ever after or bust kinda guy in my own head if nowhere else…… angstiest is probably the sound of love astounds me if only because it ends post-feelings realisation but still pre-relationship

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

they’re all so happy omg. i will say with great personal bias it’s my heart’s over-pumping but also i have. a sequel in the works….

8. do you get hate on fics?

no people have been very very very lovely but also sjjsjsjs i’ve not been here super long. the funniest comment i’ve gotten was on my first fic where someone was like i liked this but it is jarringly inaccurate as mcdonald’s in california doesn’t have a veggie burger option 😭 i cried laughing im so sorry to u americans. pls petition your local mcdonald’s to stock the mcplant it slaps

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

have written two e-rated fics….. it’s very fun but i don’t think i’m very good so i’d like to practice actually (maybe some sexy prompts after i finish the bed-sharing ones?) just the regular kind for now like i love buck and eddie desperately and am myself into a million things but i don’t know how kinky they would actually get in my own head. so just a little gross with it for now i guess

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no that would be SICK. @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove is podficcing bucket list fic which is so very cool of her!

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

no omg i don’t know how y’all do it i’m bad at group projects but also this sounds soooooo fun. if also deeply stressful

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

if that’s synonymous with most likely to get you institutionalised, uh. gestures around us. otherwise mulder/scully and i am just now right as i’m typing this realising i’ve never ever in my life actually read x files fic what the fuck. also steve/bucky but i haven’t read fic since 2017 probably

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

listen i have not written a word for x files au past that one snip i shared forever ago. i want to soooo bad i’ve talked about it to some of you very rabidly but. it does not want to be written and if it did it would have to be so fucking long which is very daunting to me. not saying i’ve put her in the ground yet but. we might need some necromancing

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think i’m pretty good at writing in character? mostly? sometimes i struggle with buck just because i think we’re very similar and i project a little and then have to go back and fix it lmao but for the most part i think i’m good at that! and i have a lot of fun writing dialogue

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

plot!!!!!! and pacing!!!!!!!!!!! also my inability to write non-linearly omg if i get stuck i just get Stuck i can’t jump ahead

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

oooh i love it and would love to include more than the teeniest bits i have but i’m so conscious about it sounding natural and not stiff to people whose language it actually is (shout out and a million kisses to @eddiebabygirldiaz for fixing the spanish in i love you like a dog!!!!!)

19. first fandom you wrote for?

911 babey!

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance !!! not just because it was the first fic i posted after joining tumblr fandom but. idk it is so so so special to me like it makes me so happy and when i think about it i’m like. hey u wrote that. good for u my dude. and also maybe i just associate it with meeting a bunch of you whjsjssjsj

tagging @callaplums @eddiebabygirldiaz @housewifebuck @rewritetheending @try-set-me-on-fire @onward--upward @anxieteandbiscuits @devirnis @athenagranted if anyone wants to do this i’m nosy soz if you already have !!!!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hello wendy! your works are amazing as always!!! If it's okay can i request ran ad rindou with an s/o who's also in a gang and she comes home one night more injured than he'd ever seen her.

pls feel fre to ignore if it makes u uncomfortable! thanks!!

Got you!

Battered Up: Ran Haitani/Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 354

tw: none

masterlist

song recommendation:

Ran Haitani

The door closes behind you with a soft click, and you slide your battered body down the frame, sighing in the dark. It's past midnight, and you're sure Ran is asleep. But you're thankful for this.

If Ran saw you like this after a gang fight, he'd--

"Y/n, you're home..." A sleepy Ran emerges from your shared bedroom, flicking on the hallway light and rubbing his eyes. You try to turn away, but Ran catches your bruised and bloody face despite your feeble attempt to divert his attention. "Babe? What happened?"

"Bad fight," you whisper, swiping at the blood on your forehead. Without speaking, Ran pads to the kitchen and grabs the first-aid kit off of the top of the fridge, opening it and shifting through it.

"Come here so I can see the wound." You try to stand, gripping the door handle and pulling yourself up onto your shaky feet. When you face Ran head-on, he hisses, obviously astounded by your condition. "That's more than a bad fight." You walk over to him and collapse into his arms, eyes flooding with tears. You don't release them, nor do you let out anything other than a shaky sigh, but Ran already knows how much you're hurting. "It's alright, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

Rindou Haitani

You're laying in the bed, an ice bag on your forehead, and water by the night table. Rindou is working the flesh of your thighs between his hands, frowning deeply. You'd come home with a few broken fingers - which are now set in splints - a headache, and a bruised hipbone.

"Rin," you moan softly, inhaling with a slowness that you can only attribute to the pain in your limbs.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Don't go out and get revenge."

Rindou doesn't reply, still working on your tense muscles with firm hands and giving your body the love it needs. You know he's doing these things to ease you to sleep, and he's successful; your eyes closing slowly against their will. And the last thing you hear before you shut down is:

"I'll be back soon."

[beanhusk]

my fave letterboxd reviews of maan (2011)

transcription under the cut <3

tara, 4 1/2 stars: I'm crying this was so GOOD they were so IDIOTIC catherine in the blue dress changed my LIFE I too want a stupid toy piano to plink on as I contemplate the beauty of women

sashi, 4 1/2 stars: some cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. david tennant and catherine tate killed me with ACTING.

julia, 4 1/2 stars: kill claudio.

ellie🦒, 5 stars: it's almost as if shakespeare wrote this play SPECIFICALLY for david and catherine because hoo boy nobody could have performed this the way they did

Nicole, 4 1/2 stars: the only thing that would have made this production better is if beatrice had had her way and benedick actually killed claudio

peej, 5 stars: josie rourke understands this play better than shakespeare did

Caitlin, 5 stars: The chaotic bisexual energy in this is ASTOUNDING

ffion, 4 stars: the chemistry between david tennant and catherine tate??? a more iconic comedy duo CANNOT be named

Katie🌈🎵, 4 1/2 stars: The queer energy coming off of this.... truly what Shakespeare would have wanted

teagan, 5 stars: i've never loved a performance choice more than i love david tennant as benedick delivering a soliloquy hungover, in jorts, and drinking through a star-shaped crazy straw! (also margaret pls marry me)

Jules, 4 stars: Benedick and Beatrice like lets be dumbe and silley together let's be stoopid in love and win the game of gender

🧚‍♀️, 4 1/2 stars: catherine tate wife

baz, 4 1/2 stars: catherine tate in the suit and the blue dress.......god i love women

galpalkirk, 4 stars: catherine tate... david tennant... i love you

maggie: wheres that tweet about being at a barbecue and saying like this whole thing smacks of gender....me watching this

tessaclare, 4 stars: susan_sontag_notes_on_camp.mp4

milo: far too much gender going on

Alex AL, 5 stars: Two Kinsey 5s making it work

tennant, 5 stars: david tennant and catherine tate being in a shakepseare play together cured my depression.

Emilie🤟🏼, 5 stars: the Only benedick and beatrice

vivi: this 100% takes place in the same universe as the mamma mia movies

Jean, 5 stars: OH the GENDER of it all.

Nikuuuu, 5 stars: U think u know romance??? U don't

bruschetta bitch, 4 1/2 stars: still waiting for david and catherine to adopt me

angelazira, 5 stars: oh, so Catherine tate is hot hot.

mila, 3 1/2 stars: benedick and beatrice bicons <3

felicia, 4 1/2 stars: Oh fuck maybe David Tennant is hot

mary, 4 stars: david tennant with white paint on his face, grinning like an idiot because he's in love

azie, 5 stars: Benedick: the orginal himbo

james, 4 stars: hand me a baseball bat im bashing claudios head in

Grace, 4 stars: this was so crazy it made me want to make out with someone but then i regained my senses

Sophie, 5 stars: Much Ado About Nothing (2011) my beloved

shira / nell, 5 stars: when shakespeare wrote much ado about nothing he did it specifically with david tennant and catherine tate in mind. no one else can give us such chaotic bisexual energies.

lemon, 4 1/2 stars: nothing to say just bi/bi ship

shira / nell, 5 stars: ngl i have no idea what's happening half the time but catherine tate hot and david tennant pretty so does it really matter

elliot, 4 stars: thank you catherine & david for your service to the lgbt community

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

You finger the dog-eared magazine, last month’s issue of a shoddy fashion magazine that featured top actress Jennifer Garner on the front cover. Her caramel brown highlights practically glow on the page, blown out and beautiful. You suppress a sigh, you long to be the radiant young woman on the cover. The headline is glittery, sparkly and just begging for attention. 

Swiping a hand through the pages, your eyes are crowded with over-stimulation. Colorful models dressed up in the latest designs, Chanel and Burberry suits you can only dream of, and happy women at the prime of their lives. 

Twenty-seven and in Heaven! You smile wryly at the cheesy rhyme that headlines the following pages, but nevertheless the happy model on the spread does indeed look like they’re in heaven. 

Sure, you’re no shrinking violet. Heck, you don’t even consider yourself painfully average. You may not be on the traditional spectrum of popularity in high school, but you get around and have a wonderful best friend and an even better boyfriend. However given the social classes that preside, you do get those moments where you second guess your life’s position. Good thing high school has an expiration date, and you’re close to the end.  

“Baby Bun, what are you doing?” the magazine is snatched from your grasp, thrown on the table without a care in the world. Jennifer Garner’s hydro-whitened smile gleams tauntingly at you, “reading that junk is gonna mess with your head.” 

Your boyfriend returns from his final suit fitting, his outfit for tonight all pressed and ready to go. He pouts at you, pulling you up by the hand to lead you out of the Men’s Warehouse. Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the lacrosse team, flying by high school with a sports scholarship already in the bag. Eats up attention like plants soak up the sun. Secretly loves taking photographs of his dog and watching Netflix animes at your house. 

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

“Excited to listen to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem on repeat?” you guaff, “as if.” 

He pinches your arm lightly, “You also forget that we’re gonna tear up the floor to Nicki Minaj’s Superbass.” 

You shrug listlessly, crunching the white plastic closer to your body. 

Before you can suck all the air out of the garment bag, Jungkook carefully extracts it from your grasp, easily holding it between his one arm so he can thread his other hand through yours. “I am excited! It’s just that… Jimin’s not gonna be there and we’re sitting with the Yearbook committee.”

Looking down at the floor you extract your hand from his, slipping into his parent’s Honda Civic. The yearbook committee, meaning you’d be sitting at a table with head editor Jennie and her group of friends. Friends that are popular and pretty, just like Jungkook. 

Jimin is currently on a flight back from Korea due to a family funeral, therefore leaving a seat empty at your prom table. It was only seat that you cared about, other than Jungkook’s. It’s no one’s fault and Jimin of course is doubly upset to miss prom, but without your best friend you’re not sure if you can survive the night. 

One of the few secrets you keep from Jungkook is the fact that Jennie and you aren’t exactly friendly to each other. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t run the in same friend group or you always win the debate in Civics class, but Jennie clearly expresses her dislike for you as easily as she expresses her love for Jungkook. 

Which makes you incredibly insecure, but Jennie and Jungkook have been friends for longer than you and him have been together, who are you to intervene? 

Jungkook slips in the driver’s seat, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

Right. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend, and that should matter more than his friendship with Jennie. 

But the smell of his freshly cleaned lacrosse jersey, his duffle bag overflowing with protein powder and unfinished assignments remind you that you have your world and he has his. A conversation about your insecurities could wait until tomorrow. 

“When’s Jimin’s flight?” Jungkook asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping on your thigh as he pulls out. 

“He’ll be back two hours into the dance,” you report, albeit glumly as you rest your head against the cool window. 

“That sucks,” Jungkook replies, a bit of sadness in his tone, “he has to miss out on his prom night.” 

You shrug, “Prom isn’t everything, it’s about the people you spend it with.” 

“Well then,” he squeezes your thigh, “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” 

You only have a few hours to get ready until you meet Jungkook at his house for pictures, so when you get dropped off, you tell him that he doesn’t have to get out of the car to escort you into your home. But Jungkook is insistent, putting the car in park and getting out your dress for you with such delicacy that you’re positively sure there’s no wrinkles in the fabric. Taking the dress from his grasp you wish him goodbye and a promise to meet each other later. 

“Wait,” Jungkook is biting his lip, unable to let go of your hand even though you’re already up the stairs. You’re looking down at him, a rarity considering his tall frame. 

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

“Uh, I was just thinking,” he’s scratching the back of his head, and you soften. The little quirk he has is a sign of insecurity, being the star player Jungkook is forced to exude confidence to a fault. “Maybe, we could skip the prom thing? You said so yourself that prom is about the people you spend it with.” 

Your eyes widen, clutching your dress tighter. “What? Jungkook, that’s ridiculous. Between the both of us we’ve spent a lot of money on the clothes and the tickets.” 

“Right,” he forces a laugh, and you put a hand on your hip to think it out but you can’t quite place what’s going on. “Sorry Bun, I just know how the finale of our favorite anime airs tonight.” 

“You’re so silly,” you chastise, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Normally he hates it, but you can’t help but melt when he leans into your touch a little more. “C’mon, I know suits are stuffy and stuff, but let’s just do this high school rite of passage thing. Afterwards we can go to McDonalds or something and watch the recording.” 

“You’re right,” his face is red, “what was I thinking? Can’t miss out on a night to see my beautiful girlfriend all dressed up.” 

He squeezes your hand one last time, a little too tight for comfort. With a half smile he waves, going into his car and driving off. 

You don’t have time to dwell on his weirdness (and trust when you say that Jungkook is plenty weird and it astounds you how the rest of your class has no idea) so you fly up to your room to get your hair and makeup ready. Your parents greet you excitedly along the way, telling you there’s a package left for you on your vanity.

It’s a plain cardboard box, already cut and unwrapped by your parents for convenience. The address shows it came from Korea, proudly displaying the name of your best friend on the return address. Inside is a beautiful compact, made of brushed gold and pink metal. The makeup inside is a loose glitter from a brand that you don’t recognize, but since it’s a gift from Jimin, you trust his taste. 

I have to be at prom somehow, Jimin’s note on the box reads, don’t overthink and have fun! 

You snort, reading the sticky note over and over in Jimin’s voice. Looking over the shade, you can’t help but grimace at the cliché name. Wishing Dust. The color is a little too white and silvery for your taste, but you’ll wear it in honor of Jimin. 

The dress, the hair, the makeup all come together little by little. You like the ritual of getting ready, building yourself up to the highest order and feeling closer and closer to the beautiful women in magazines. Surprisingly, your favorite part of getting ready is applying the glitter that Jimin gifted you. The puff enclosed is cloud soft, and surprisingly the color doesn’t look too ashen on your skin. The glitter sinks into your skin like a soft butter, accentuating your collarbones and cheeks as if you are glowing from within. 

You smile at yourself in the mirror. A little part of you wishes you could look like this everyday. You wish you could always look and feel this confident, and act mature and graceful. 

A buzzing on your desk stops your wishful thinking, and you frown at the message that lights up your phone. 

Jungkook: sorry bun, but the civic finally broke down and its on its way to car heaven. Could we meet at the party hall instead? We can take pictures there, jennie mentioned yearbook hired a photographer

Disheartened, you send a quick text back saying it’s fine. Any more explanation on your feelings would reveal your disappointment. You don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents that they won’t be taking pictures with your boyfriend anytime soon. So you suck it in and take solo pictures for your parents and some group selfies. This is just one bump in the night, the rest of it should be smooth sailing. 

But when your parents drop you off at the venue your eyes first land on a beat up Honda Civic. You’re pretty sure car heaven isn’t at the prom. 

The rest of your entrance is a blur as you go through every corner of the venue, searching for your boyfriend. You’re clutching his matching flower in your hand, a beautiful red rose with baby’s breath circling around it, all clutched together in a black silk ribbon. You wonder what kind of flower he bought you. 

But it’s nearly impossible to find him. Not at the photobooth, the appetizer buffet, or in the lobby. It’s not until you’re sweating at the brow and nearing the corner of the venue that you do find him.

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

The plastic encasing Jungkook’s boutonniere drops, clanging to the ground. 

Whispers of you circle the air, meeting your ears and confirming all your insecurities. 

“Oh my god, I knew Jungkook was cheating on her!” 

“Wow, how pathetic. She ran all the way to prom alone to see this?” 

“I thought his girlfriend was a smart girl. How did she not know that their relationship was a bet all along?” 

Jungkook and Jennie are on the balcony, looking picture perfect in matching formal attire and flowers. The sun is setting, not taking its time as it sinks deeper and deeper into the horizon. The sky darkens and the air is chilly, much like your heart. 

Jungkook's eyes are wide and in shock as he watches you from the balcony, but Jennie’s are sharp and satisfied. Satisfied, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated. 

While you can’t hear him because he’s so far away, you can see the ghost of your name on his lips. Your ears are ringing, numb to the laughter of the students watching and the pity that others are throwing at you. You feel dumb. You feel like throwing up. In a bout of anger your heel digs into the plastic of the boutonniere, crushing the innocent rose in its clear coffin. 

You don’t make it far out the door when one of your favorite teachers snatches you in concern. 

“Honey, any further and you’ll be running on the highway," Mrs. Song jokes, pulling you away from the entrance. 

You feel like a newborn deer in your heels and incredibly heavy in your dress as Mrs. Song drags you over to a staff bathroom. It's far, far away from the actual party. Mrs. Song doesn't say anything, and just gives you a sad smile as she let's you go into the single stall alone. 

Sitting on the toilet and not giving a care that your dress is probably getting soiled, you bury your face in your hands and finally let the tears flow. Fat, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks without a care in the world. 

"Mrs. Song please, I need to get in there." 

"Now Jungkook, I think you've done enough for today. Go back to the party and don't worry about it." 

You can imagine Jungkook now, he hated it when people told him not to worry.  It only made him more annoyed, fists probably clenched under his perfectly tailored suit and his cute teeth uncharacteristically gritted. He cared to a fault, at least you thought he did. He ruined your night, he made you feel so dumb and silly.

But the longer you stayed in the dim bathroom, you could care less. Thank goodness for Mrs. Song guarding the door. Why would he bother to follow you? It turns out all your insecurities are not in vain, and that you’ve been ignoring a gut feeling you’ve mistaken for your lack of trust. You shouldn’t have trusted Jungkook. You shouldn’t have been so tolerable of Jennie. 

Goodness, you feel so stupid. You hope that there are other bathrooms for staff to use, because you want to coop yourself in here until the last dance. Mascara drips on your sleeves, your hands swiping at your cheeks to stop any tears from staining your dress even further. 

The more you hear Jungkook and Mrs. Song argue, the more you want to disappear. You bury yourself on the floor, uncaring of how dirty the tiles are. Glitter smears across your cheeks and sticks to your hands, and you no longer feel like the thriving young adult you once felt when you walked out the door this evening.

All you can do is cry and pray you can get through the night. And the next day, and the rest of senior year. You don’t want to see Jungkook or Jennie until graduation, when they walk out of the door and permanently out of your life. You wish you could skip the rest of the semester, and fastforward to the life you’ve carved for yourself in your dreams since freshman year. You wish you could be like the woman on the magazine, who has her whole life put together. To be a woman who holds all the confidence in the world and doesn’t have to worry about stupid men. 

Just like the cover. Thirty, flirty and thriving. Just like the models in the magazines. Twenty-seven and in heaven. 

Just once, do you want to taste the feeling of having life on your side. 

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

Of course, falling asleep in a random bathroom stall will make you feel those things. Your dress clinging uncomfortably to your sweating form, lulled to the sounds of Mrs. Song’s temperamental voice and Jungkook’s arguing. 

But for some reason it’s a different kind of disgusting. The feeling is rotting in your throat, as if there’s a tang stuck to the roof of your mouth. You also feel impossibly dehydrated, as if you’ve run a marathon. And for some reason you’re sore? Especially in the crotch, and you don’t remember experiencing any cramps yesterday. 

Your hands come to your body, and instead of feeling tulle and taffeta your hands are greeted with a silky black negligee that hangs across your waist. Panic stings in your bones like a stroke of lightning. 

Eyes snapping open, your breath catches in your throat when you take in the room. You’re on a large plush creme couch, large enough to be a bed. The organza curtains are a shade of bottle green and are opened slightly to let the morning sun in. From your view it seems like this is the top floor of the complex, overlooking the city horizon. 

You feel the covers shift slightly, and you realize there’s a naked man sleeping next to you. You scream. 

The man screams back with an even higher pitch, falling off the couch and clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “What?” he panics, eyes darting back and forth across the room like he’s on a reality television show. “What the fuck? Is there something on my face! Why are you screaming so early!” 

The fact that he’s an adult man and you’re seventeen is even more terrifying, and you feel absolutely naked despite the fact that you’re nearly clothed. But what confuses you more is that this man looks awfully familiar. 

Familiar in the sense that you’ve seen him in one too many television sitcoms to count. This man in front of you looks like Kim Seokjin, the protagonist of your favorite television show: Sky City. He has the same plump lips and pretty face, only aged up. But last time you checked on Soompi, Seokjin is supposed to be twenty years old and filming the next season in New Zealand. Arguably he could be his older brother, but he never acted and you don’t think he’d be the spitting image. 

“Seokjin?” you taste the name on your tongue, “Kim Seokjin?” 

Seokjin relaxes considerably, and he finds it appropriate to return to the couch, placing a tentative hand on your thigh. “Right, were you really that drunk? You got my name right, but it seems that you’ve forgotten that the only name you called me last night was sex god…” 

His plush lips meet the ends of your earlobe, and you squeal at the strange sensation. 

You’ve had sex with this man and you can’t even remember it? Furthermore how can a peasant like you be in contact with a celebrity? What on earth happened last night? Shouldn’t you be calling the police or panicking more? Where’s the pepper spray and sharp knives where you need them? You can’t even find it in you to find a sharp weapon at your once cherished-idol, who’s apparently unfazed and drinking in your body like he has a taste of it every night. 

“What’s the date?” you push him away, looking around for any signs of where you are and how you ended up here. 

“It’s the first day of spring,” Seokjin says easily, stretching out on the couch. “I wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom. Should we have a picnic with Bogum?” 

“Where’s my phone, I can’t find my phone!” 

Seokjin doesn’t bat an eye as he digs through the couch, pulling something from under him. He waves it in front of your face. “That’s not my phone,” you deadpan. 

“Okay I guess you were actually that drunk,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, forcing the large piece of plastic and metal on your palm. “When you went to the bathroom last night you dropped your old phone in the toilet. We picked up a new one on the way to the next bar. Good thing the new Samsung dropped last month!” 

Since when are phones this large? You carry the strange weight in your hands, confused as to why Seokjin thinks this is your phone. You own a beat up 2G that barely gets any reception in the school basement. But when you turn it on, the screen recognizes your face immediately and unlocks. Wow, since when do cell phones do face recognition? 

A selfie of you and Seokjin appears on the homescreen, looking totally happy. 

Is that you? 

No longer do you have acne lining your brows, or uneven skin texture. Your smile is high and prominent. Your visage is clean and done with minimal makeup, highlighting your beauty. 

The date flickers on the top of the screen. March 20th, 2021: 7:42AM.

You scream again. Seokjin screams again for the heck of it. 

“How did this happen!” you shriek, dropping your phone to step up to the window. You bask in your reflection, mildly impressed and even more so afraid of what’s in front of you. Your body has filled out like an adult, and considering it’s ten years into the future, other things have filled out as well. Experimentally, your hands go out to your chest, squeezing. Yep, those knockers were not there the last time you checked. 

“Well, you came back from work completely drained from a shoot and I just finished filming my Everyday Skincare Routine video with Vogue,” Seokjin comes up to you, blanket tied around his waist like a long towel. “We met at our usual bar and do what we usually do when we’re both stressed: bang it out.” 

You watch as Seokjin’s hands snake around your slick silk, hugging you from behind like it’s second nature. “Is this a dream?” you ask yourself, because it’s not unlikely that you’ve had a sex dream with Seokjin and this is the aftermath dream. 

“Nope,” you yelp when Seokjin pinches your butt, hard. It stings. “This is real life, baby.” 

“Are we dating?” 

You feel Seokjin’s grip tense, and he shoves your innocent question away with a coarse laugh. “You know both you and me don’t do serious relationships. It’s why we work so well together, you know that.” 

“Right,” you reply softly. That doesn’t sound like you at all, and it scares you considerably. 

“So, I gotta go,” you panic when he lets go and starts searching around for his clothes. Your face heats up at Seokjin’s perky ass staring back at you, and your eyes dart to a random spot in the corner. “I got a green meeting with Ellen, and lord knows I don’t wanna face her wrath if I’m late.” 

In seconds he’s fully clothed in a plain shirt and jeans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Call me beep me, if you wanna reach me,” he sings, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he leaves you in the large apartment. 

The door slams with a hard smack and that’s when you collapse on the couch that feels foreign and strange, breaking into tears. 

The next time you wake up, it’s the next day. It’s a glaringly bright Sunday and for whatever reason you’re still in this aged-up body. Maybe time travel makes the body really tired. This isn’t a dream. You panic for the second time, walking back and forth around the loft that’s apparently yours. It seems like it’s yours, because the bills that linger on the coffee table have your name and the pictures in the one bedroom are of you and your family. 

But the refrigerator in the nook is digital and has fancy ice settings, something you could never imagine owning. Your closet is filled with brand named suits, and with every designer label you pass you mentally rack up the total of just one section. It’s enough to pay for your college tuition if your first choice accepts you. 

Wait. You’re apparently twenty-seven, college is long gone. 

Lying in your bed feels better, surrounded by familiar pictures of your cousins and family. Your favorite snacks are tucked with care in your nightstand, and it makes you feel a tiny bit better knowing that your favorite chocolate and chips will never change. 

What happened in the past ten years? Why don’t you remember anything and are you entirely sure this isn’t some strange fever dream? 

Time ticks slowly as you spend the afternoon, glued to your phone. It’s a 25 Note+ and it’s filled with multiple doohickeys and settings that make you feel technologically inept. You never thought you were bad with technology, but clearly these phones have a learning curve attached to them. 

You try to call your family, but according to the voicemail left they’re on a Disney cruise that you paid for. Your heart aches at the excited voice of your parents. Why are they on a vacation without you? 

The next thing you aim for is finding Jimin’s contact. According to Google Maps, you’re not far from your hometown and you know that Jimin’s always wanted to move to the city so he must be nearby. To your chagrin, his name isn’t on your contact list. Strange, he’s always number two on speed dial. 

Clicking on the internet browser, you go to the online Whitepages and search up Park Jimin. There may be a million ones, but maybe you could get a lead. When a picture and an address show up easily with one swipe, you scoff. The internet has no room for privacy ten years later, huh? 

The most casual thing you own in your closet is a Free People dress, reaching mid-calf with flowing bell sleeves. Heck, you couldn’t even find a single pair of jeans. You don’t care however, as you swipe your keys from the counter (you gape, you own a Tesla?) and race down to the parking garage. 

Jimin’s apartment is on the other side of the city. It’s strange, transitioning from high rises and shiny windows to quaint brick walls and lived-in patio spaces. You feel like it’s a race against time as you make it all the way to his room, knocking feverishly on the mahogany red door. 

“What? Who is it?” it’s clear that his room is cheap, the walls thin as you hear his voice shuffle throughout the room. Why are you shaking? It’s just your best friend. 

The door swings open and you and Jimin drink each other in. His baby fat has melted from his cheeks, revealing a handsome and charming jawline. His hair is no longer a natural black, but has been dyed to a sandy blond that suits his tan. His eyes, wide in surprise, are still a soft brown but not as bright as when he was seventeen. 

“Jimin,” your third round of tears hits you like a truck at the sight of your best friend, and you immediately run into his arms. 

But he doesn’t hug you back immediately. In fact, he doesn’t know what to do at all. Your name rolls off his lips like he’s seen a ghost. 

You pull away, as if you are burned. You flinch at the way Jimin regards you. “Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” he looks at you, crossing his arms, “I don’t know what to feel when your old best friend suddenly shows up at your doorstep after ten years.” 

What? 

“Why would I do that?” you whisper, bracing your hand against the doorframe to steady yourself. 

“Well, after graduation you chose a college at the last minute. Decided to go to a prestigious fashion university in Europe. Shacked it up with some British guys and well, forgot about your past but I guess I can’t blame you.” 

“But I couldn’t have left you,” you know you’re not even talking to Jimin, but in fact scolding yourself for being so stupid these past ten years. “I was crying for you that night at prom. All I wanted was for you to be there and hold me!” 

That strikes a cord. Jimin pops his head into the hallway, looking back and forth to see if anyone is watching. He sighs when your tears turn into sobs, shaking your form. “Come in,” he mutters, ushering you inside.

Jimin’s apartment feels more like home than your apartment does. Cosy and warm with the scent of jasmine brewing on the stove. The pour of tea soothes you slightly as you relax on the worn leather couch. 

Jimin hands you a mug, sitting opposite you against the rickety living room table. “Are you okay?” he asks, showing genuine concern for the first time. 

“I’m,” you roll the muddy liquid in your grasp, watching the tea leaves tumble. “I just came back from the hospital, actually. Hit my head drinking last night and I’m suffering from memory loss,” you clutch your head for good measure, feigning injury.  

“Memory loss?” he gapes, unable to see through your lie. 

“Yeah uh,” you wince, “almost ten years of memory loss.” 

Jimin isn’t a man who thinks ahead, preferring to live in the moment. You figure he’s not going to question your excuse. Your former best friend nearly drops his tea in the process, hot drops burning his hand. He hisses, placing the plain mug on the table as he goes to his shelves, pulling out your class yearbook. 

“Ten years,” he shakes his head, looking like he’s just stepped into a Korean drama. “Is that even possible?” 

“Must be,” you sigh, not wanting to delve into the details of how you ended up in the future, “the first thing I did when I woke up was scream my head off. Then I woke up later and the first person I called were my parents who didn’t pick up, and then I wanted to call you but,” you squeeze the cup in your hands, “I couldn’t find your contact so I searched you up.” 

“Should we call the hospital or something? Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around like this.” 

“Don’t worry, they said the memory loss is only temporary,” you force a smile, knocking your head lightly with the heel of your palm, “I just gotta y’know, catch up a little bit. I thought you could help.” 

Jimin is patient, albeit a little nervous, watching carefully as your eyes glaze emptily over the old yearbook. You’re unfazed at the familiar faces and events that are described to you in detail, unable to recall what happened during the events that followed graduation. There’s barely any pictures of you, so it doesn’t help when he tries to explain as much as he can. 

You stop him at the sports section, pointing a finger at Jungkook being carried by his fellow teammates during the lacrosse championships. “What happened to Jungkook?” 

Jimin shrugged, “Blew his sports scholarship,” your eyebrows float to the top of your forehead, appalled that your former love would do such a thing, “decided to pursue his passion and went to an art school for a degree in photography.” 

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

“I’m sorry,” you warble, wiping at your sleeve as if the fabric didn’t cost hundreds of dollars, “I must be making you so uncomfortable by barging in. I’ll get out of your life—”

“No, not that. I just don’t like seeing you cry,” Jimin sighs, squeezing your knee, “of course I was upset when you suddenly upped and left town to study in another continent. But I was still happy for you. On the internet you seemed tons happier since highschool.” 

“I can say that’s no longer the case,” you mutter sadly, taking a long drag of your tea. The burn flows down your throat, digging you to reality, “I guess I just woke up and wasn’t prepared to be the person I ended up being.” 

“Well, what can your former best friend do to make it better?” 

Your eyes widen at Jimin’s uneasy stare, as if he’s wondering whether he said the right thing or not. 

“Um,” you bite your lip, “will you go shopping with me? I realized I don’t own any sweatpants or sneakers and I would really like to wear something comfortable right now,” you look despondently on your uncomfortable dress, swinging around the sleeves that seem to snag onto everything. 

“Okay,” he nods easily, “will you also buy me new sweatpants and sneakers? And dinner? I really want a New York Strip.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, “can I afford that?” 

He chuckles to himself, pulling you up and wiping the tears on your face with a tissue from his pocket. You don’t even care to ask whether the tissue is clean, only focusing on the tender gesture that you’ve missed so much. 

“Honey, you’re one of the co-editors of Ego. I’m sure a couple pairs of sweatpants and steak will barely make a dent in your bank account.” 

You’re flabbergasted. Ego? The fashion magazine that’s on billboards and commercials? That Ego? 

After a couple checks through your bank account, and a triple check with a phone call and trip to the ATM, you’re sure the money is yours. It scares you, but also comforts you knowing that you’ve always been able to make it big. 

You barely bat an eye as Jimin tugs you around the city with a familiarity that has you reeling. You struggle to remember the streets you pass and the signs that indicate what part of town you’re in, all whilst Jimin basks in the fruits of your labor. You don’t give a shit, obviously. It makes you happy seeing Jimin slowly melt and grow more comfortable throughout the day. 

This is the kind of life you envisioned. One where comfort isn’t discarded for luxury, where the two cultures can marry. Jimin busts a gut when he sees you angrily shove your Free People dress deep in your shopping bags in favor of a black Adidas tracksuit that makes you feel like a soccer mom. Of course, he doesn’t know why you’re so aggressive with all your luxurious items, heck you even make him drive your Tesla, but nevertheless each passing hour brightens you up considerably.  

When you two arrive at a fancy steakhouse with a dress code, the manager doesn’t hesitate to chide you and suggest the Applebee’s down the street. 

You retort back that you’re an editor of Ego, and in seconds you’d have this restaurant swarmed with bad reviews. You know nothing about culinary review but you’re sure the manager doesn’t know that, and no arguments are placed after that. 

The evening puts you in higher spirits, and you’re almost convinced that you’re a successful twenty-something catching up with your former best friend. You’ve always been mature for your age, high school can do that to a person, and it makes it vastly easier to keep up with the new decade. 

“So,” you help Jimin get his bags up into his apartment. A little part of it feels like a bribe as you carry all the name brands on your arms, but you chalk it up to being compensation for the last ten years, “who are the people you hang out with now? Anyone I know?” 

“Well, Taehyung sometimes drops by if he’s free. He’s traveling the world now, he actually works with you,” Jimin provides the information smoothly, “only he works in the international business column. But surprisingly, the person I hang out the most with is—”

“Jungkook.” 

Standing face-to-face with your old high school sweetheart disarms you, and you’re sorely reminded that just you’re a seventeen-year-old in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body. 

Jungkook looks tired, and he rubs his eyes a bit as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. You in the flesh, looking purposeful and confident as you hold three bags on each arm, each piece probably costing more than his rent. He’s filled out, what once was lean muscle and minor definition has turned into full muscle mass hidden beneath a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are two sizes too big. His face is still sweet-looking and baby-like, but his hair is overgrown and waving in front of his eyes without a care in the world. 

“Did I mention we’re neighbors?” you can practically hear the wince in Jimin’s voice, probably regretting that he hid that chunk of information from you. 

Jungkook tastes his name on your lips, and it sounds foriegn and strange coming from the both of you. “Good to see you,” he says, voice low. 

You barely formulate a response, replying with an equally nervous “right back at ya” and then you two resume staring at each other. While Jungkook hasn’t seen you in the last ten years, you saw him yesterday. Yesterday, where you started the day all peachy keen and it spiraled downhill shortly after. It’s jarring, knowing that your body doesn’t fit your conscience. 

“Well I uh,” Jungkook lifts his indicator to leave, a large garbage bag, “bye.” 

Jungkook shuffles out of the small hallway, and you get a whiff of his scent. It’s still the same, fabric softener mixed with his own musk. 

“I,” you start off slow, “maybe I should go talk to him?” 

“No,” he warns. “You and Jungkook are completely different people now, he’s just gonna think you’re pitying him if you go up and talk to him out of the blue.”

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

“You really think that?” Jimin shakes his head, “I know what happened at prom was rough but, I really didn’t think much of your relationship with Jungkook before that. It seemed like you were pretty compatible—”

“Up until the point he was kissing Jennie in matching flowers on the balcony like some kind of romance film?” you scoff, crossing your arms, “right. Super compatible.” 

Jimin sighs, as if he’s chastising a teenager. “Prom happened ten years ago, don’t act like it happened yesterday. People change.” 

You frown, because in your mind it did happen yesterday. 

Sleeping last night was hell. It’s one thing to be completely zonked out of your mind and unsure if you’re in a dream or weird coma, but knowing that you’re going to be stuck here for awhile is painful. Your loft is too big for your tiny body, your mattress cold and empty with just you in it. Without your parents to call and you feeling wholly insecure about your rekindling with Jimin, the only person you can really call is… Seokjin. 

And you really don’t want a repeat of your first night. 

So you suck it up, spend your waking hours in your office and quickly learning your tasks for work. You don’t even know what time you’re supposed to clock in, but from a sticky note attached to your MacBook it seems that you have a creative meeting at 10AM. You allow yourself two hours of sleep before you get moving.

The one exciting thing about your morning is that your outfit choices are virtually limitless. You feel like Cher in Clueless, all your outfits color-coordinated and organized by season. You pick out a springy Chanel number, a pale pink tweed skirt suit that has you feeling equally parts cute and an independent working woman. You even make time to buy yourself a coffee, because that’s what adults do right? 

Your office is gorgeous. Also located in the upper part of the city, the glass desk and high windows fit right in. You have an ideas board filled with various designs, fabrics and models to choose from. There’s a little frilly notebook straight out of the 2000s, all filled with phone numbers and special contacts all at your disposal. You even have your own cold press coffee machine complete with a mini-fridge. 

“You’re never this early, nervous for the meeting?” 

You squeal, nearly dropping your coffee as you take a tour around your office. You fight the urge to gape and point accusingly at the woman standing at your door.

“Jennie?” 

“In the flesh,” she gives you a cool smirk, holding her arms out for a hug. It really throws you for a loop, and you’re left stricken in your spot as Jennie closes the gap and squeezes the life out of you. Her grey pinstripe pantsuit crumples against your softer fabric. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Jennie and you are practically besties,” Jimin sounds a little jealous while saying that, forcing you to scroll through your Instagram page to see the countless selfies of you and your high school rival, “I mean, at least that’s what the internet says. Went to college in Europe together and everything.” 

So it’s true. You awkwardly pat Jennie on the back, and she doesn’t seem to mind when she pulls away and tells you to meet upstairs. You mindlessly follow after her to the conference room, wishing a kind good morning to everyone that greets you. 

Once you make it upstairs, you flinch at the loud screech of your voice. “My favorite editor!” someone in a plaid red suit runs up to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. The editor-in-chief Jung Hoseok smiles brightly at you, leading you to a seat at the head of the table right next to him. You’re cosy with the editor-in-chief? This is crazy! 

“G-good morning Mr. Jung,” you stutter, trying to remain cool. 

“Did something happen to you this weekend?” Hoseok jests, pinching your cheek like a long lost sister. “You always call me Hobi.” 

“Oh,” you force a giggle, “you don’t even know how crazy this weekend was.” 

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

“I’m so jealous,” Jennie sing-songs, a manicured finger trailing over the back of your chair, “only the best of the best can sit next to the big boss.” 

The comment has you bristling. Are you really friends? Giving her a tight smile, she saunters to another corner of the meeting. On your section of the table is your itinerary and iPad, ready for note-taking. 

“One thing that we do at Ego is consistency,” Hoseok pulls up a projection of this year’s editions, all carbon copies of the same cover. “And while that is admirable, I want to put my top editors to the test and come up with the theme for next month’s issue.” 

Hoseok sends you yet another pearly white smile, and due to the sheer closeness you know that secret smile is only reserved for you. That makes you squirm in your seat, already feeling the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Take two days off this week to plan. Work out the days you’ll be out of the office with HR, those days you’ll be working in the city, finding ideas and inspiration for the issue. Remember, think outside the box!” Hoseok does a little fist pump, cutting through the air like his life depends on it. 

The whole lot of the group continues to stare at Hoseok, waiting for his next instructions. Then, the adults begin to panic, similar to a high school class that’s been told they have a pop quiz that’s worth half their grade. You sigh internally, you suppose high school never ends. 

“C’mon,” Hoseok urges, flailing his arms around, “get out there! Make moves, make money!” 

But the only moves you’ve made since 2PM are fleeting trips to the bathroom. 

Obviously you don’t have any memory of your degree or experience, so instead of feeling like an editor you feel more like a teenager playing dress-up. You couldn’t even sneakily ask Jennie for help because she deadpanned: “I’m not sharing any secrets, doll.” It seems that being backhandedly mean is a theme in your relationship, so after that you rolled your eyes and locked your door. Thankfully you packed a pair of sweatpants so you can comfortably lie down on the floor while you spread out your workspace. Magazines littered the hardwood, all sultry and sexy looking models staring back at you with the same half-lidded stare and overdone makeup. 

It makes you cringe, thinking back to the other day when you were jealous of these people. Now that you have this life, thriving and full of beauty, is that the only thing you want to show to your audience? How can they possibly relate to models who make triple their salary? What about the authenticity? The ingenuity? 

And that’s when it hits you. 

Scrambling to your computer, you search up a photographer that you know will be completely and utterly transparent. 

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

You know exactly what you want for next month’s issue. 

Jungkook does not expect to see you through the peephole of his apartment, fiddling with the threads of your clothes and eyes glued to the ground. He mutters a curse under his breath, jamming his fingers between the metal double lock to swing his head out. He doesn’t even bother to open up all the way, just enough to stick his face out. 

“Jungkook, hi!” he still can’t believe you’re around. Jungkook winces at your tone, high and sounding like a teenager. He thought by now you’d be traveling the world, climbing to bigger and better things. Then again, the upper part of the city is certainly an upgrade. He just thought you’d want to be far, far away from him. “I b-brought you McDonalds.” 

You hold up a greasy bag of fast food, and his nose immediately responds to the smell of fresh fries and a quarter pounder (with cheese, of course.) It annoys him that you still know his weakness, but he isn’t going to go that easily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks a little too sharply, hands gripping the doorknob. 

“I wanted to offer you a job,” you get straight to the point, as if you know your time at his doorstep is limited. 

He scoffs, “You? Want to put my photos on Ego? You know my business extends to weddings and the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Why would you want me?” 

You frown, crossing your arms. He looks down at your attire, a nicely fitted suit on top, but the skirt is replaced with grey sweatpants. Comical, really. “I’ve always loved your photos,” you admit to him, “you know that. And they’ve gotten so much better since then.” 

The furrow between Jungkook’s brows softens a fraction, smoothed by the honesty in your voice. You’re right, you always made sure to tell Jungkook how much you loved his other talents. Namely, the photography, and sometimes his singing. He can still remember how easily you slept in his arms watching Sky City for hours, all at the melody of your favorite song. While his teachers and classmates loved to venerate his position on the team and his ability to garner attention, you encouraged him to work on the things that mattered to him the most, even in secret. 

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

“I don’t need your charity,” he spits, “Jimin might be able to be bought by some designer clothes and an eighty dollar steak, but not me.” 

The pain in your gaze is glaringly evident, and you don’t even try to hide that you’re upset as the paper bag falls against your lap. If there’s one thing Jungkook knows he’s good at, is hurting your feelings. 

“You think this is charity?” you whisper, hurt delicately lacing your voice. 

“Are you kidding? Last month you got Xu Minghao to photograph your spread for Ego. He’s photographed the damn Queen of England,” if you notice that he’s babbling about reading your magazine, you don’t show it in your face, “the point is, I don’t understand why you’re trying to come into my life again. I don’t want to get involved in your fancy dinner galas or anyone else from high school. So please, just go back to your picture perfect life.” 

And without another qualm he slams the door in your face, effectively shutting you out. It doesn’t feel as good as he wants it to feel, clearly. He feels even shitter than before. His eyes glaze over to his rickety coffee table, cluttered with bills and credit card payments that should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. 

He slugs himself over to his couch, throwing his body over the couch that’s way too short. His legs dangle in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunset. The bills can wait a little longer. Seeing you was too draining. 

The nap turns into a full-fledged night’s sleep, and by the time he wakes up the sky is dark and it’s the start of a new day. 12:08, the screen of his iPhone confirms. Feeling even crustier and worse than before, his stomach decides to harden the blow and go straight for the gut. He’s sorely reminded of the food you offered him hours ago. 

Quickly pulling on a large denim jacket, he grabs his keys and heads for the 7-Eleven down the park. Nothing like a frozen pizza to fill the gut, fast and cheap. Despite the fact that it’s dark and late, there're still some stray people in the park. A few homeless, some high school stoners who are meeting in secret, and you are typing away on your MacBook. 

Wait, what? 

You’re sitting on a bench in the park, typing away without a care in the world. Shoving soggy fries that he earlier refused in your mouth, you let a couple stray potatoes hang from your lips as your eyes succumb to the screen. You look positively silly, still in a pink blazer and baggy sweatpants. 

He must have been staring a little too long, because soon enough you turn your head, gasping at his figure. You quickly avert your eyes, but don’t make any move to leave the park. That interests him further. 

Shamelessly, he calls your name. His legs get to you in an instant, towering over your tiny figure. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m waiting for Jimin,” your eyes flicker to your open laptop, “and working.” 

At least one of those reasons is a lie. Last time he checked, Jimin always sleeps over at Yoongi’s house on this day. He knows it’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie, but neither of you make the effort to correct it. 

“And what could you possibly be working on at 12AM?” 

“Finding a photographer,” you hunch over your laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have much time and none of my usual contacts are good enough. This project is… personal.” 

It makes him want to ask further, he can’t lie and say he isn’t intrigued in the kind of vision you’re going for in your next issue. “But why can’t you work at home?” 

“Don’t wanna go,” you reply casually, “it makes me feel lonely.” 

Lonely? You feel lonely? He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the display of nonchalance. Back in high school he always encouraged you to feel confident, but not like this. “Hey, it’s nice that you feel comfortable enough to chill in the park at 12AM, but it’s really dumb. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten mugged from all that money you’re carrying around!” he gestures to your fancy clothes and laptop, “and if you feel so lonely, call up one of your rich friends I’m sure they’ll—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you slam your laptop shut, darkening the two of you. “I thought you wanted me to go back to my ‘picture perfect life’, so why do you care?” you get up in his face, standing on the bench so you’re nearly eye-to-eye, “why don’t you pester those kids over there? Tell them to drink their milk and go home,” you scoff, shoving your stuff in your bag. You don’t spare him another glance as you stalk off in the other direction. 

He groans, unable to untangle himself from the mess, “Where are you going?” 

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

Despite the exchange for sweatpants, you’re still wearing shoes not fit for walking. They’re little white pumps, not too tall but not remarkably comfy either. However, that doesn’t deter you from getting the heck out of there, seemingly walking in any possible direction to get away from Jungkook. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he chastises once his hand clasps around your hand, pulling you around. 

There’s a little resistance, as you try to hide your face to no avail. Jungkook fumbles a little, not thinking you’d be crying. But tiny, shy tears are pooling around your eyes, looking flustered at your display of emotion.

“God,” you mutter to yourself, “I feel like such a kid.” 

That strikes a chord in the twenty-something man. The last time he saw you in the flesh was when you were both kids. Young, unbridled, and stupid. Well, only Jungkook was the stupid one. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Jungkook offers, feeling guilty about his roughness. 

You shake your head. “No, I told you I don’t want to.” 

“Can I at least call you a cab? Or a friend so you won’t get lonely?” 

“Jungkook, if I had that option would you think I’d be here right now?” he’s trying, he really is. But you’re equally as miffed about this whole situation and at a loss. The two of you engage in a staring contest. It only takes a few seconds for you to crumble, and he frowns when you shiver in your thin blazer. 

Instantly, he rips off his jacket, pulling it over your body. It’s huge on you, swallowing your body and hopefully containing some of his residual heat. 

And finally, he relents. “If you want, I’ll come over and stay until you fall asleep.” 

“Okay,” your eyes widen in instant agreement, pulling something out of your pocket. “Will you drive?” 

His eyes widen at the shiny, minimalistic car key. Your sudden one-eighty has him second guessing his decision. “You drive a Tesla?” he gapes, taking your key like he’s holding the Hope Diamond. 

You got your license in February. One month ago, and only because the instructor felt pity on you since it was your second time retaking it. The fancy car terrifies you, and you’re sure Jungkook has much more experience driving (over ten years worth.)  

You shrug, “Not very good at driving. Haven’t had much practice.”

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

“It does?” you tilt your head, dazed, “wow, technology is amazing.” 

He shakes his head, putting a hand on your back so you can lead the way. You must be tired, because it seems like your head isn’t entirely there anymore. He takes charge, buckles you in and takes a couple minutes to fumble with the car settings. Nevertheless the drive home is smooth (and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to not squeal in excitement when the Tesla does in fact, drive itself.) 

You lead him inside your loft like a tiny zombie, throwing your shoes to one corner and throwing your jacket on the kitchen table. 

“Must be hungry,” you can’t even form complete sentences, “there’s food in the fridge, Kook. Sorry if it’s not to your taste.” 

Shuffling away to your room, Jungkook is left to gawk at your apartment. The baseboards of your walls are crusted in pretty pearl designs, swirling around the whole expanse. There’s a television that stretches the wall of the little living room, with a sound and video game system he’s only seen in movies. Your tables are meters and meters of granite, and he wonders how the floor of your apartment can hold all this weight. 

But he supposes it’s because there’s nothing much to hold. No pictures line the walls, only vague looking art to fill up blank space. There’s no touch of warmth despite the heating system under the floor that relaxes his toes. For such a big home, he can only imagine how small you must feel in it. 

Your fridge is just as empty, decorated with a couple of sad-looking salads and some protein shakes. He sighs, grabbing two chicken salads and a banana shake and bringing it to your coffee table. It’s a little two quiet for his liking, so he turns on the television real low just to make the room feel a bit fuller. 

Halfway through one salad he realizes he probably should’ve made you eat as well. Even though these salads aren’t remotely filling, they’re much healthier than some soggy fries. A piece of limp lettuce hangs from Jungkook’s mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for soaking up all of your amenities without inviting you. After all, it is your house. Wiping some sauce from his lips he dusts off his pants, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he makes his way to your room. 

Calling your name, the only reply is the whir of the heater. He only cracks the door a tad, but he sees you slumped against the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging from the end. You barely made it, your clothes strewn across the floor, an oversized t-shirt ruched across your barely covered thighs. Without a thought he quickly scrambles to move you closer to your pillows, and then wraps your body in your plush duvet. You’re out like a light. 

You’re sleeping, so Jungkook should go home. That’s what you two agreed to. He goes back to his late dinner (early breakfast?) mindlessly listening to an infomercial on rare dollar coins. He’ll leave after he eats. 

He didn’t leave. 

Jungkook awakes to a scream, your shrill voice echoing all the way down the hallway into your living room. It takes a second for him to register the empty white walls and the fact that he’s not in his apartment, but eventually it goes back to the point that you’re in distress. He jolts, scrambling off the couch to run to your bedroom. 

“What is it?” he exhales into your doorframe, socks sliding. 

Your hair is in a disarray, shirt rumpled and face scrunched in pain. You shove your phone in his face. “Since when did Iron Man die!” you cry, genuinely horrified at whatever entertainment article you’re reading. 

He slumps against the wall, running a hand over his dry face. “Since Endgame, obviously. That was literally two years ago. Is that why you woke me up?” 

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

“Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Or something,” you frown, throwing your phone across your bed, “I guess I should go get ready for work.” 

Jungkook watches as you shamelessly hop off your bed, uncaring that your shirt has ridden up, revealing the full expanse of your thighs and then some. You pull out a pair of sweats from a shopping bag, nicking off the tag to put them on your legs. 

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

“Uh, no,” Jungkook coughs, crossing his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s had a solid gig. Two whole weeks have been spent doing more personal work which was fine, but at the same time his bank account could beg to differ. “I’m off today.” 

“Oh, alright,” you shrug, “do you know where I can buy a good camera?” 

“Why?” 

“Gonna go take pictures,” you snatch your wallet and keys from your bedside, stuffing it in a fanny pack. He watches you curiously as you zip your bag shut, muttering something about how you can’t believe that fanny packs are back in style. Swinging the strap over your back, you brush past him. “You can stay if you want,” you add pointedly, before you slip into the bathroom. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand as to why he’s slipping into sensory overload. The house is a shell of itself and the antithesis of a rainbow. Maybe it’s the fact that he woke up ten minutes ago or how you look completely peaceful and want to leave as soon as you wake up. Or how shocked you were that Iron Man has passed and you’ve completely missed Phase 3. Or that you’re not even thinking about breakfast or not wishing him a farewell, practically throwing him into your apartment like a second home. 

He wobbles back to the couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he drapes the fuzzy blankets over his body. He flips through the channels, before finally settling on an old episode of Sky City. 

When you walk out into the living room, you scrunch your face in pain when you make eye contact with Kim Seokjin’s on screen appearance. Oh, how things change. Jungkook knew how much you loved watching Sky City, indulging in the protagonist's attractiveness. 

“Y’know,” Jungkook says over his shoulder, “if you leave me here, I could steal whatever I want.” 

“Go ahead,” you reply flippantly, already slipping on your sneakers. “There’s nothing of value here.” 

What is wrong with you? 

“Wait!” Jungkook throws all his pride at the window, unable to conceal his worry for you. Half your body is out the doorway, and you’re looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His voice takes up the entirety of the room, startling you. “I need to come with you,” he finally settles on, looking serious. “You’re going to buy the wrong camera.” 

“Okay,” you concede immediately, throwing the keys on the couch, “you drive.”

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

You don’t know how to act around him. Your heart is hurt and your body is a decade older than it was a week ago and everything in your life and mind is a complete wreck. It still aches to look at him, despite the fact that you want him around, all the time. You wish you could know a little more about your adult life, you feel like a proverbial Bambi sitting in a car worth more than your childhood home. It’s a wobbly, shaky road to adulthood, and you’re not having it. 

Jungkook sleeping over is the last thing you thought would happen last night. You didn’t even think he’d relent to coming to your house, since he was pretty hellbent on not being your photographer. 

But now he’s driving your Tesla again, after you instructed him to park the car where you parked it last time. That way, you can go back to the playground you were in the night before. You have a vision for the issue and it starts there. Fiddling around with the expensive camera Jungkook picked out, you feel his gaze burning into your shoulder. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” you ask archly, “I read the manual and everything. Or are you just being a perfectionist again?” 

“What’s wrong with being a perfectionist?” Jungkook shoots back, putting the car in park. As soon as the car stills in the parking lot, he grabs the camera from your grasp like a petulant child. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break it. Face it, you’re terrible at technology.” 

“Excuse me! I have a Samsung 25+ and a Tesla!” 

“Yeah? So why did I catch you struggling to use your pay feature on your phone when we grabbed coffee?” 

“It’s new,” you mutter under your breath. Everything is new to you. 

With a growl you snatch back the camera, and Jungkook for once doesn’t act like a baby with a sharing complex and relents. Of course, Jungkook manages to calibrate the camera and figure out the color balance before you could. This only annoys you further, wondering why Jungkook is still sticking around after all this time. 

“Alright,” you step out of the car, slinging the camera around your neck. “Thanks for driving me around, your apartment’s just down the street, right?” You dart your hand out, and Jungkook reluctantly hands over your key beeper. Maybe it’s because he seems to love the car so much, that he has a hard time giving it back. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait,” is that his word of the day? Wait wait wait. 

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

He’s never seen you so full of negative emotions. You’ve been waiting for him to tire of you all day, from your clipped replies and unease ever since you two stepped out of your apartment. 

“Um,” he looks embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, “are you really going to take pictures? You always took really blurry pictures in high school.” 

The mention of high school has you icy, gripping the matte black digital camera to hold your feelings at bay. “Yes, I’m going to go take pictures because the photographer I wanted so rudely rejected me,” you revel in the way he shrinks, probably regretful already. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline.” 

He continues to follow you, all the way to the park. You make your way to a little garden, and start to take some test photos next to the little daisies that decorate the patch of dirt. You practically feel Jungkook breathing down your neck, feeling antsy everytime you click the shutter. Ignoring him is difficult, especially when he makes little noises of discomfort when you presumably do something wrong. 

“Jungkook, are you going to say something?” you seethe, not caring that the heavy camera strains your neck when it falls against your chest, “or are you just going to make me wait.”

Jungkook’s face is scrunched up, and finally he blurts, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

“For saying your life is picture perfect,” he sputters quickly, looking very sweaty. Jungkook always got sweaty when he did things a little too hard. Playing sports, thinking, campaigning on video games. “I—I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I guess I was just upset at myself and I took it out on you.” 

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

“I’m upset because I—I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he plops down on the nearest bench, and while you follow him, you don’t let yourself sit next to him. If you do, you know your subconscious will want to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. That would probably be the worst possible action to perform. “I don’t really do the whole photoshoot thing. Like I said, I’m just doing some weddings and parties here and there. I shouldn’t have said those things about Jimin and how you’re only talking to us out of charity. It’s my fault for not considering how complicated your life could be too,” he looks down at the ground, shameful, “so if you still want me, I would really like to photograph for Ego. And I would also really like that camera back.” 

Unable to resist, you reach over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “I forgive you,” you reply numbly, thinking he was going to apologize for something else. You suppose he’s forgotten about that fateful prom night, just like everyone else. “It’s actually not for Ego, at least not yet. My boss is pitting us against each other, the best idea wins the cover theme.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll win,” his face eventually breaks into a grin when you remove the camera from your body. “Come to daddy, baby,” he cooes, holding the shiny new camera in his hands like a newborn. 

“Gross,” you twitch, although you’re feeling all the more relieved knowing Jungkook will now be taking the visual reins. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the contract made up, but being paid five-hundred okay?” 

“Five-hundred a week?” 

“No, per day,” you correct, “why wouldn’t I pay you just like I pay the others?” 

Jungkook’s dark brows fly to his forehead. He practically chokes on his spit at the way you put Jungkook in high regard. A blush overtakes his visage, proud and pink as he rushes to get away from you. 

“You don’t even know my concept,” you called after him, chasing the midday sun. 

Jungkook is already in position, fitting the lens between two buildings. The afternoon sun looks like an egg yolk, melting between the clouds. “Well then is it?” he asks, bending down on one knee to get the perfect angle. 

“Well, yesterday when I thought of the idea I just wanted to be reminded of how easy being a kid was,” you don’t even know if Jungkook’s listening properly, given the rapid click click clicks of the shutter and Jungkook constantly moving around to get as many shots as possible. “I realized that not everyone can relate to the models or the clothes we advertise on Ego. Why would I want to see people I actually admire? Like, my friend’s older brother. Or Jimin, president of the drama club. Or even Jungkook, captain of the lacrosse team.” 

“So, nostalgia. The 2000s are back in style, I like it,” he replies simply, tilting the camera towards you, “pose for me.” 

“What? Jungkook,” you frown, holding a hand over your face. He doesn’t relent, continuing to snap you in different angles. 

“Oh! That was a nice one,” he turns the camera to reveal the screen of your furrowed brows, hand over your face, “looks super grunge. Totally a throwback look.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t model. I’m just the one who throws the ideas.” 

“Yeah, but. Wouldn’t it be cool if the readers of Ego could see the genius behind the paper and ink?” he gestures vaguely to your outfit, “and you’re wearing Fila. So that’s like, kind of designer?” 

“I don’t know,” you hug yourself, “I’ll think about it, okay? Let’s focus.” 

“Fine,” Jungkook stops buzzing around you, putting the camera down and following you as you walk back to your car. You don’t think you really need anymore park photos, and Jungkook seems to telepathically agree as well. 

“We need to plan some outfits and some backgrounds. I’ve already arranged a meet up tomorrow in front of our old high school with a couple of models. The school is on a grade-wide trip, so we’ll even have access to the track and field. I was also thinking disposable film? We could scan those.” 

“Alright, who are your models?” 

“Oh, you know. Just friends from school. I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. Taehyung flew back from Hamburg last night, so he said he’ll come. Jimin, obviously.” 

“Well you only had like, two friends in highschool.” 

“And you,” you clip on with a frown, “so don’t dress like a potato sack tomorrow, okay?” 

“I’m not modeling.” 

“Well, I’m still looking for a celebrity model to tack onto so. Don’t look like a chump.” you stick out your hand, while Jungkook pouts at your outstretched limb. If he feels sore that you called him a chump, he doesn’t comment on it when he clasps his larger hand in yours. “Partners?”

“Partners.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me your celebrity model was him?” 

“I specifically told you not to dress like a paper bag. Why did you continue to do so!” 

“You didn’t specify that your model was Kim Seokjin!” 

The current conversation is hushed, hissed between large reflective light panels and a parked car that held all your rented equipment. Currently, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin are huddled on the bleachers of your old stomping grounds, laughing at whatever funny video Seokjin has pulled up. They’re all dressed in variants of the same sweatsuit, a combination of Taehyung’s choosing since he’s one of the many color coordinators at Ego. 

But you haven’t started yet, and you would like to get some morning shots in before it gets any warmer. Jungkook is still petulant, pretending to buy time by balancing his tripod. He’s wearing his Birkenstocks, so old they’re definitely the same pair from highschool, and yet another black sweatsuit. 

“Seokjin’s like a big, fat cheeseball,” you assure Jungkook, who’s actually shaking from being in the presence of a celebrity. “No reason to be nervous.”

“That man has literally been part of our Sitcom Sundays for three years,” he gripes, “of course I’m nervous!” 

“Just go to the car. If you want to change I’m sure Taehyung’s brought something that fits you.”

“Well if they see me change they’re gonna see I’m trying too hard,” Jungkook pouts, he actually pouts. 

“I can’t,” you turn around, your Miss Frizzle-esque solar system dress whirling around your waist. The stars twinkle, glittering into Jungkook’s eyes. “Jungkook, do whatever you want. But we need to start in ten! No, five! I’m not paying you to try on Balenciaga and Off-Brand!” 

If Jungkook is shocked by your sudden snippiness or need to get things wrapped up, he doesn’t say anything to it. For once, he’s quiet about his needs and you’re thankful for it. Once he’s gone, you have a chance to breathe. It’s all wholly overwhelming to dive right into the job. Your brain is still in 2011 unfortunately.

“Babe, everything alright?” 

Seokjin appears behind you, having ditched Jimin and Taehyung after he saw you and Jungkook argue. He smooths his hands over your biceps. You’re still unsure over the exact nature of your adult-self’s relationship, but it seems that sans sex you two are relatively close with each other. 

“M’fine,” you mumble tiredly, trying not to stiffen under his hold. You suppose Jimin isn’t going to be the friend you confide into this lifetime. “I’m just nervous. We’re doing all this work and it can potentially go down the drain after this week. What if my idea’s stupid and we’re wasting time? Jennie texted me that her concept is going to be killer and now I’m scared this concept is too aesthetically soft and people don’t care about nostalgia anymore and I feel like simultaneously throwing up and crying—” 

“Whoa whoa, who’s replaced my confident editor and where did she go?” Seokjin decidedly goes with the notion that you’re definitely not fine. He swings his neck back and forth, peering behind the bleachers and over the football field. “My confident editor would never talk bad of herself like this! She commanded a whole crew of fifty within seconds when she did the Kim Taeyeon shoot in Milan! She never cowers under a challenge, the challenge cowers to her!” and in his gallancy you no longer try to shy away, in fact you even giggle at his silly way of comforting you. “And most importantly, she’d never compare herself to a wench like Jennie.” 

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to swipe the moisture right under your waterline, making sure any traces of your crying are undetectable. “W-wait,” you sputter, “you mean, me and Jennie aren’t actually friends?” 

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Even now, you’re such a good actress.” 

You let Seokjin continue to hold you as the pieces in your empty mind come together. If Jennie is truly not your friend and you two have been faking it all this time, how serious is it? And if so, are you the competitive type? You know for sure Jennie is, and will she stop at nothing to make sure she gets the spread? 

This fear is combined with an equal amount of sadness. You were a little excited to have a lasting friend from college, but your mother always told you to never believe anything on the internet. You suppose those selfies of you and Jennie on your Instagram are nothing but a facade. 

But at the very least Seokjin’s care for you isn’t fake, and you’re thankful that you have at least one friend in this life. If you didn’t do this time skip, would Seokjin remain your only friend? You try not to think too hard about it, “Thanks, Seokjin. I really appreciate you.” 

“Will you appreciate me tonight then?” Seokjin makes a move to kiss your neck, and the moment is promptly ruined. 

Shoving him away you say firmly, “Touch me like that again and I’ll rip your dick off in front of this whole crew.” 

“I love it when you get feisty,” Seokjin melts, but salutes you like a drill sergeant as he runs back to the men on the bleachers. 

It’s then you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. Tall, dark, and emanating. He’s changed, in favor of some fitted jeans and a plain white shirt, paired with black boots. Jungkook is behind you, glaring over your shoulder at Seokjin. So much for showing off your professionalism. Crap, how much of that did he hear? 

“Jungkook, I–”

“Let’s start,” he mutters gruffly, stepping past you to get to the equipment. 

You slap a hand over your face. It’s going to be a long day. 

However, the hours following are probably one of the brightest hours of your life since you’ve appeared in your future-self’s body. At first Jimin was anxious at your invitation, despite being in the high school plays and being okay at public speaking, he didn’t know he’d have the potential to be a model. A couple test shots and some coaching from Taehyung, Jimin is a natural, his photogenic energy strong enough to compete toe-to-toe with Seokjin. 

You also have to hand it to Taehyung, who has been running back and forth between modeling and choosing outfits for the boys. Jimin and you didn’t run in the same group as Taehyung back in high school, but time changes things and if given the opportunity, you would’ve loved to be friends with him back then. 

By the time you are done for the day and you feel like all the possible shots have all ready been taken, you circle around the school. You previously went inside empty classrooms, posed in the cafeteria, even pretended to reenact your school rendition of RENT in the auditorium. 

Everything is mostly packed up and put into the car by the time the sun is setting, and you just wanted to perfect this one shot. 

The gymnasium looks a lot smaller than it did as a child. As a teenager, you constantly feared getting hit in the face by a stray wiffleball, or throwing up during the pacer test after the 100th lap. But now, it just looks like an old gym. 

“It smells like sweaty balls in there,” Taehyung curses, adjusting the patterned button down by smoothing down his chest. He jabs a finger in the boys locker room, where Jimin comes out with another new outfit. 

“I think the sandwich I left in senior year is still there,” Jimin adds, pulling the collar around his burgundy knitted sweater. 

The back of the gym is decorated in balloons. Overnight you managed to build a balloon ring off of Pinterest, one of your proudest moments as you made Jungkook haul the rainbow colored arc and shove it into the trunk. Seokjin is sitting directly under the arc, decorating a letter corkboard. It’s one of those cork boards all the teachers display in class, often decorated with some witty quote or a basic “Welcome to Mr/Mrs/Miss _____’s Class!” 

Jungkook is setting up the camera on a tripod, wanting to do it the old fashioned way. Aside from the freakout he had in the beginning when he realized he was photographing Kim Seokjin, he’s been quiet and strictly professional throughout the whole ordeal. It’s amazing to see this side of him, as he seamlessly transitions from shoot to shoot knowing exactly what he has in mind for each photograph. His direction is soft but impactful, and the boys have no problems following directions. 

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

Working like this is a rush you can’t even imagine. In high school the path you were in the process of choosing wasn’t clear cut up until this point, but now you know exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life. 

Seokjin holds the finished corkboard in the middle, a proud Class of Ego in white block letters. 

Jungkook only gets a few shots in before Seokjin bemoans, letting the corkboard fall in his lap. 

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

“Because you two aren’t in it!” Taehyung agrees easily, “c’mon, JK. Put your camera on timer mode and let’s have all of us in it!” 

A blush melts on Jungkook’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “What? No, that’s silly Tae. I really don’t—agh!” 

The three men are in a controlled frenzy, aiming to get their mission done. Seokjin rounds the camera and makes quick work of enabling a timer and a burst shot. Jimin pulls you by the waist, tugging you ungracefully to the center of the arc. Taehyung is doing a pretty good job of hauling your muscle hunk of a photographer, pressing his shoulders across yours. 

And finally, Seokjin hands you the corkboard. “You should be holding it. After all, you’re the brains behind it!” 

At first it feels awkward, squished between new friends and old friends. First loves and last loves. Despite his warm bicep pressing against you, Jungkook is akin to a sheet of cardboard, arm-to-arm and stiff as a board. 

“Alright people, let’s move it!” Seokjin yells unnecessarily loud, the noise echoing throughout the high walls. “Last couple shots here, and we’re not re-doing it because I’m tired as hell! So look alive and pretend to like each other!” 

The first click of the camera stuns all of you, akin to many terrible school photos where the flash disarms you and your face twists. But that click suddenly gets Jungkook into gear, and you feel him slide a hand over your shoulder, squeezing you toward him so you’re pressed against the side of his chest. He still smells like floral fabric softener, and that makes you smile. 

And suddenly you feel like you’re seventeen again, surrounded with the people you care for the most. 

“So, the tabloids are true huh?” Jimin smirks, waving a flimsy fry in your face. 

“T-tabloids?” you sputter, dabbing the ketchup off your cheek. The greasy burger slips off your grip and onto your plate.  Your expression says it all, it’s painfully innocent and genuinely confused as you attempt to swallow the cheese and lettuce as fast as possible. 

The crew sans Seokjin is eating a very late dinner with you at the restaurant of their choice. They put it to a vote, while you desperately wanted some McDonalds everyone else voted for a more high end restaurant. After all, you’re paying. 

“Ah, don’t try playing coy with us,” Taehyung jests, “the office talks.” 

“Well, whatever you’ve heard isn’t true,” you huff, crossing your arms. “At least, not anymore.” 

“What?” Taehyung bugs out, “I thought you loved your no strings attached relationship with Jinnie.” 

“I guess I did,” you frown, deflating against the plush booth, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I liked back then.” 

You resume eating your burger, trying to ignore the worried look Jimin sends you. He reaches over the table to press his thumb to the little 11s in your forehead, a product of stress. “Does your head still hurt?” he asks. 

Jungkook’s chewing slows considerably. He’s been strangely quiet this evening, opting to order a handful of appetizers and gorging on every single edible thing on the table like a glutton. But at Jimin’s question he turns his head to look at you, “Why would your head still hurt?” 

“She hit her head when she went out drinking with Seokjin last week,” Jimin supplies, “messed with her memory.” 

“Chim,” you frown, gently shoving him off you, “I’m fine now. Pretty much caught up. Just reevaluating my life choices, okay?” 

“How could Seokjin let that happen?” Jungkook asks, putting his fork down. 

“He wasn’t even there,” you shake your head, trying to clear Seokjin’s name as fast as possible. After all, this lie is completely fabricated, a blanket to cover the magical properties your true nature being here has. “I’m fine, Jungkook. Don’t worry about me.” 

He huffs, resuming his meal. “Wasn’t worried,” he disarms, reaching over the table to snatch a mozzarella stick. 

You cover up your disgusted expression by wiping your chin with a soft blue napkin. Jungkook is really out here inhaling the whole table and being a bit of a jerk. 

“Well,” Taehyung claps his hands together, regarding all of you with a closed-lipped smile stretched so wide you’re worried he’ll break. “This is nice. I can’t imagine a time where I’d be reunited with you three. It’s weird. But a good weird.” 

“Ditto,” Jimin echoes, lifting his glass to clink with Taehyung’s. Throwing an arm over your shoulder he remarks, “could’ve never imagined my ‘ol best friend would’ve wanted to pursue fashion.” 

“What?” you glower, pinching his thigh, “I love fashion! I spent months planning my Clueless Halloween costume and our summers cosplaying!” 

“Right, Cher,” teased Jimin, “that yellow plaid suit that made you look like a bottle of mustard?” 

“You little–” 

Taehyung begins to laugh when you start to tickle Jimin in the sweet spots, causing Jimin to curl his leg around your ankle and pull you onto his lap for a hair pull. It’s all in fun and nothing hurts, but you’re so caught up in it you’re sure people are worried about your well-being. Even Jungkook is laughing, egging Jimin on while Taehyung weakly attempts to pull you away. 

If you could rewrite the last ten years of your life, this moment would define the remake. 

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

“Are you sure the actual purpose is because you don’t feel like working in the office?” 

“Jungkook,” you groan, tired of his infinite amount of negativity. “This was our senior trip! Of course I want to get a couple shots in before my big presentation.” 

“You’re risking my baby’s life,” Jungkook cradles the digital camera closer to his chest, swaddling it between its felt case. Ever since you purchased the camera, Jungkook has been unable to let it go. This adoption is both equal parts cute and strange, and you’re a little too scared to ask for it back. 

“I promise, no big rides,” you roll your eyes, “your baby will be fine.” 

The local amusement park is a fan-favorite amongst the city-goers, a reprieve from the hustle and a chance for you to spend your copious amounts of money on overpriced sugar and popcorn. The last time you went here was two weeks ago—in your mind. In Jungkook’s mind it was over ten years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember the time spent roaming the artificial floor and the infinite amount of bubbles that seem to eject from the air to add to the whimsical charm. 

Jungkook isn’t even paying attention, citing it as an artist block because he’s going through sensory overload with the amount of stimuli in the crowd. Screaming teenagers wailing under him from a nearby rollercoaster, the smell of sticky caramel apples pumping through the diffuser stands, and the amount of gaudy color that decorates every single logo of the park. 

He plops himself down on a nearby bench while you wait in line to get some food. It’s early in the morning and a weekday, so you figure this is the best time to get some photographs in without any passerbys. You figure Jungkook will get the hang of it once he has some food in his stomach. 

“A funnel cake?” Jungkook is bewildered when you return with the confection in hand, “it’s ten A.M.” 

You raise a brow, knowing how much Jungkook loves sweet foods. The funnel cake especially, he ate at least three when you went to your senior trip, one for every meal. But you’re an adult, or at least posing as one, and you shrug loftily, plucking a hot piece of fried dough from your plate. “Alright then,” you reply, “I’ll just eat the whole thing.” 

Once the cake touches your tongue, you can’t help but make an exaggerated moan in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook squirming like an earthworm next to you, either from the scrumptious smell of funnel cake or the way you’re so enthusiastically eating it. 

“W-wait,” Jungkook’s stomach growls at the perfect moment, “I want some. But I don’t want to get the camera dirty, pass me a napkin.” 

“I can just feed it to you!” you quip innocently, immediately ripping off a piece and shoving it between Jungkook’s pink lips. You feel a little slick in the finger, saliva briefly coating your digits before you pull away. You swallow, feeling a familiar tingle in your tummy and a sickening heat low in your belly. 

You fight back a sigh, wondering if your libido also did a massive growth spurt in your twenty-seven years of age. 

Jungkook is placated at the touch of food, and you take turns feeding yourself and feeding him while more customers trickle in the park. Confectioners sugar dusts Jungkook’s long-sleeved tee, the white color staining the dark fabric. You reach to pat his chest, ignoring the toneness that still remains from high school. 

“Alright, let’s ride,” you declare, pulling Jungkook up once you’re done eating. 

“Do we have to?” 

“What happened to the adrenaline junkie I once knew?” 

“He realized being an adrenaline junkie doesn’t make money and he should stay on the ground.” 

“Alright, Negative Nancy,” your reply has no bite to it, and suddenly you wished you invited Jimin or Seokjin before Jungkook. Jungkook may have the talent, but he certainly doesn’t have the attitude. You don’t even get why he’s still defensive, after all you thought he apologized in the beginning. It’s not like you’re the problem. 

“Gimmie your hand,” your thoughts cut out when Jungkook offers his large hand in front of yours, palm up. 

“Why?”

“C’mon,” he whines, settling for snatching your hand instead. His palms feel larger, rougher as they enclose your smaller hand. “Now hurry up and walk in front of me. I’m gonna take a picture.” 

You already have a feeling as to what this picture is going to look like, so you scrunch your nose. “That is so cheesy.” 

“It’s for the nostalgia factor, now hurry up and pretend we’re on a date.” 

You roll your eyes but relent, jogging a few steps ahead so you can get into character. This pose used to be a popular one, where the sweet boyfriend would be dragged around by the girlfriend’s hand, tugging him to wherever she wanted to go. It’s super cliche but if Jungkook figures it’ll fit your theme, you’ll do it. Eventually you forget that you’re holding his hand, and point ahead to some rides you want to try out. 

“Oh, Jungkook! Remember that one?” you point to a teacup ride, with guests spinning vigorously through their own seat. “Jimin got so sick he fell asleep in the car for an hour!” 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, so you turn around and face him. Click. Jungkook smirks at his little trick, which makes you rip your hand from his and walk further. 

“Hey, hey,” he chuckles, the first smile of the day. Food really does make him peaceful. “The shot looks good, you look good.” 

“Could’ve just asked me to turn around and pose,” you huff. 

“Then it would ruin the fun,” he replies, “now c’mon, let’s ride the teacups. For old time’s sake.” 

Ten minutes later and the both of you are soon regretting that decision. You’re once again slumped on the bench, this time unable to keep your head up so you rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder while he leans on your head. 

“Haven’t rode that since I was a teenager,” Jungkook moans, holding his stomach. “Remind me not to eat so fast before getting on that kind of ride.” 

You mirror his expression, feeling green. “Is this what late-adult life feels like?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook replies, unbeknownst of how shocked you are at how weak your body has become. “You wake up with back pain, pre-arthritis from all the typing you’ve done over the last decade, and a lot of stress. Definitely not the fantasy you’d imagine from your 20s.” 

“You think you’d be less stressed if you kept your lacrosse scholarship?” 

“Nah, I think I saved myself,” Jungkook shakes his head, “before I could be any more awful than I already was.” 

You refuse that notion, sending him a bitter smile. “Well, look at me. I became awful right after high school.” 

“I didn’t mean you—”

“I know,” you hold up a hand to stop him. The two of you follow a red path up the hill, leading to a simple cable car ride. It’s a slow travel ride, made to get from one side of the park to the other with a beautiful view over the lake. “But you see those tabloid articles. They must be true.” 

“I—I didn’t think they were all true,” Jungkook’s lying through his teeth to make you feel better, but you don’t care. “Why do you sound unsure?” 

You shrug, “Probably wasn’t sober for most of my bad decisions,” considering your friendship with Seokjin and his boisterous drinking attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised, “If they weren’t true, I believe Jimin and I would’ve stayed friends. I can’t imagine why I left my home like that. But I guess it doesn’t matter too much because I came back. And I mean, we’re here together doing work,” you gesture between the small space between each other, “I think that counts for something.”  

The two of you walk in silence for a bit, contemplating. The line to the cable car isn’t long but it’s slow, considering the cable only moves a couple meters a second. The take-off area is a risen slab of concrete, and the cars are continuously moving so you have to hop on one car as soon as another guest exits. 

There’s a little bit of space between it, a centimeter gap that could be nerve wracking if there’s no staff around. You think nothing of it as you fiddle on your phone, waiting for the staff member to let you and Jungkook in on the next car. 

Jungkook enters first, taking great care to cradle the camera in one hand so it doesn’t sway against the car. The car swings a little as well, and Jungkook holds out a hand for you to grab. 

Instead you focus on how the once bright glassy pink is sun-ravished, faded and rusting on the metal door flaps. The color is almost pearlescent, vastly different than the vivid color you saw two weeks ago. You almost want to reach out and touch it, wondering where that quality went. 

“Bun, be careful!” 

The tip of your heel nicks on the stepping stone, slipping like butter as you topple forward. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hauling you into the car just as the metal door locks into place. The hard plastic of the camera digs into your chest uncomfortably as you plop on top of Jungkook, between his legs as half his thighs rest against the uncomfortable seat. 

“Were you not watching where you were going?” Jungkook huffs, blowing his bangs over his forehead. 

Instead of an artful answer you blurt, “You, you called me Bun.” 

His eyes widen at your response, and his grip loosens around your body. His eyes dart anywhere but your face, his cheeks ruddied and stained coral as he moves to remove you from his body. “It was a slip of the tongue,” he coughs, turning on his camera and getting shots of the lake. 

You huff in response, sticking to your side of the carriage. “I missed it,” you murmur to the wind, although you make yourself loud enough for him to hear. 

You try to bury your sour expression in your sleeves, just to hide how absolutely childish you feel. You don’t even care that Jungkook is trying to take pictures of you looking out the view, only trying to eradicate the feelings that are still down deep in your blood. Even the twenty-seven year old Jungkook is charming, albeit in a completely different way. 

The grown, mature Jungkook toots to his own horn. He isn’t concerned about a team or an image, and gave it all up to pursue an art he loves. The lacrosse jerseys exchanged for bulky long sleeves, the sport for a camera, and a mask for his true image. 

“Let’s go,” Jungkook takes your hand again when the ride stops, not letting go until you’re on steady ground. You figure he must think you walk like a toddler barely on her first mile. 

Would Jungkook like you even as an adult? With all this money, this power and this confidence you envisioned as a seventeen-year-old, it still doesn’t feel enough for him. In fact, you feel like a sore thumb sticking out, decorated in silly rumors and expensive clothes that separate you far from your roots. 

“Hey,” Jungkook touches your arm, pointing to a basketball carnival game, “remember this one?” 

“Yeah,” forcing a smile, you follow him to the small crowd that starts to form around the basketball game. The baskets are a short distance from the player, but so high up that it’s hard to tell the shape of the hoop. “I tried to tell you that it was completely rigged. From an angle you can see it’s still oval-shaped.” 

“And I told you it didn’t matter if the hoop was an octagon, I’d get you that prize,” he jerks a thumb to the prize booth, where a blue Piplup plush sits proudly with all the other starter Pokemon. “And I did.” 

“It’s still in my room,” you reply proudly, even though Jungkook is acting almost immaturely smug. “I, I mean it’s still in my room in my parent’s house. It’s probably lonely because my parents have been on a cruise for almost two weeks.” 

He raises a brow, eyes drifting to the booth. “Should I win another one to keep your bed in the city warm?” 

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

“You know what I mean,” and Jungkook’s rolling up his sleeves, handing you the camera. 

“Jungkook,” you whine when he pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket, as if he prepared for this moment, “Jungkook c’mon—I don’t need any stuffed animals. Ugh.” 

You swear that the majority of your day is spent watching Jungkook blow cash on a low-quality stuffed animal with packaging pellets for the inside. Turns out carnival technology has also enhanced over the years, and it takes both your whining and the clerk’s whining to stop Jungkook from blowing his entire wallet to get one basket in. Eventually the staff relents and lets Jungkook take a Piplup keychain instead, glumly handing it over to you. 

“I like this better,” you chirp, clipping the ring onto your car keys, “now I can bring Piplup everywhere.” 

A small, barely there smile appears on Jungkook’s face. 

The rest of the day melts away like that, and before you know it the sun is slipping into the horizon and you’re being dropped off at your apartment. Jungkook even insists to walk you to your door, because your prizes are heavy. (Yes, he went back for the oversized Piplup.) 

It’s all too familiar, the way the walk upstairs is achingly slow, as if the moment is stretching itself down the hallway. How Jungkook looks so prideful holding the fruits of his labor, following you with a tug of your hand because the prize is too big for Jungkook to see straight. 

At the same time it’s different. The way you wobble around the hallway because you’re a little tipsy from wine flights is noticeable, even cute. How easy it is to not feel nervous when you clutch at his hand. How you two look like a seasoned couple, coming home from an all-day date. 

It ends at the front door, and you crack it open so you can slip your prizes through the crack. 

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you hold up the SD card that held all the precious memories of this week. 

This is where you part ways. You’ll spend the rest of the night editing your presentation, while Jungkook promised to go to a bar with his friends. A little part of you hoped you’d be invited, but you knew that would be impractical considering you have work in the morning. 

“Break a leg,” he says, leaning on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets, “you’ll do great. You’ve always been meant to do great things.” 

The investment he lays on you is insurmountable, and you feel yourself flush with simultaneous excitement and anxiety. Unknowing how to calm your nerves, you give him a small “thank you” and put your hand on the knob to slip away. 

“Wait—” 

You blink, a deer in the headlights as Jungkook swoops down and kisses you. 

You’ve received kisses—kisses reserved for a twenty-seven year old, before. Seokjin is an eager lover, and you felt it that fateful morning and even during your photoshoot when he tried to be sneaky and pull you away. Fleeting bites, kisses to the neck that are wet and hot.

Jungkook’s kiss does not feel like that. It feels like home. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, wrapping yourself in an old afghan and a hot cup of tea. The feeling of hot laundry, fresh front the dryer and smelling of floral softener. It tastes like ten years lost in a void, returning to your senses and lighting you up.

He holds you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. Large hands cup your face, like a precious thing he never wants to let go. Your hands can do nothing but grapple after his, nails digging into his skin. 

“Good night, Jungkook,” you send him a lovestruck smile, a puppy love face. 

“Good bye, Bun,” he replies simply, jogging down the hallway. 

Being twenty-seven starts to feel a little more like heaven. 

Jennie used to annoy you in high school, but now she just down right scares you. 

Her presentation is one straight out of a thriller, with red shadow lights and neon green splattered in the dark room. Her models are intense, her designs are beautiful but overwhelmingly chaotic, and the whole affair is rather grotesque. The headline Fashion Suicide glares at you in a morbid scarlet font. 

Hoseok sends her a tight-lipped smile, and presses a button on his desk. “I need my antacids, Krystal,” Hoseok deadpans. 

Nothing betrays Jennie’s wicked expression, in fact her smirk widens at Hoseok’s fear. 

You on the other hand, are cool as a cucumber when you walk up to the front of the conference room. In fact, you barely have to say anything as the presentation presents itself. Jungkook took the liberty of making a video compilation for you, one that they could use in YouTube and Instagram promotions. 

“This, is preserving our youth,” you declare proudly, letting the video play. The music that accompanies it is very coming-of-age, like a yearbook slideshow of all the pictures you took. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin hold their arms around each other in matching attire, looking like friends for life. There’s even some videos of you and Jungkook at the park, playfully arguing at each other. “I’m tired of seeing people who could care less about my life, who I can’t relate to.” 

“This issue is for the unsung heroes—my best friend’s older sibling, the captain of the football team, and the black sheep with a dream.” 

The video cuts to Jungkook, looking ultra cool at the camera while he’s dictating Seokjin’s moves. It was taken on your phone, and you’re zooming in on Jungkook’s serious face before it breaks into a laugh, eyes crinkling and bunny teeth showing at whatever stupid thing Seokjin said. 

And finally, the video fades into a mock cover. The five of you are beaming at the camera, cheek-to-cheek as you hold up the placard: Ego: Class of Youth. 

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

You ignore Jennie’s icy stare as you leave the room to negotiate with the creative teams on a set schedule. However, it seems that you can’t get a bit of rest when Jennie waits for you in your office.

“Jennie, get off of my desk,” you frown, watching a coffin-tipped nail flicking against a photograph of you holding hands with Jungkook in the amusement park. It hangs on a corkboard, standing up with all the other ideas that you and Jungkook have spent the last week meticulously planning.The black enamel scratches at your smiling face. You are not having this, not after all your hard work and all the meetings that have just been planned. 

Her feet dangle in the air, kicking back and forth as she sings your name. “You’re still such a child,” she sighs dramatically. “In fact, I think your cute little-wittle idea would suit something more like Highlights or Disney Monthly.”

“You’re just upset I did better than you,” you cross your arms.

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

“You’re right,” Jennie turns a 180 and gives you a bright, candy-coated smile. “Your idea is so good, it doesn’t suit Ego. In fact, I’m sure the editors at Mono will pay a pretty penny.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ugh, you are such a fake.” Jennie giggles, “now, did you send this idea to Namjoon yet? Their publishing date is two weeks before ours, so I’m sure they’re getting to work on this whole Throwback Thursday spread.” 

You can’t believe the words coming from Jennie’s mouth. Before all of this, just how awful of a person were you? How could you sabotage your company on the regular, just to get paid a little extra dough for a rival company? It makes you think about what could’ve possibly changed. Had leaving your friends without a care in the world made you into this lost adult, grappling at the seams for attention? In college, did Jennie coerce you into being manipulative and backstabbing, and because without Jimin and needing confidence in a friend, you reluctantly agreed?

The coffee from this morning starts to back up in your throat, but you immediately tamp it down. No, you can’t be pushed around like this. You can’t keep pushing people around. You don’t want a life like this, and if you ever return to your old life, you’ll damn make sure you’ll create a future without Jennie in the picture. 

“I’m not going to send anything to Mono, and I’ve already fessed up to Hoseok,” you lift your nose in the air, voice impeccably clear for someone who’s absolutely bluffing. But Jennie’s face hits the ground, immediately buying your lie. You suppose you did become a good actress after ten years. Maybe Seokjin taught you a few pointers. “So if I were you, I’d swallow your tongue before words get around. I worked it out but don’t be surprised if a pink slip comes your way.” 

Turns out that no matter what, high school never ends. There will always be backstabbers and freaks and geeks. A mean girl that you subconsciously try so hard to appease, a grade that defines your life, and drama up to the neck. 

“He doesn’t like you, y’know,” Jennie whispers, but the words are loud and clear and you know exactly who she’s talking about. “Never had, and never will.” 

“You’re wrong,” you hold your hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, “he likes me.” 

So you leave the office, determined to prove yourself. That kiss last night was nothing short of magical, and it took a lot of strength for you to not drive up to Jungkook’s apartment in the morning in the hopes for another one. You pick up a pizza near his place, filling it up with your favorite toppings on one half and his favorites on his. A bottle of peach champagne is nestled between your arms. In the bathroom while waiting for your pizza, you’ve wriggled out of your tight suit and into a blue hoodie and bicycle shorts. Tonight, you’re celebrating. 

You’re vibrating as you’re knocking eagerly on his front door, excited to tell him the news. You hear a rustle from the couch, and some blankets shifting about. He must’ve passed out after going to the bar, how cute. 

But when the door opens, the vision in front of you is far from cute.

A woman, with cat eyes and a slim figure, tilts her head at you. She’s dressed in a large white shirt, transparent enough to show her lacy black bra and panties. Bruises decorate her neck and thighs, like red and purple gems. Her long black hair swishes, slightly frizzy at the bottom. 

“Can I help you?” her voice is sultry and velvety. “Are you looking for JK?” 

It’s obvious as to what transpired. Jungkook dipped after kissing you and fucked another woman. A woman who’s the complete opposite of you. Someone flirty and sexy and willing to give Jungkook what he wants. You don’t know who you should be mad at. 

“Who’s at the door?” Jungkook calls from the inside, and you nearly drop your bottle at the sound of the rasp. They must’ve had a fuckfest if they’re just waking up now.

Your cheeks are burning. Your heart is aching. And the vile that bubbled up from Jennie’s tirade is now resurfacing. From the way your eyes are watering, you must look like a crybaby. 

“Say, JK,” the woman closes the frame tighter around her small head, preventing you from seeing inside and for Jungkook to peer, “do you have any pathetic ex-girlfriends?” 

“No,” comes the muffled reply, “come back to bed, it’s getting cold without you,” the pizza starts to burn uncomfortably against your grip, “why the random question?” 

“Dunno, seems like you’ve had at least one.” 

At that moment, your savior appears in grey jeans and a beige hoodie. Jimin walks up to the floor, clutching a bag of groceries. It’s not hard to put two and two together as he spots you looking incredibly small in front of the strange woman, trying so hard not to break down. 

Your tears finally fall when Jimin reaches you. “Wrong room,” you mutter under your breath, quickly following your old best friend when he shoves you in his apartment. 

No words need to be explained when Jimin leaves the groceries on the coffee table and he’s pulling you onto his lap. You clutch him like a koala, rubbing mascara and blush all over his clothes as you sob. He pats your back and soothes your hiccups by offering you a glass of water. The stages of your meltdowns are pretty cut and dry, even after ten years. He still encourages you to finish the whole glass. He makes sure you have something to eat. He cuts your pizza into little bite sized pieces and feeds you. He doesn’t pressure you to talk until you’re ready, although he has a hunch as to what’s going on. 

And when you talk, he doesn’t expect a firm, “Take me home,” from you. 

“O-okay,” Jimin agrees immediately, pulling you into a sitting position. “Uptown, right? We can call an Uber or something and order from a restaurant.” 

“No,” you reply firmly, “Home-home. I want to go back to my parent’s house.” 

“That’s fine too,” he squeezes your shoulder, accepting the fob you hold out to him, “it’ll take about an hour, but I think the drive will be nice.” 

So you two sneak off into the sunset, clutching twin slices of pizza as you roll away into your Tesla. Jimin is right, ten minutes into the drive and you’re soothed by his smooth driving and the scent of fried cheese and dough. Your friend has been calm all this time, so you figure this is the right time for him to pop off. Again, this is also part of your breakdown routine. 

“Say, does this thing do calls?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the settings on your steering wheel, “Tesla, call Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Jimin,” you say weakly, although the little malicious side of you wants to goad him on. You don’t bother to fight the best friend territorialism, you just watch as his hands clutch at the steering wheel as the speakers ring. 

Jungkook picks up on the second ring, “Hey!” he says brightly, and it makes your chest pang to know how oblivious he is, “how did the presentation go?” 

“Fuck you, Jungkook!” you cover your free hand on your ear at Jimin’s shrill yell, louder than the speakers that carry Jungkook’s voice. “Fuck you for breaking my best friend’s heart twice!” 

The silence is deafening. It’s scary, like you could slash a butter knife right through the tension. 

Jimin continues, “I can understand high school because you were a real doofus, but this! You fucking lead my best friend on, only to fuck another girl right under her nose! She came all the way to your apartment from a long-ass day at work to celebrate and you ruin that day! I thought you’ve grown for the better but turns out nothing has changed since prom night. You’re still the stupid, confused little boy that doesn’t want to admit how they really feel,” you gasp at the blow, watching Jimin’s gritted teeth as he zooms down the freeway on a mission. “Good fucking riddance, Jeon!” 

Jimin punches the “hang up” button. A couple seconds of heavy breathing, and he turns to you with a gentle smile. 

“So, you want to listen to Taylor Swift’s new album?” 

Your room is lost in time. The Hunger Games novels are stacked on your shelf, looking old and worn. A Glee poster hangs over your four-poster bed, the yellow and red faded and the corners hanging by a thread from the old tape. The sheets are a pale pink, ruffly and definitely not in style anymore. When you sit on it, it creaks uncomfortably. 

You hug yourself, tucking your knees in as Jimin marvels at the room with an equal amount of awe. 

“If you could, would you go back to high school?” Jimin asks, sitting at the edge of your bed. 

With a lazy shrug, you smile at your collection of polaroids that are hanging above your vanity. You’re still hurt, but the pain is no longer rolling in waves. “Maybe,” you reply, “probably would’ve taken you to Europe with me.” 

He chuckles, “Is that the only thing you would change?” 

“If I knew what I knew now?” you tilt your head, “I don’t know.” 

Jimin gets off your bed, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen and see if we can make something for dinner, yeah? Since your parents are on vacation and your fridge is probably empty, don’t  judge me if there’s only Totino’s pizza rolls and nuggets in the freezer.” 

When Jimin leaves your room, you quietly close the door and lock it. You lean against the cracked wooden door, falling onto the carpet and letting the tears fall. Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? Evading pain and working too hard and trying everyday to stay afloat? Is adult life always going to be this difficult?  

These past two weeks have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Major highs and major lows, and after today you thought you reached the end of the ride. However, it’s looking like the ride has no destination in mind, rolling in waves and finding a new hill or loop to catch you off-guard. 

“Are you kidding—how did you know we were here?” Another corkscrew. 

“You’re a turtle on the road, Jimin. Now move out of the way.” 

Jungkook’s voice startles you, and you tense when you see the gold door knob jiggle. Of course as strong as Jimin is, he’s no match for Jungkook. You hear Jimin grumble to curse Jungkook out, and the sound of him stomping down the stairs. 

“Hey, open up. Please,” Jungkook’s voice is weak and strained, and you only hug yourself tighter as the knocks continue. “Or, don’t. It seems like you can listen to me perfectly from here. I can hear your breathing.” 

You don’t say a peep, preferring to let everything fizzle out. Hopefully Jungkook will give up, say a pathetic sorry and be on his merry way. You don’t know why he’s followed you all the way over here, why would he bother coming when the damage is already done. 

There’s a slide of fabric across wood, and you can feel the door shake against your back as Jungkook leans on his side out in the hallway. 

“Back in high school, Jennie proposed that I date you to get back at you for stealing Jennie’s sewing sample and getting the higher grade,” you close your eyes, letting the story unravel. “She wanted to build you up before breaking you down, and back then I was vulnerable and thrived on attention, so I thought nothing of it.” 

You hear a breathy exhale from his side, as if it pains him to continue, “But obviously, it wasn’t true and I only realized it until I was way too deep. I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you. We were so wrapped up in this relationship I even convinced myself it was real, until Jennie said she’d crush you at prom night.

“I should’ve tried harder to convince us not to go. I should’ve told Jennie to fuck off. I should’ve come clean. I should’ve done something,” his fist bangs against your door, the vibrations of the impact thrumming in your back, “seeing you so beautiful in that dress all heartbroken because I didn’t act sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Hearing him pour his heart out is like watching your memories in his shoes. The pieces find homes and paint a picture left unfinished. 

“And then when you showed up at my doorstep, I was so angry. I knew you felt it. But I wasn’t upset at you, I was upset at myself. I felt so fucking guilty. I hated how easy it was for you to let me back into your life. I hated how easy it was to fall for you all over again. I knew how much I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it to me and I was too selfish to refuse. I had so much fun, the most fun I’ve had in awhile. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend for it to I just, I couldn’t help myself. And then I was so scared that I turned away and made the second biggest regret to date.

“But it proves that we’re not meant to be together. I don’t deserve you,” the last part is hushed, a nail in the coffin, “we can’t turn back the time, but if I could I would change it all. I would be by your side and make your world even better than it is right now. I’m sorry it’s too late.” 

You clutch your mouth, suppressing the cries that muffle through the door. You hear Jungkook get up from your old carpet, turn the other way and head downstairs. 

Your first love just closed the chapter for you. His words show how much he cared for you, but didn’t know how to express it. How immature he was, how he realized everything too late. And now, he wants to set you free. Even if it is a good thing, it still tears you to shreds. 

Moving to your vanity, you pull out the chair and lean your head on the table, eyes poking through your hair. You look awful. The skin under your waterline is puffy and your eyes are red and bloodshot. Your forearms feel greasy, and you lift them up to reveal glitter painting the entirety of your skin. Your eyes dart to the open glitter, the package that Jimin gifted to you that fateful prom night. The compact is broken in half and left on the table, probably a product of your younger cousins fiddling through your old room. 

Ignoring the sticky feeling, you let yourself continue to cry. You feel like you’re stuck in the bathroom of the prom venue, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out and go. 

But you want nothing more than to go back to that moment. As amazing as your twenty-seven year old life is, you’re not ready for it. You don’t want a life without Jungkook, or a life having to constantly catch up and mend your relationship with Jimin. You don’t want to be the backstabbing bitch that tips off other magazines, or the two-faced woman who messes around with others for the sake of pleasure.

You long to go back. You long to live and grow. To be seventeen and have time to grow in-between. 

When you lift your head from your vanity, you’re ten years younger.

You scream. 

Your parents dash to your room with a kitchen knife and a confused face. With a wary smile and a teary gaze you say that it’s only a pimple. Your mother giggles and drops the knife, hugging you and helping you conceal the invisible mark. The hug is so warm and so missed that you nearly sigh in content. You’ve missed them. 

It’s a little strange to think well beyond your years, your brain still reeling from the trip you’ve just had. Your hands smooth over your body, the previous curves and maturity hidden away in your skin. That’s okay, you don’t mind waiting anymore. There’s much more important things at hand. 

If Jungkook isn’t going to realize his mistakes until it’s too late, you have to speed up the process. 

Stealing your parent’s keys and hopping in your Accord, you drive off to Jungkook’s. Hair and makeup not done, and still in your plain shirt and jeans. An hour from now, Jungkook will text you saying his car is down and he’ll meet you at the venue. 

It’s still rush hour, so he doesn’t notice when you park a few houses down. He’s sitting on his front porch, looking out the road. There’s really nothing in front of him, he’s just staring aimlessly, probably nervous about what’s about to go down tonight. You suppress a sigh, engraving the vision to memory. He looks great in his fitted black suit and tie, a little silver pocket square on the breast to match your dress. 

He gets up quickly when he sees you, as if caught in the act. Staring at your plain clothes he asks, “Bun, why aren’t you dressed? Prom’s soon—”

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

You see it in his eyes. Vulnerability. No longer do you feel insecure, the future told you that Jungkook genuinely did care for you back then. Or in this case, right now. His usual cheery expression crumples at your feet, and his hands fall at his sides. It feels a little unfair, knowing that you have experience under your belt, and Jungkook’s experiencing these feelings for the first time, unprepared. 

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

“I know about Jennie’s plan,” you say instantly, unfazed. You give him a tight-lipped smile when realization hits his face. “So I know this whole relationship is orchestrated. The sewing sample fiasco is wrong, obviously. But I’m not going to get mad at you, I know she played you as much as she played me,” you clasp the straps of your purse, stopping you from fidgeting, “we graduate in a few months anyway. We don’t have to see or talk about this ever again. You should go enjoy your prom night with your other friends.” 

The present-day Jungkook is still young and confused. He’s at a loss, looking like he’s on sensory overload as he absorbs all the information. You see his eyes flicker to where your Accord is parked, your prom dress hanging on one of the arm pulls. You never even pulled it out of the bag. 

“Here,” you pull his corsage from your purse, placing the white rose atop the porch. If you try to put it on him, you fear you may never leave. With a determined huff, you turn around in the direction of your car.

“Where are you going?” he asks, clutching the railing of his porch, “what about prom?” 

“I have other plans,” you shrug over your shoulder, “have a good night.” 

You don’t look back, although you feel Jungkook’s stare burning in your head. You take great care in going into drive and punching in a new destination in your clunky GPS. This time you have to do things one at a time, once you get your Tesla ten years from now, you’re sure this process will be much easier. 

Jimin’s family comes out of the airport, looking impeccable as always. Ten years younger, with puffy cherub cheeks and bright eyes. To your surprise (but also all things considered, it’s Jimin), your best friend comes out in a three-piece suit. It’s burgundy, and suits his dark hair well. He places his luggage into your car, hugs his family good-bye and waits for them to depart in their cab. 

“You are all dressed up, and for what,” you chuckle, driving out of the airport.

“Well, when you sent that voicemail that you’d be waiting for me, I changed in the bathroom,” Jimin quips, already fiddling with your radio to play some poppy overplayed music, “but why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going to be fashionably late to prom. Spill.”

“Hm, let’s talk about it in the morning. I wanna enjoy my prom night,” and you reach over to ruffle Jimin’s soft black strands, “y’know, you’d look really sexy as a blond.” 

He pulls down your mirror, positioning it over his face. Pursing his plush lips, he tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe when I’m older,” he grins at his reflection, “so if we’re not going to prom, let’s go get pizza.” 

So the two of you get pizza. But not before you take your prom pictures. Your parents meet you at the park with their old digital camera, ready for your impromptu photoshoot. Jimin uses an old tarp to cover the car up while you change in the car, shimmying in your sparkly silver tulle dress. Your hair is held up and away from your face, looking clean enough to be presentable as you pose for the camera. The two of you pick yellow dandelions from the grass, matching flowers as last minute dates. Your parents coo and are happy for you, knowing that even if you don’t attend the actual dance, the pictures will last forever and you’ll smile at them for years. 

Eventually you tell Jimin about Jungkook and the whole fiasco (sans the ten year mental time jump.) The reaction is expected, Jimin says he wants to fuck Jungkook up. Surprisingly for him, he doesn’t have to do much to console you. In fact, you sip coolly from your smoothie and say Jungkook will probably let Jimin get a punch in even though Jungkook can bench press his tiny body in half. But you tell him you’re okay, and all you want to do is go home and binge watch. 

Jimin carries the pie in his lap while you pull up your driveway. The smell of toasty cheese and fresh dough fill your car. 

“I want to watch Sky City,” Jimin sing-songs, “Kim Seokjin is God’s gift!” 

You crinkle your nose, “He’s alright.” 

“What! You thought he was so hot like, last week.” 

“Things change.” 

Jimin makes it to your room first, saying he’ll take care of setting things up. He’ll probably steal all the available cushions and make a fort for himself while he puts a picnic blanket on the floor in front of your television. You can imagine him hogging all your stuffed animals, placing it on his side of the carpet while he rifles through your drawers so he can change out of his suit. 

Your parents tell you to take out the trash before you have fun tonight. Careful not to get your dress dirty, you hold it away from your body as you waddle out the front door. You make it two steps into the driveway before the soggy trash bag is whisked from your hands.

“I got it,” Jungkook says quietly, and it takes little to no effort for him to haul the large bag into the waiting trash can. His shoulders are slumped under his white button-up, his suit jacket probably stuffed somewhere in the back of the car. 

“Jungkook,” you reply, dumbfounded, “it’s only eight, prom isn’t even over yet.” 

“I know… but then I realized you weren’t gonna get your money’s worth if you didn’t go. I asked the waitress if she could get me a doggie bag for my date and,” he holds up a stapled bag, presumably the dinner that was supposed to be served, “it’s your favorite.” 

“Thank you,” you give him a small, grateful smile as you accept the bag. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

He bites his lip, stuffing his hands in his dress pockets. “A-and you told me before you left that I should go spend prom night with my friends,” he ruffles his hair, blown out of the pomade and falling into his eyes, “and then I realized that you were right. Jennie and all those people out there aren’t really my friends. They like my rep and they like my attention, but they don’t like me.” 

You shake your head, “Jungkook, you’re very likable. Jennie and her group are just one bad bunch.” 

“But I don’t wanna be liked by my rep. I wanna be liked for the things I love,” he steps a hesitant step towards you, and he relaxes when he sees that you don’t recoil, “I haven’t told anyone this. But I want to drop that sports scholarship. I applied to an art school, and I got in.” 

Suppressing a grin with a bite of your lips, you cheer silently in your head. Things are changing. “I’m so happy for you, Jungkook. Congrats.” 

“And I’m sorry for all the fucked up things I did. Jennie may have manipulated me but I definitely was a big part of it,” Jungkook pulls the words out of the sky, finally having enough time to formulate an apology, “but please don’t doubt for a second that my feelings are fake. I really like you, and I wish we got to know each other under better circumstances.”

“I wish we could’ve,” you echo sadly. “But our futures—” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you.”

You shake your head, frowning at his kicked puppy expression. “I’m considering a fashion school in Europe,” you reach for Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it. Letting him know that everything’s going to be okay. “You and Jimin can visit me during the breaks, Europe has some great spots to photograph.” 

Something in Jungkook’s gaze tells you that it’s not enough for him. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you tighter, but you know that’s not good for the both of you right now. “That’d be nice,” he says vaguely, giving you a pained smile. 

Jungkook rubs his thumb over your hand, relishing in the softness of your skin. “You look really pretty,” he says, looking forlornly over the dress. He can only imagine how ethereal you’d look under the fairy lights that decorated the venue, “I wish we could’ve had one dance.” 

You shrug, “The night’s still young,” you gesture to the space in the driveway, and the lights that overhead the garage. 

The slow Taylor Swift music that plays from his pocket is muffled, but it doesn’t deter either of you as he places his hands on your waist and you wrap his around his neck. You’re wearing your bunny house slippers and Jungkook’s neck is moist from his nervous sweats, but you know that this memory will be engraved in your brain for years to come. 

It feels good to know that from now on, you don’t have to be so concerned about the future now that you’ve had a taste of it. All you want now is to take it one day at a time. At this moment the, the only thing you want to do is focus on how you’re going to hold onto Jungkook for the last time. At least for now, who knows what will happen in the future. 

“I really want to kiss you, Bun,” he leans in, foreheads touching, “but I don’t deserve it.” 

“You’re right,” you tease, “you don’t.” 

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

Yet you figure you’ve made enough headway these past few weeks, and you deserve to be a little selfish. One last kiss, you think to yourself. Your fingers flatten against the pressed material of his collar, meeting in the middle to clutch Jungkook’s slim black tie. Jungkook bites his lip, looking down at you for permission. With the tiniest of nods, you get on your tippy toe toes you lean forward and you can smell the apple cider lingering on his lips—

“Ohmygod—are you broken up or not!” both of you whip your heads up to see Jimin hanging over your open window, looking absolutely bored. His arms dangle over your sill, wearing a frayed high school jumper. “Either tell him to get lost or invite him over to watch television because I’m hungry!” 

You pull away from him fully, squeezing his biceps. “Want pizza?” 

He shakes his head, “I think it’s a trap. Jimin’s waiting for me to come up so he can rip my head off,” he gives a tentative wave to the second floor, but Jimin just scoffs and goes back inside, “but I’ll see you Monday.” 

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

Your heart pinches a little as you watch him drive away. Before, you knew what the end game was between you two. It didn’t end pretty. Now, you’re not so sure. At the very least, it isn’t ending on a sour note. 

Some time later.

“Your majesty,” you give her a practiced smile, taking careful measures not to brush the lady’s shoulders too hard in the fear she’ll whittle away, “emerald is an impeccable color on you.” 

The Queen of England (the McDuckin' Queen of England!) just laughs at you and waves you off. You can’t believe you’re photographing a real queen. This is like the childhood equivalent of meeting Malibu Barbie. You thank every single choice and mistake you’ve made in your entire life that has brought you up to this impeccable moment. She’s a vision, you could cry. In fact, you’ll cry later in the comfort of your hotel room. “Do you think the photographer will take long?” she asks, frowning, “I have drinks with my friends in an hour.” 

You smirk, pleased to know she’s still kicking it in her golden years. “Yeah, just so long as my husband doesn’t get distracted. Fifteen minutes, tops.” 

“I’m not distracted,” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from his tripod. He gives up on trying to stabilize the camera, instead preferring to go freehand for this one. He gives you an incredulous look, hands on his hips, “I have two queens in my viewfinder and I only got room for one. Get out of the shot, Bun.” 

With a playful roll of your eyes, you step away from the lady of the hour to let Jungkook do his thing. He’s right in his element, blurting choreographed poses and telling the lighting people to move at his beck and call to get the perfect angle. You stand a distance behind him, letting him take control. 

“I’m so hungry,” your whisper is low enough to blend between the jazz music, but loud enough for Jungkook’s ears to listen in, “please tell me you’re almost done.” 

“Oui, oui.” 

“Wrong language, Kook. Please don’t offend anyone,” and discreetly, you take one step closer in your Tory Burch flats, “did you get any candids of me and the Queen?” 

“Duh, Bun,” you can’t see his face but you know he’s grinning, “Jimin will faint.” 

"Oh, yes! Thank you, I love you," you gush, reaching over to discreetly pinch his butt. 

He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to give you a brief smirk, "Show me how thankful you are tonight." 

So silly, you think. It's amazing how well you work together as two separate entities of a photoshoot yet share a brain cell in the presence of each other. In another world, Jungkook said if given the chance, he'd be by your side and make your world a better place. 

Ten years later, it's exactly that and more. 

[unabashegirl]

HI!! cn u pls do one of y/n surprising harry on tour or sth and doing sth with the fans while doing so hehehe MAKE IT SUPER FLUFFY PLS KSNDJDND 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

CHOCOLATE CAKE

I sure can! I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Also, continue to SEND YOUR REQUESTS!

masterlist 

----

There he stands, hearing his name being chanted by hundredths of people but he has never felt as lonely; not even when he was single. At least then he hadn't had a taste of her. Now he is addicted to her love and her soft touch inflicted by her tiny, delicate hands. The same hands that hold him in his darkest times. And the same hands that he has held above her head when he makes sweet love to her.

Y/N is quiet, reserved — an introvert to the t. She prefers to stay home than dressing up and partying in crowded spaces. If there is one thing she enjoys the most is quietness. Perhaps that was what captivated him when he met her that afternoon at an art exhibition. He is so used to the screaming and loudness of people that he now naturally, gravitates towards the quietness. Thus, why he had stumbled into that small, serene exhibition that day. He started the conversation after noticing her admiring for far too long a single painting out of the bunch. Harry couldn't understand what she found so alluring and his curiosity got the best of him. They sat for hours on an uncomfortable bench talking about their lives as if they weren't complete strangers, but acquaintances.

Falling begins getting played by the band: an organic smile spreads across his face, product of remembering the first time that he played the album to her — in the privacy of his home. 

That day she sat on the couch with her legs crossed just after preparing herself a hot cup of tea. She wore one of his colorful jumpers and an old pair of grey pajama pants that were too big for her small frame. He would never forget the way, her eyes swelled up in tears when the last song was played. 

He’s been quiet all night and everyone has noticed. He hadn’t been his usual careless self throughout the rehearsal nor he had danced around to the music. The truth is that he hasn’t stopped thinking about her. He has been gone for far too long and it is starting to take a toll on his mental health. He misses the way she always manages to put him to sleep by just running her fingers through his hair. He misses how she always goes to bed wearing socks, yet wakes up barefoot. He misses the random conversations in bed when she can’t remember how to sleep and how she always wakes him up to a cup of tea and a minty, fresh, morning kiss.

His eyes are tightly closed with both ringed hands wrapped around the mic. His throat veins pop out as he hits the perfect note in the chorus. He knows he can’t do much about the obscure heaviness he currently feels in his heart. Nothing could ever fill the void that he feels in her absence. The only thing he is sure about is that he will never again leave her behind. He regrets the day he agreed on her staying because of work.

The melancholy song comes to an end earning quite loud cheers and howls from the crowd. He opens his eyes after taking in the last bit of his emotions. The crowd had felt his pain. They have known for a considerable amount of time, the woman that makes Harry’s knees go weak.  One afternoon a reporter had taken a picture of her getting picked up at work by Harry.  The next morning, her face was splatter everywhere. He was irate. He didn’t want to keep her hidden, but he wanted to reveal the relationship at their own time and terms. And the reporter had stolen that from them.

“What’s yeh name?” Harry asks an individual in the crowd as he approaches the edge of the stage. He knows how much fans appreciate and enjoy having some type of interaction with him. He also realizes he hasn’t been as in the moment as other times. Hence, why he is trying to make up for it. 

It takes him a few times to perceive what she is saying through the ear-piercing screams. 

“Are you sad?” A small smile appears, still surprised at the skill that the fans have developed to figure out his demeanor based on his tone and mannerisms.

“M’not” He replies, trying to hide the sun with a finger. No one in the crowd believes him especially with that little smile of his. 

Suddenly, their attention is ripped away from him. Their eyes drift back and to the side where the curtain is situated. It takes Harry a few minutes to realize that everyone’s got their attention focused on something behind him.

Y/N stands shyly a few feet away from Mitch, fiddling with her fingers. She looks tiny from where he is — adorable actually.

He is shocked — speechless even. Harry isn’t sure if he is more astounded that she has managed up the courage to appear on stage with him or that she is finally, in the same place and in the same country as him.

Meanwhile, the crowd is going crazy. They are just as shocked as Harry. Most are happy and giddy that Harry was reunited with his girl and that she had managed to surprise him. They thought it was a particularly precious gesture from her.

Y/N gives everyone a shy smile and a wave causing everyone to go nuts. It also manages to snap Harry out of his trance.

It takes him only takes four strides to stand before her.  He throws an arm over her and pulls her into a warm embrace while he holds the mic with his other hand. Harry kisses the top of her head. This is obviously not the only way he wants to greet her, but he recognizes that he is in front of a crowd with phones. He craves to kiss her but still wants to keep some grade of privacy and intimacy in his relationship. 

“Shows over. Go home” He jokes for the first time in the night. “Just kidding. This is Y/N — my girlfriend” A big smile covers his face, crow’s feet visible. She hides her blushing face with her hands. “She’s a bit shy. Aren’t you lovie?” The term of endearment is enough to cause everyone’s hearts in the arena to melt. “Anyway, I don’t think I should embarrass her any longer. Say goodbye to Y/N!” Harry asks the crowd as he escorts her off the stage. 

As soon as they are off stage, he doesn’t waste time in connecting their lips. “I love you” he mumbles one last time against her lips before running back on stage to finish his show.

Y/N watches him the rest of the night from the side of the stage. She is pretty proud of herself. She has managed to pull the whole thing through. Jeff had helped her planned it. He had arranged everything for her to fly out and arrive a few hours before the concert. Jeff had also managed to keep her hidden from Harry most of the night. 

--

Y/N sits next to him with an elbow on the table and her head resting on her hand. She knows it's not polite to have her elbows on the table at dinner, but she can’t help admiring her boyfriend. 

Harry sits beside her, his hips turned towards her even though he is talking to Mitch from across the table. His left hand resides on her thigh, holding her close while he uses his other to gesticulate. Even if it’s a habit of his to have the first buttons of his shirt undone, she can’t help admire his bare skin and the pearl necklace that wraps around his neck. 

Harry can feel her expressive eyes on him. He can slightly see her from the corner of his eye. He attempts to ignore her gaze and continues the conversation with him. Although it becomes harder to do with every passing second. 

“Stop looking at me like that” He whispers as he turns his attention momentarily to her. His grip on her thigh tightens as a warning. His tone is rough, but his cheeky smile contradicts his statement. Mitch smiles at the couple’s interaction and decides to give them a bit of privacy. Therefore, he turns to the next conversation happening beside him. 

“What are you talking about? I am not doing anything” She says just in time as dessert and coffee get served. Y/N had ordered a chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream and a cappuccino. On the other hand, Harry had ordered a double expresso and had refused to order anything else. Even though Y/N knows that he will probably end up taking most of hers. 

Harry’s hand reaches down and grips the edge of her chair, yanking it closer to him. 

“Hi” He smiles as he pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Hi” Y/N kisses the tip of his nose before turning towards her dessert.

“Lovely shirt you are wearing” Harry’s right arm wrapping around her as he leans in to kiss the skin below her ear.  He can smell the faint scent of her favorite Chanel perfume.

“Thank you. It’s my boyfriend’s actually. He is just kind enough to lend it to me” She shrugs feeding herself a mouthful of hot lava cake. She is wearing one of his white linen, button-down shirts along with her own beige skirt. The shirt seems to tie the entire outfit together. Plus, it still smells like him. It made sense at the time. This is why Y/N has been especially careful not to ruin or spill anything on the designer shirt — all night long. 

“Really?” Harry reaches out and with his thumb wipes the remaining chocolate off the corner of her bottom lip. “Lucky bastard,” he says, sucking the chocolate off his thumb. Y/N slices a piece of the dessert knowing what’s coming next. “Can I have some, lovie?” 

She giggles proceeding to feed him a spoonful of the ridiculously sweet dessert. 

“What?” 

“You always manage to steal my dessert” 

“S’not true!” Harry opposes even though he knows she is right. He doesn't fancy anything until she is already eating it. “okay. maybe a bit” it’s not until she gives him a look that he finally confesses with a mischievous smile. 

She responds by wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering near his ear an intimate ’I love you’. Harry grips her chin, giving her the proper kiss that he has been waiting all night to share with her. He can taste the combination of the sweetness of the chocolate and the bitterness of the coffee while kissing her. 

“Thank you for today. I’ll never forget this”  Harry admits with his forehead pressed against hers...

[rouiettes]

raya and the ugliest fucking dragon i've ever seen holy fuck who the hell thought to give a dragon fuckiNG EYEBROWS WHY WHY—

aka the musings of a filo non-binary bisexual who feels victimized by the dragon designs of this fucking movie supposedly centred around THE LAST DRAGON???? MAYBE THEY SHOULD HAVE STAYED STONE GDI WHAT THE FUCK SERIOUSLY WHY DO THE DRAGONS LOOK LIKE THAT

let's get one thing straight.

none of the characters in this movie. rest assured. not a single straight person was in this movie. trust me.

raya and the last dragon had all the foundations of a good movie

IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO GREAT

BUT IT WASNT

AND HERE'S WHY

(in my humble opinion okay pls dont come for me)

a disney movie with sea culture at its heart and soul, i was so hyped to finally watch this movie

(not as hyped as i could have been tho bc let's be honest DISNEY DID SHIT WITH RAYA'S MARKETING)

(AND PERHAPS FOR GOOD REASON LOL I SWEAR I DONT HATE THIS MOVIE OKAY)

you had the amazing score, the amazing concepts for plot and characters, the solid solid worldbuilding???

if you just told me about how raya's setting and premise, i'd probably be "wow this movie sound like the whole package"

and then i'll actually watch the movie and have just as much trust issue as raya did :/

but i digress

A DISNEY MOVIE WITH SEA CULTURE AT ITS HEART AND SOUL

do you know how diverse sea culture is??? VERY

and one thing i was very happy to see was how raya handled it

it was by no means perfect but

the subtle shows of culture in the way the characters acted, and the environment of the movie was just CHEF'S KISS

not only that but the ideas the movie had in terms of its world and the people in it felt genuine, it felt alive

a dragon that isn't the typical fire-breathing lizard

characters who look like they could easily be my neighbours or children i've played with

instead of pandering to this movie felt like an actual homage to sea cultures

and for good reason bc seeing all those familiar names rolling in the credits had me feeling some type of way :")

also that fucking soundtrack gave me chills throughout my watch of the movie

okay now that we've got the things i actually like about the movie, let's talk about what i don't like

if there's one word i could use to describe disney's raya it would be: rushed

like i said in the beginning, all the groundwork for an astounding disney movie were already there

but all of it just goes to waste bc the plot and it's characters feel so Unfinished

the movie felt like a bullet-point presentation of the story

WHICH IS SO FUCKING DISAPPOINTING BC THE CHARACTERS SEEMED SO INTERESTING but all we got were shadows of what they could have been

cardboard cutouts of the archetypes they filled

i'm not asking for a bottomless well of depth, but i at least wanted more for the cast than just: angry misunderstood princess, angry misunderstood princess with an undercut, that one dancing kid from moana but with more spice, boss baby, and the mountain

and i get that they had to sacrifice some of their depth to keep the run time of the movie short but you have got to be better than this disney

i hate to compare but it felt like this movie tried to go beyond what moana gave us, and shot so far that it ended up back to where it started, and then stumbled back a few steps

AND IM NOT EVEN SAYING A DRAGON MOVIE WITH A BIG CAST IS IMPOSSIBLE

BC IT'S ALREADY BEEN DONE

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON DID IT THREE TIMES

and you'd think the plot for one of the few disney movies with a non-western setting would have more than just a macguffin considering how batshit sea folk tales can be

but you'd think wrong folks.

GENUINELY IT FELT LIKE THEY WERE ATTEMPTING SOMETHING BUT WERE SHORT OF BRINGING IT TO FRUITION

sure moana had a macguffin too with the heart of te fiti, but the heart itself wasn't the heart of the movie

it was the journey of moana and maui

it was that BEAUTIFUL TWIST WITH TE KA AND TE FITI

ALL DELIVERED WITH A NATURAL FINESSE THAT HAD YOU ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEAT

YOU WERE ALONG FOR THE RIDE OF THE STORY INSTEAD OF QUESTIONING EVERYTHING THAT WAS GOING ON LIKE I WAS

maybe this was just me but like, i felt so bad for the friend who watched this movie with me bc all i could go on and on was how the plot felt like it was getting in the way of itself

why didn't the different kingdoms (??) kept the gem in rotation or smth, when did they decide that heart would keep it and then get mad at heart for keeping it????

why didn't awkwafina dragon just show herself to the kingdoms bc everyone seems to be in agreement that dragons good right? that they would be the key to getting rid of the druun right??? SO THEY'D ALL AT LEAST HEAR HER OUT OR SMTH RIGHT????????

and yes raya has trust issues but it seems to only spring up at the most convenient times plot-wise, we didn't really see her learn to trust other people again OTHER THAN THE TIMES WHERE SISU WOULD HAMFISTEDLY SHOVE IT DOWN OUR THROATS THAT SOME PEOPLE ARE GOOD SOMETIMES RAYA

we see it with boun, but then she just trusts noi, her monkeys, and tong THE GUY WHO STRUNG THEM UP AND WAS THREATENING TO TORTURE THEM????????

i'm gonna be honest and say that if it weren't for namaari i'd have absconded the moment sisu came on screen

as far as i'm considered the actual plot of the movie is just the entire sword fight scene between her and raya

and finally

we get to the part i will be erasing from my brain for my own mental well-being

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT DRAGON DESIGN

WHY OH WHY TH  E FUCK DOES SISU SOUND AND LOOK LIKE THAT

my friend said they looked like the ponies from mlp in 3d AND NOW I CAN NEVER UNSEE IT

THEY HAVE EYEBROWS THEY HAVE HUMAN FACES

HUMAN FACES ON MAJESTIC DRAGON BODIES

THE INTERNET HAS COLLECTIVELY DECIDED THAT SISU IS BASICALLY FURRY ELSA

every time we got a sisu close up i lost 5 years to my life

disney i am suing for damages

if you want me to drop the charges i demand raya 2: electric boogaloo but it’s just raya and namaari enemies to friends to lovers ark

and also for them to never say dragon nerds ever again

AGAIN. HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON GAVE US BEAUTIFUL DRAGON DESIGNS. HELL IF YOU WANTED MORE EASTERN LOOKING DRAGONS FUCKING SPIRITED AWAY??? HAKU??????????

AND YKNOW WHAT. SISU WOULDN'T EVEN LOOK THAT HORRIFIC IF THE MOVIE WAS IN 2D

im not the first person to be side-eying disney's decision to keep pumping out these 3d movies but like.

no amount of added dimensions could ever make that dragon design okay

and there so many more points i could go off on to show how this movie was rushed

how the other dragons, and even sisu's siblings whom she had been missing for the entire movie DIDNT MAKE A SINGLE SOUND???? NOT EVEN A FUCKING GROWL DISNEY???? DID YOU EVEN TRY WITH THE DRAGONS AT ALL??? THE SUPPOSED CENTRE OF THIS MOVIE'S PLOT?????????

HOW THE CHIEFS OF THE OTHER KINGDOMS WERE BASICALLY PLOT DEVICES????

THAT ONE CHIEF'S SKELETON WAS MORE INTERESTING THAN ANY OF THEM COMBINED ALIVE

kudos to that one granny chief though

u can never have enough bad ass old ladies

AND GOD THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS JUST FELT SO FORCED

ALONG WITH WHATEVER LESSON SISU WANTED TO IMPART ABOUT TRUST

LOVE THESE CHARACTERS THEY ARE FUNNY THEY ARE FRIENDS FOUND FAMILY

TRUST PEOPLE IF U WANT THEM TO TRUST U

TRUST PEOPLE OR ILL LITERALLY FUCKING KILL U

children aren't stupid disney. if you tell your story well enough, they'll pick up on the messages you want to give them. YOU DONT HAVE TO THRUST EVERYTHING IN OUR FACES

i was exhausted by the time i finished this movie

bc i really wanted to love it. i wanted to feel more for it than just: well, it's a movie :)

i dont hate this movie though like it's not even worth the energy for that

i think that ultimately, despite all my issues with it, this movie was a step in the right direction when it comes to having non-western stories being told by non-western people in big name productions

i'm glad raya and the last dragon exists

i just can't help but be dissapointed though bc this movie put so much effort into putting my people and culture at its forefront but at what cost???

good characters and story for a good setting and design????

does it have to be one or the other?????

DOES THE DRAGON HAVE TO HAVE EYEBROWS??????

[rvmmm21]

. six things vampires love about puppies .

[vampiremum!irene x puppy!wendy]

. . . . .

In Joohyun’s definitely unbiased opinion, Seungwan has too many habits that make her the cutest girl in the world. 

Here are just a few of her favourites:

one: 

Mornings aren’t the best, the vampiress especially can attest to that. But luckily, they have ‘Sunshine Time’ before school. Just as the gentle morning rays peep through the curtains, Joohyun dutifully rouses little puppy, peppering kisses over soft ears, feeling her actions prompt a string of tiny yawns, one big stretch, and the groggiest little mumble of “luv u mummie”. Joohyun’s heart sings at the sound of her title, and she tells her Wannie that she’ll never stop loving her too. They brush their teeth, but before they even think about getting ready for the big day of learning ahead, Joohyun’s bent forward with Seungwan’s both hands around her wrist as she toddles over to the window. 

She’s aimed for her favourite spot in the house, other than the play room, of course. It’s a homemade bed thing that Joohyun had crafted from an old duvet and some spare blankets. Joohyun thinks it kind of looks like a dog bed, but she only smiles when Seungwan gravitates towards it, knowing the penny will drop when little puppy is older. Within minutes, they’re in their routine position; Wannie snuggled into her blankies and the vampiress sitting right where the light draws the line into darkness. Joohyun’s knees hurt sometimes from the strain of how she’s sitting– staying in the dark but also reaching over as much as she can to give Seungwan the head pats she deserves (and whines if she doesn’t constantly get).

Because it’s still relatively early in the morning, Joohyun more often than not finds that Seungwan’s checked into Dreamland yet again. An adoring sigh leaves her as she detaches herself and lightly pads over to the wardrobe to get her uniform out while her snoozy puppy snores lightly in her puddle of sunshine.

They’ll pack lunch together.

. . . . . 

two:

Seungwan’s sense of smell is vigorous, which is great because it’s also how she shows affection. Sometimes, Joohyun will find herself with a chestful of mopey puppy in the middle of the day while she’s doing whatever she’s doing. She presses her nose into Joohyun’s clothes, or even just her collarbone and takes lungfuls of her mummy’s scent. 

“What’s the matter, puppy?” she coos, gently tilting her sniffling Wannie away from her.

Seungwan’s too upset to talk. She wriggles, wanting to latch on again. But Joohyun won’t give in. Not yet.

She takes the tip of a velvet ear between her fingers, giving it a few soft rolls and watching erratic breathing calm down. Truthfully, there’s no need to even ask what the matter is. Those teary eyes can hide nothing from her.

So she resigns, letting Seungwan quietly cuddle into her front.

“It’s maths homework, isn’t it?”

There’s a small nod against her followed by heavy inhales. The vampiress whispers to her baby until the hiccups even out and Seungwan is sound asleep. They’ll work on those equations later on.

Joohyun swears if maths were a person, they’d rue the day they ever hurt her Wannie.

. . . . .

three:

On a slightly more serious note, Joohyun has had to have some talks with her baby about self-assurance and dignity. It was on a walk one afternoon, and Seungwan had seen some other kids over by the swings.

“Swings! Push Wannie?”

Seungwan is always this excited about swings. Swingy Time gets her Wannie just as hyper as Swimmy Time. Joohyun holds her hand as they approach the swingset, ready to wait their turn. She looks down to see a tail held high, poking from underneath the seam of her puffy winter coat, something she learnt puppies do when they’re feeling friendly and happy.

That is, until Seungwan realises that, on second thought, she… didn’t really want to go on the swings after all.

As they near, the vampiress swallows a surprised gasp when Seungwan just… anchors herself to the ground. It takes her a while to figure it out, but when she observes closer, the problem shows itself larger than life. 

They’re not hybrids, just regular children.

A pang of heartache twists into her chest as she watches tiny hands move at the speed of light, furiously tucking her tail up and under her coat so it’s way out of sight before making grabs with outstretched arms at the baseball cap on Joohyun’s head.

She knows what Seungwan is doing, but she asks anyway, ready to teach her. “Why, baby?”

Guilty ears flip back and sadly droop down. Seungwan knows she’s been read, but she can’t help it! Those kids are going to run away if they see gross dog ears sticking out of her head!

“G-gib Wannie,” she pouts, quickly remembering her manners when Joohyun raises a brow down at her, “pl-please… mummie.”

“You’re hiding your ears, aren’t you?” The vampiress crouches. “Wan-ah, don’t do that. Don’t hide those cute ears and that happy tail. Mummy loves those so much.”

Seungwan is all but convinced. You may like it, mummie, but– ”when they see, they say Wannie’s weird.”

It’s time to be firm, and Joohyun holds a pouting puppy still. “Look at me, baby.”

Teary eyes meet hers.

“Those kids are not going to make fun of you. And if they do, then mummy won’t be happy with them. And you know what that means, right?”

Seungwan can’t hide her evil smirk. Extra brussel sprouts for their dinners.

“You’re not weird for having these,” she emphasises her point by smoothing a warm, chocolate ear and Seungwan’s eyes begin to close. She squeaks when Joohyun moves to untuck her tail from the base of her coat. “Or this.”

She’ll save the real talks about self-esteem and insecurities for when her puppy is older, but for now, Seungwan just needs to know that her mummy will have her back, come what may.

Hand in hand, they make their way over to the swings and the playing children. And aside from the initial blatant questioning about where she got those added features, Seungwan made a few new friends at the park that day.

(Joohyun was ever ready to pounce at the slightest hint of mean-spiritedness she felt– but she realised that it was just that no beating around the bush way that kids ask questions). 

. . . . .

four:

Oh, oh, okay. So Seungwan is a nervous little puppy as much as she’s a friendly one, right? And Joohyun finds that hilarious and heart-wrenching all at once when she watches her pup trying to make new friends but can’t seem to find the right way to introduce herself. It takes all her cooperating brain cells to not either roll about laughing or scoop the little thing up and smother her in reassuring kisses when the ‘I’m Shy, It’z Me’ stance comes out. 

Ears pressed flat, eyes burrowed into the ground, tail stiffer than a wooden plank.

The other hybrid kid pokes unsure, searching sniffs at the air around her, clearly very interested in becoming friends.

Aigo, you need a boost, don’t you baby, Joohyun coos, coming up with her magic hands to help her relax. “Wannie, come on. Say hello.”

She gives her shivering puppy a few butt pats to ease the tension. “Aigo, Chaengie won't bite. Look, she’s curling her tail! She wants to play with you, Wannie!”

A coffee-coloured ear springs back up, curiously folding over as Seungwan cocks her head. Chaengie wants to play too? She quickly glances back up at her mummy, as if double-checking with her that that really was the case.

“Mhm,” the vampiress assures with a few more tail pats of encouragement. “What have we said about manners, Wan? What do we do when someone’s happy to see us?”

Seungwan pauses for a second, but eventually looks up with soft, shiny eyes, whispering, “wag tail, mummie.”

Joohyun thinks Seungwan’s innocence in situations like these is astounding, but she knows she’s got the right idea. She smiles and nods in affirmative praise. 

We show them we’re happy to see them too– 

– so yes, puppy, wag tail. 

“Good girl! Go on, you can do it.” Her comforting presence takes a flame to the frozen fluff, and it begins to swish back and forth. Tentatively at first, but then like a speedboat motor, a couple hours later when they’re frolicking in the park, playing tag and one hundred percent best friends now.

Joohyun and Jisoo watch from afar, wondering how those silly kids were ever so shy in front of each other in the first place.

. . . . .

five: 

If Joohyun has one complaint, it would be the misfortune of physical growth. The vampiress misses the times where her arm span alone was enough to wrap puppy in a burrito hug during movie nights or… whenever a set of curious eyes spied her mummy’s arms lacking in… well, her. Unfortunately nowadays it’s a bit harder to cocoon her baby like she used to so easily do, only because Seungwan’s sprouted a few inches skywards. But Seungwan doesn’t know that. She still thinks she’s as little as she was when her mummy had spooked her and taken her home that night. 

And Joohyun’d be damned if she ever changed that.

. . . . . 

six:

Turns out that one way ticket to Nibble City was actually an All Seasons VIP Pass, because Seungwan is unstoppable.

Whenever she finds something she really, really loves, she does these little nibbles on them to show it. And it isn’t just limited to her dino-shaped butter biscuits or Pippin either. There are many things she loves! Mummy the most, of course. And then there are the inanimate objects.

As much as Joohyun doesn’t mind it, Wannie’s habit can prove to be a challenge. Especially when she finds the corners of pillowcases suspiciously frayed when she’s having guests over, or when she’s trying to stir Yerimie’s favourite kimchi soup, only to pick up the wooden ladle and find its handle all wet and indented with tiny teeth.

“Seung-Wan-ah!” she calls… in that tone.

That tone that soon has muffled, panicked thuds reverberating through the house as a little someone makes a break for her toy fort where she’ll be safe from the dragon’s wrath. 

She thinks she’s so slick until the dragon herself barges through that door, effortlessly bypassing all Seungwan’s meticulous booby traps and her blue blanket moat. Her castle, her safehold has just been ruined! All lines of defence defeated by the monster herself!

Her fort is under siege, so like any good ruler, Seungwan resorts to playing the deadest of dead. It’s never very effective though, because with just a few tickles, the dragon is able to conjure an innocent little puppy back to life.

“Wannie….” 

“Yis, mummie?” she replies, giggling softly.

And then the dragon’s gone and her mummy is back all of a sudden.

Joohyun shakes her head at how easy it is for Seungwan to make her forget why she was mad in the first place.

. . . . .

There are so many more things to list, and the vampiress could go on for centuries about Seungwan’s endearing quirks.

So perhaps she will, but for now, it’s time for a dino-shaped butter biscuit and some cuddles.

See you soon!

small note: this makes me think of you. when you see this, i hope you smile too.

an even smaller note: not proofread. i'll do that in a sec. but i missed them so much too! didn't expect to churn this out at this time but here we go.

[softguks]

angst drabble with jungkook please? HIT ME WITH THE PAIN. COME AT ME BRO. i’m probably going to regret this LMFAO

primroses

order description. Jungkook’s always missing you, it’s just on a rainy day that’s also your anniversary that he’s missing you the most.

customers. jeon jungkook / reader course. angst / teeny tiny bit of fluff :’) total bill. 1.5k words allergies. angst, character death (major), grieving, pain, crying :(

note ! @sketchguk thank you for being there for me during my rambles of how insecure i am about my writing sjwjsjsjjs. if the read more doesn’t work on mobile, i’m sorry :(

— primroses: i can’t live without you, eternal love

Jungkook’s made this trip more times than he count, comes probably every other week or so, and has visited so many times that he could probably get here with his eyes closed —even though that wouldn’t be very smart— but for some reason, today feels harder than normal.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the ridges of his knuckles going white as he clenches his jaw, chest heaving with each shaky breath that fills his lungs. The skin under his dark circles is tinged pink, red-rimmed eyes staring out into the distance as he musters you the courage to grow some balls and get out of his car. His legs feel like deadweights, and he can barely get himself out of the driver’s seat, eyes cast downward at the cracks and divots in the concrete. He follows each line and chasm in the asphalt that’s stained with rainwater. The squishy sounds of his shoes against the freshly trimmed, damp grass momentarily distracts him from his thoughts. Drops of dew cling precariously onto the blades of grass, glittering like jewels. He looks for anything and everything to get his mind off of her. His heart feels heavier today, the ache that resounds in his heart worsening with each day that passes.

Tears sting the base of his eyes, pooling in the corners of his doe eyes as he sniffles, struggling to hide the trembling of his body and the quivering of his bottom lip. Pearly, white teeth graze over the plump flesh of his bottom lip as he tightens his grip on the bouquet of flowers in his hand. His feet seem as if they are glued to the ground, imprinted in the soft and slightly damp, muddy patch of grass. Squatting down, he places the bouquet of primroses next to the structure, the pad of his thumb gently brushing against the yellow and pink petals. He glances up at the sky, trying his hardest to blink back the burning tears that threaten to slide down his cheeks.

Carding slender fingers through brown hair, he swallows the lump in his throat, unable to hide the pain that swallows him whole. It throbs in his chest, eating him out from the inside, burning him alive. It hurts, hurts so bad that some days he can’t get out of bed. Some days, his hyungs have to drag him out of bed for him to function. Some days, the most he can do is take a shower and down a glass of water before it all hits him like a truck again, and the pain becomes too much too handle. It’s funny, how bright and full of life he used to be. And now, he’s just a ghost, a husky of a human being, a lifeless soul residing in a shell.

It feels different without you. It feels wrong, it feels weird, and he hates it. It feels wrong to come back to a place he can’t even call home without you waiting with open arms. It feels wrong not to see your pair of shoes placed on the shoe rack next to his Timberlands, without your set of keys plopped in the little bowl at the front entrance, without your smile brightening his day. It feels too quiet, without the low hum of the dryer in the background, the illuminated TV playing softly, the bubbling of a boiling pot on the stove, the padding of your footsteps as you run to him. It feels wrong to sink down into the couch, waiting for you to run from your shared bedroom with lotion in one hand and a blanket in the other. He finds himself wanting nothing more than for the world to swallow him up whole as he barely lives through the days.

It feels wrong for him to fall asleep at night, without you curled up in his arms, the soft snores tumbling from your parted lips, your soft locks of hair fanned out around your head like a halo. He finds himself glancing over to the empty side of the bed more times than he cares to admit, unable to fall asleep because it’s too quiet and too cold. He misses the warmth that radiates from your sleeping figure, the beauty that astounds him when shards of silver moonlight illuminate your figure with a soft glow. It feels wrong to eat dinner alone, missing the warmth and homely feeling of your home-cooked meals. Recently, he’s been eating at the dorms to avoid feeling so lonely and lost in his thoughts.

Performing on stage is the worst. It doesn’t bring him the same euphoric feeling of pure bliss as it used to. He finds himself staring into the distance, at that one spot in the arena where you would normally preside, a proud smile playing across your rosy lips, your eyes bright with excitement. The thrill of it all, the rush of adrenaline, the cheering of the crowd, and the magical warmth that used to throb in his veins is now not enough. It takes too much out of him to sing the songs that were carefully crafted for you, to pour out his heart to someone who isn’t there anymore.

Jungkook finds himself falling deeper and deeper into a hole he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to climb out of.

He places the flowers down, next to the engraving in the stone, next to the plaque with your name carved on it. He lets the tears flow freely from his eyes, wide, broken, and blank eyes filled with more anguish than the amount of space in the universe. His heart quite literally shatters at the thought of your angelic smile. His voice comes out in a breathy murmur, soft and soothing as he gently traces the lines on the stone.

“Hey. I-I’m here again. God, this is so fucking stupid isn’t it? I’m sorry, it just-just hurts so much. I haven’t figured out how to live without you. It hurts too much to not see you, to not be able to touch you, to not be able to have you in my life. I love you, I love you so fucking much and if that means pouring my heart out to you on a rainy day, then so be it. You are the light of my life, and you’d probably be scolding me for crying, for dwelling on my feelings, but I can’t help it. I was going to marry you. I decided that I was going to propose on our anniversary, which is actually today.”

The words are falling from his mouth before he can stop them, and he can taste the saltiness from his tears on the tip of his tongue, and yet even the streams of grief aren’t enough to wash away the anguish that envelopes his entire being. It feels as though he’s drowning, the water rising faster than he can fight it, filling his lungs and yet there’s nothing he can do but breathe it in.

“I was going to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d decided, and we’d talked about our wedding, and the color dress you wanted, the flavor of cake we’d decided on, and we decided we were going to have kids. I had the ring ready, I made a reservation two weeks before just to make sure it would be at your favorite restaurant. I bought my suit already, I had the whole day planned out. In fact, I almost proposed to you that day in the diner, at two o’clock in the morning and goddamnit I wish I did. But I’m just too much of a coward and I loved you too much, getting lost in your eyes as you laughed over some shitty joke. It would’ve been worth it, to be promised as yours even if it only lasted two weeks. I’m never going to stop loving you, and I know you hate it when I cry, but I just have to tell you. If only I-“

Another sob tears through his throat, disrupting the peaceful silence that has settled in the quiet field of flowers. All of a sudden, his body is shaking with the sobs that erupt from his throat, the bitter scars and broken pieces of his heart pouring out of him. He waits a few moments, steadying his breathing and piecing himself back together before he continues. He has to finish, he can’t bear to hold onto the feelings anymore. They sit like burdens on his chest as another sleepless night passes, they hang onto the tips of his fingers when he grips onto the tear-stained sheets. He waits until he feels ready to continue.

“I brought you flowers. Primroses. And you’re probably thinking that I’m such a cheesy dork for it, and I am, but they’re primroses because the florist told me they mean eternal love. This sounds so fucking stupid but it’s worth it if it makes you smile. I wish I could see you smile again. But, I have to go now, Jimin-hyung will murder me if I don’t make it to dance practice on time. I’ll see you next week, hm? God, I probably sound like an idiot right now. I’ve always been your idiot though.”

He wipes away the wet patches of salty liquid that stain his cheeks, the skin around his puffy eyes blotchy, streaked with tears. But there’s a small, half-tender half-sad smile playing across his lips when he finishes.

For the first time in a long while, Jungkook smiles a genuine, real smile.

“I love you, I really hope you know that.”

the read more link doesn’t work on mobile, i’m sorry 🥺 thank u for reading pls reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!!

[pinkykitten]

Hey Dad

The Good Doctor Neil Melendez x teen! platonic reader

Specific/Warnings: mentions of jumping from one foster home to another, accident, surgery, angst, fluff, one-shot, requested, race neutral reader, teen reader, platonic relationship

Words: 2,220

Requested: By anon Could you do a Melendez x Teen!reader oneshot where he fosters her and she’s like really chaotic and thinks he’s like all her others foster parents and he seems so lost, and she gets into an accident and he does the surgery and that’s when she changes and calls him dad pls?

Authors Note: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS ONE SO I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS ANGST BUT THEN FLUFF PIECE. I HOPE ALSO I GOT THE REQUEST GOOD CUZ THIS ONE MEANS A LOT TO ME. I HOPE U ALL LIKE THIS ROLLERCOASTER. 

“She comes tonight?” Claire asked curiously to her boss. “I can’t believe you actually signed up for something like this.”

“I saw her a couple years ago on the E.R. and I felt bad for her. She was hopping from one foster parent to the other and that’s no life for a kid. She seems like a great person so why not help her and let her stay with me until they have a proper home for her.”

Claire couldn’t help but fall in love more with her boss. “I think that is the sweetest thing you have ever said. I never knew you had this side to you.” She nudged him. 

He rolled his eyes and showed a picture of you to the rest of his colleagues. “I have her room all ready but I’m really nervous.”

The whole room erupted in a symphony of awes. 

“You’re so cute,” Claire smiled wickedly as she messed with Neil’s doctor’s coat.

Neil rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying, this is a new thing for me. I’ve never had a child. I don’t know what she’ll like, whats her favorite food? What’s her favorite color? What does she like to do?”

“Well, thats the beauty of it. You’ll get to talk to her and know her. Maybe nobody has really asked her that question.”

“I want to be the perfect foster dad. Is that too much to ask?”

Claire placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She wished in her life somebody like Neil was in her life. A father figure that was actually caring. “Nobody is perfect Neil. What matters is that you try your hardest and listen to her thoughts.”

Neil got dinner ready for you. He ordered from everywhere, not knowing what you enjoyed eating. 

He was setting up the table when the doorbell rang. 

Neil closed his eyes, getting himself prepared and ran to the door. As he opened it up you were there. His pride and joy. 

“Hey Y/N! Come in, come in.” He brought his arm up as he welcomed you into his home.

You looked around suspiciously. For a single man he lived quite nice. You knew he was a doctor but you didn’t know he lived this richly. You met him a couple of times during your trips to the E.R. and always opened up about your life in foster care but you never knew he was going to take you in one day. You were very surprised and shocked to see him make such an effort. But you were over foster parents. They let you down and didn’t truly care about you. Nobody really wanted a kid like you, nobody really wanted Y/N L/N.

With no enthusiasm you brought your suitcase to the entrance, “thanks. Want me to put this in a room?”

“Yeah, we’ll put it in your room.”

Your room? You thought. Not many foster parents gave you your own room. They always stuck you with the other children or put you on the couch. It was always the same. 

Neil led you up the stairs, picking up your suitcase for you. He led you to a big room that was spacious. It was plain but very beautiful with cream colored bed decorations and a light grey wall. 

“I didn’t want to decorate it and paint it in case you didn’t like it. You can pick what you want if you’d like tomorrow. And you have your own bathroom.”

You were stone cold, speechless. You never had this love before. You felt your heart was about to burst. “This is all for me?” Tears blurred your vision. 

“Yeah, I hope you like it.”

“It’s great, thank you for this.” It was a beautiful room. It was more than you could ask. Nobody ever did this for you. You touched the sheets and they felt like silk between your fingers. Neil gave you the best of the best. This meant a lot but you were still not certain. You still had doubts. 

“I got dinner in case you were hungry, its downstairs.”

You were hungry and your stomach growled. You were led downstairs and on the kitchen table was a feast. There were every type of dishes there. Your mouth was salivating as you smelled the aroma. 

“I didn’t know what you liked so I got everything.” Neil chuckled bashfully. He was such a dad and he was realizing this. 

You laughed as you dug into everything, “can I say that all this is my favorite?”

Neil sat down beside you, “I’ll make note of that.”

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, you thought. Maybe this was going to be fun and someone in your life you could depend on and trust. Someone who would protect you no matter what. 

You munched away as you stared more at his house. He lived in a mansion. You were astounded as to how one person could live like this. “Your house is amazing. When I grow up I want to live like this.”

Neil chuckled, “being in a house like this, when you’re one person its not all that its cracked up to be. Trust me.”

You played around with your dish as the air became awkward. “So whats the grossest surgery you’ve ever done?”

Neil wiped his mouth and sat back with his hands cupping the back of his head, “oh you wouldn’t believe this.”

“Try me doctor.”

Neil smiled, “well this one time this old lady came in with pain in her stomach well right when we lifted her dress she had waste come all out of her and onto me. It was like an explosion, right before my eyes.” Neil started to giggle loudly as the memory came back to him. “That’s when I was new.”

You covered your mouth from the disgust. “You’re right, I don’t believe it. That’s so disgusting oh my gosh.” You pushed your food away. “I think I lost my appetite.”

“Now what about you? Are you like the kids these days that go and dance on Tik Tok? Or are about sipping that tea.”

The drink you were sipping almost came out of your nose. You busted out laughing hysterically. “I can’t believe this, you are such a dad that’s its almost cringy.”

“Cringy? You lost me.” It was the truth, Neil was lost. As a foster parent he didn’t know what kids were into these days (he just did a quick search before you came) and he wanted to try his hardest. He wanted to be the best for you, he wanted to prove to you that he was serious about this. 

“You got a lot to learn. But no, I’m not those types of kids. I instead like to read and draw, it brings my mind out of reality and into my own imagination of something better.”

“I do the same with surgery.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I block out the rest of the world when I am performing surgery. This person is depending on me to help them so they can feel better and get back to their old lives. I hope to save them from reality in doing my best in saving their lives.”

“Wow,” you looked at his hands resting on the table. Those hands did miracles. “I would like to do that when I’m older. I want to help someone too.”

“Good goal.”

You were too much of a coward to open yourself up to love this person as your father. You were afraid he would leave you and not want you like the others. You couldn’t trust him. You blocked yourself from the world and nothing, nobody could stop the feeling. 

“Why don’t you trust me?” Neil patted your head. He wrapped you in his coat and hugged you tight, protective.

You had tears threatening to spill over. You wouldn’t let yourself succumb to the love that Neil was giving you. You couldn’t let yourself fall for something fake and then go through it all over again. Your heart couldn’t take it. 

You pushed Neil away, wiping your eyes. “No! Okay, no! I appreciate all that you did but they are going to take me away and they are going to tell you reasons to leave me. You are going to leave me. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’m not going to do any of that. Y/N I would never leave you sweetheart. I know it is hard to trust me but I am here for and I always will be. You didn’t such harsh treatment and I’m sorry for that but I am going to help you with it and I want to be the one to raise you and be there for you. It’s a hard thing to ask but please trust me on this. Please.”

You shook your head, “I can’t trust no more.”

You put on your hoodie and ran in the pouring rain. 

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You didn’t stop. The rain was cold and you almost forgot how you got into the conversation with Neil. 

It was about a woman. 

You weren’t jealous, you just had been through something like this already. Foster parent finds a new match and then they want to start their own family, without you. It was an ongoing and continuous thing. 

You didn’t know where you were going and what you were to do but you couldn’t go back and probably Neil wouldn't want you back. You wished the new family all the love in the world. 

The rain made the sidewalks slippery. It was coming down cats and dogs. You could barely make out what was in front of you. Rain dripped down your nose and onto your drenched clothes. 

You needed to go across the busy street in order to get to the other side. You thought the cars stopped. You went ahead and your life flashed before your eyes. As soon as your shoes touched the middle of the crosswalk a car tried to push the brakes but the road was so slippery it skidded to you and hit you so hard your body flew high and far. It all seemed in slow motion. What you didn’t know was Neil had ran after you and was on the side walk opposite from you crying and sobbing a mess. 

“Y/N no please no. Please sweetheart please don’t leave me like this.” He cradled your bruised face. Your eyes closed as you were knocked out and blood dripped down your nose. 

Neil brought you into his car and drove you fast, straight to the hospital to run tests and perform surgery on you. 

“Are you sure you can take this Dr. Melendez?” Clair asked, worried for her friend. 

“Just please let us do this! Please! Every second that passes by with us talking we are wasting time! I need to do this, I need to make sure she is okay!” Neil had tears stream down his wet cheeks. You were his life. You were his daughter. 

As Neil performed surgery on you he couldn’t help but whisper, “please don’t leave me Y/N, please don’t leave me.” He saw your precious face that made him smile. There was no way he would leave you. You were his family. 

His hands shook as he grabbed onto the scalpel, he gained his composure and needed to save your life. There were no if and’s or buts you were going to live and he was going to make sure of this. 

He completed the surgery and you were in your bed, out and quiet which was different for him since you were always talking and laughing and being chaotic. 

He was there with you through it all. 

He held onto your hand as you laid there. “Y/N if you can hear me know that you are my kid okay. I don’t plan on giving you up. I want you to be part of the family. I’m sorry if I didn’t show that in my actions or prove it but there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I don’t see you as a foster kid, I see you as my daughter. Forever and always, I love you.” He cried softly. 

Your eyes fluttered open. With a weak voice you said, “I love you too dad.”

Neil opened his eyes. He thought this was dream. Was it real? You called him dad. His heart almost exploded. “Y/N oh my God you’re awake! Oh thank God.” He embraced you tightly, almost fretting to let go. He kissed the top of your head as tears dropped lightly on your skin. 

“I’m sorry dad for making you scared and for running away. I was just afraid of trusting and opening my heart but I don’t want to run away anymore and I don’t want to be alone anymore. Can I stay dad?”

Neil cupped your face. “Can you stay? Of course you can stay sweetheart. Don’t apologize. You are more brave and strong than you know.”

You chuckled as tears blurred your vision as well, “thanks dad for saving my life. You saved my life twice now.”

“Twice?”

You hugged Neil, “yeah you saved my life by performing surgery and you saved my life by becoming my dad. Thank you, forever and ever.

Tag list: @harrington-lover​​, @angelgl16​​, @perfectlybeautifulsuit​​, @hyehoney​​, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly​​​, @totally-alexa21​​, @creamy-pasta-boi​​, @multireese​​, @fanfictionrecommendations-com​​, @prentisskelley​​, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97​​, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople​​, @collectiveyou​​, @wtfisalltherandoms​​, @dirbel​​, @eastcoasthaven​​, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories​​​​

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

Please Reblog, like or comment! It means a lot to me and I truly appreciate it:)

[tendoki]

pulling up with a baby with tendou bc of the quarantine and how the team would react pls 🥺 i feel like coach washijo would be happy and would try to convince yall to let the bby go to shiratorizawa 🤣

anon ive been having the worst day but this request made me lose my shit thank u so much GOOD LORD LMFAOO

I did my best to do this request JUSTICE lol. it turned into general baby havin hcs but I hope you like it regardless!! its rlly long so my bad 🥺

Shiratorizawa reacting to Tendou + his s/o leaving lockdown w a mfin BABY

OK. so he was prob at your apartment when the lockdown was announced

so since all his shit was already there, he had clothes and a toothbrush n it was just generally more convenient for him to stay at your place

he did! he messaged his mom to let her know where hed be, she Didnt Mind lol (we dont know much ab tendous family so?? aah)

now. not saying yall spent all ur time fucking. but u 100% did

and since u ran out of birth control and condoms pretty soon into quarentine......... 👀

both of u sorta just went

FUCK IT

both of you were pretty in love anyway, and even if things didnt work out, you guys figured that youd always work together to be the best parents for the kid you could possibly be

which led to were ur at now. a measly week out of quarantine. n ur being rushed to the labour ward.

tendou is RUNNING AFTER U W HIS LONG ASS LEGS

shiratorizawa closed for the rest of the academic year, which meant that as a 3rd year, you guys and a lot of the team wouldnt see eachother in uniform again

but not to worry!! to make up for the missed celebrations theyve organised a prom and a couple days where 3rd years can come in and give proper goodbyes to everyone, including the coaches!!

everyone on the team showed up, because they wanted to say bye to their senpais 🥺🥺

but. that's like 3 months from ur labour

so when u n tendou pull up to the school, with a 3month old CHILD they r. astounded.

they know its u guys' tho

literally theres not even the possibility for a JOKE that u cheated on tendou because the kid has the same fucking hair.

it's only a little tuft (u know what anime babies look like lol) but that nose n that hair? TENDOU SATORIS GENES CAME THRU

the baby has ur eyes. and compared to the rest of its tiny little face?? they're fucking HUGE

you guys let ushijima hold him (I feel like youd have a son?) and ngl ushi cries.

it's a single tear but tendou will INSIST that waka was SOBBING years afterward

everyone is so attached to the kid sorry

USHIJIMA IS THE GODFATHER LMAO DID U EXPECT ANYTHING ELSE???

the baby is so attached to semi tho!!! the second semi reaches forward to hold the kid and poke at its fat lil cheeks, hes giggling and blubbering up at his uncle semi 🥺

JWJDJD GOSHIKI FREEZES WHEN YOU OFFER HIM TO HOLD THE KID. HE JUST GOES PALE AND FREEZES UP

REON IS SO GOOD WITH THE BABY

he offers to help you guys go shopping for more baby stuff 🥺🥺 and when his mom finds out ab the kid (team sleepovers were at reons house n u were ALWAYS invited so she LOVES U sorry I make the rules)

she gives u some of reons old baby clothes!!! n ur LOSING ur mind because WDYM THIS TALL MFER WAS ONCE LIKE A FOOT TALL AND WEARING A BLUE BEAR ONESIE???

she doesnt judge u for being a young mother!! I imagine she was too?? Reon is real respectful n I'll be damned if she isnt just as sweet

the coaches are already on your ass about toddler volleyball. they call up a couple friends and have already organized a group for teaching young Young YOUNG kids how to play despite ur son being. 3 months old.

the whole team is Maybe in love with your son

sorry. it's our son now. shiratorizawa owns ur kid :/

when shirabu is holding your boy. the whole team watches as semi get jealous????? over a kid that's NOT his???

hes petty and tells him that hes holding him wrong (hes not)

washijo is obsessed with ur baby. hes so proud of tendou. insisting that ur son being 'the size of a FAT volleyball' is a great sign for his skills in the court

the whole team. is offering money. they know u 2 are JUST out of highschool and with quarentine, are probably pretty low on cash??

BUT !! I 100% hc that tendou draws!! nd hes been doing a shit load of commissions for like. years LOL

n hes always saved that money!! he only spent it on shounen jump, which dont make too much of a dent in the money pile lol

besides he took emergency comms the second you guys found out ab the pregnancy

if you draw/write/do any work from home that's gets you money, then you do that too!!

he forces u to do less work than him tho because hes WORRIED AB U N THE BABY 🥺

but you guys appreciate the offers from your friends!!! Reon and Ushi's mom both volunteer to baby sit when you guys want a date night, thus ur child creating one hell of a friendship between the ex-captain and his vice's mothers 🥺

I'm not gonna go thru ALL the team members reactions

but they're all really happy!! ofc they scold tendou for not using protection and are MAJORLY GROSSED OUT KNOWING THAT THE TWO OF U HAVE INDEED HAD SEX

even tho the fact that satori is a Horny boy should be universal knowledge by now

the team is there for you guys while the baby grows up!! the second the kid can walk ushi is kneeling down and teaching him to spike

tendou is just as bad and insists that his son is a prodigy and should be a pro volleyball player already

LISTEN

TENDOUS SHIRATORIZAWA NUMBER??? HIS JERSEY

U GUYS GET A TINY VERSION OF THAT MADE

EVEN OF HE ISNT DOING VOLLEYBALL ANYMORE THIS MAN IS SO PROUD TO SEE HIS NUMBER ON HIS BOY 🥺🥺🥺👉🏻👈🏻

ur son is a mamas boy n it breaks tendous heart ngl

u make up for it by having a daughter a year or two down the line 😳 n shes OBSESSED with her dad it's cute but also BABY ur 4 please stop sleeping in mommy n daddies bed 🥺🥺🥺

also ur sons first words

oh boy

u can tell that the whole fuckin team has been teaching ur son volleyball stuff

u came home n ur son is sat in the living room SURROUNDED by ur (other) boys

ur (main) boy starts blubbing and bouncing at the sight of his mama 🥺 (or dada/other parent if ur an afab trans person!!!)

you tell off the team for tryna get ur baby into vball when hes barely 6months at this point

but before the boys all leave 🥺🥺 ur son grabs his favourite uncle semi and just goes

'sehtah!!!' (setter)

SEMI BREAKS DOWN CRYIBG LMAOOO

ngl tendou n u r kinda pissed that ur babies first words werent mama or dada. but then u see how happy semi is n u both just 🥺

semi is soft for your son and as the kid grows up hes still attached to him

he cant get away with being a brat though, boys got a whole mfing TEAM of dads/uncles PLUS grampy Washijo are ready to scold this boy

your son (and future daughter) are both SO loved though

theyve always got SOMEONE they know they can depend on

the team loves tendou and they love u, so OFC they ADORE any kids u guys have EVER.

they stay in contact with both of you even if you split up later on, they care enough about you guys that the y/n tendou powercouple is something every new generation of shiratorizawa volleyboys are taught about and introduced to

and YES ANON. WASHIJO DOES INSIST ON YOUR KID(S) GOIN SHIRATORIZAWA

they're guaranteed a spot!! they dont even have to work for it lmfaooo

mostly because coach threatens to leave the school and work with karasuno if they dont confirm them a place

it's an empty threat but it WORKS

the worldwide lockdown of 2020 is something you and tendou remember fondly forever 🥺

even if it was in bad circumstances the two of you made something so positive

this turned into general baby hcs with tendou MY BAD LOL IM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN AND ALSO CONSTANTLY GOING THRU BABY FEVER

[bi-and-bewildered]

yes pls elaborate on ur thoughts abt the s4 finale if u feel up to it :)

Okay, listen I loved these episodes (Season 4 Episodes 25&26) on a surface level so I’m gonna talk about that first and then we’ll end with me getting on my soapbox about ableism and stereotypes😌 (also let’s not talk about how S4 ended in 2009 and NOW I’m posting an analysis on it over 11 years later😳)

okay okay getting to my real thoughts (under the cut because my god I talk a lot)

JJ’s hair looks AMAZING

The first episode was hella boring like wow they really took a long time to get to the interesting stuff

however part 2 makes up for it because oh my god I am astounded

There was just something so incredibly sickening about the blood all over the table and the shoes in that bin

Rossi’s acting was a little weird (the interactions he had with the quadriplegic brother were very weirdly homoerotic)

I still don’t understand what the mirrors were for and why the brother liked looking at himself so much

The second I saw the victim’s brother sitting under the windowsill listening in I knew what was gonna happen

Same goes for when they started showing us longer shots of the Unsub, it was very clear they were going to end up killing him because of his behavior (which this part actually is pretty accurate because autistic and mentally handicapped people are high risk around police officers because many have little to no training on how to deal with the disabled and they often take non-threatening movements in a dangerous way)

The victim that ended up surviving was genuinely an amazing part of the episode. her acting was incredible and she definitely became someone I was rooting extremely hard for

Hotch’s monologue hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting (I was thinking of uploading a video of it with the transcript because it genuinely impacted me that much)

“And what about my team? How many more times will they be able to look into the abyss? How many more times before they won’t ever recover the pieces of themselves that this job takes?” This part in particular stuck with me, especially paired with Derek’s despair and general defeated behavior the entire episode

I knew Foyet was gonna be popping out and attacking Hotch and I still flinched (and basically rebooted my whole body) when the gunshot when off

Alright here is my obligatory speech about ableism:

It is heavily implied that the Unsub is autistic and mentally handicapped throughout the episode (it’s only stated out loud a single time however) and the way they handled the story line is extremely problematic and stereotypical.

I am autistic, some of my siblings are autistic, and I am heavily involved in the community and this part of the episode rubbed me the wrong way entirely. The Unsubs brother states that his brother “would not be able to survive without him” which not only perpetuates the stereotype that disabled and neurodivergent people are useless but also that they are burdens on their family.

It is heavily implied throughout the episode that the only reason the Unsub is a killer is because he is autistic and “doesn’t understand what he’s doing” when he obviously has been manipulated and groomed by a sociopath. I also found the stereotypes and behavior of the Unsub to be wildly inaccurate at best and harmful to the community at worst. While some behavior was accurate (although definitely exaggerated for dramatic purposes) the majority of it was a caricature of autistic individuals.

Obviously this episode was produced ridiculously long ago and it’s not the first time Criminal Minds has misrepresented a minority group, but I would be remiss to talk about this episode without at least addressing the obvious stereotyping demonstrated! I recognize this is a show and the behavior is amped up for dramatic purposes and blah blah blah but I definitely needed to talk about it.

Anyway you’re an absolute gem for asking because it feels amazing to type all of this out!!💛💛

[thehorizoncrew]

amm: crewmates, what is one personality trait u admire abt another crewmate? also pls get some sleep caly, ik u prob have a lot of asks but sleep is v important

Hongjoong: “San’s tenacity. Everyone on the crew is a fighter of course, but I think it’s something I see the most in San.”

Seonghwa: “Even though it often pains me to see, Jongho has a selflessness that is hard to replicate or compare. Despite being being younger, he is so ready to take on our burdens for us, and it’s a trait I wish I could have myself.”

Yunho: “Hongjoong is natural born leader. I’ve never met someone who can walk into a room and command the attention and respect of everyone in it the way he does.”

Yeosang: “As much as Hongjoong hates it, Seonghwa truly does have an uncanny ability to separate himself from his emotions when he wants to. For someone who... for someone it doesn’t come naturally to, he’s done a good job at learning how to do that.”

San: “Mingi has so much love and compassion in his heart that it’s hard to ever view him as someone who can’t be that way. I think it’s a testament to how far he’s come and how well he has done at learning to break old habits!”

Wooyoung: “Yeosang has a lot of traits that he doesn’t let the others see, but my favorite and the one I admire the most is how he can be blunt at times. It might seem like an odd thing to admire, but I’m a person who struggles to be upfront and say what I mean. Yeosang has to step up a lot and speak for me, so it’s something that I’ve always admired.”

Mingi: “Yunho’s patience with me is really astounding. Even though it’s not something I can necessarily control, I often wish I had that sort of willpower to be so patient with the people around me.”

Jongho: “Y/N is one determined little shit, and I think that perseverance is what I admire most about her. With all that has been thrust her way, she still moves forward and continues fighting.”

Y/N: “Wooyoung has always amazed me, especially when he talks of fate and not wanting to follow what it might have in store for him. That eagerness to go against what fate says is something I admire a lot.”

[hobidreams]

My bby, my friend, my goddess, my Rain, you already KNOW how much I LOVE THIS CHAPTER. June 1869 has been the absolute culmination of MLT for me thus far. We’ve seen their past and how they’ve grown up physically close, but metaphorically eons apart. We’ve watched her fall in love with boy yoongi and then even more so as king. Reading the way their relationship has evolved and grown over the years has been such a journey!! And I adore how their relationship is a mystery... but also not a mystery??? Does that even make sense??🤔🤔 Like… it’s no mystery (to me) how they feel about each other. She’s very clearly been smitten with him since childhood, and he has continuously proved she’s “the only one” for him. Aka first and only woman he’s been with, only woman he lets into his private library, thanks her for a task that is technically her job, and REFURBISHES THE PAVILLION FOR HER. The mystery for me is- how are they gonna get that happily ever after???🤔🤔 Anyways, I find that the whole first part is SO true to her character as a healer. The way she’s driven to help those people??? She has my whole heart🥺🥺. Also, the king insists on a personal guard??? Interesting that a person of her status (who’s easily replaceable) is protected this heavily… It’s like he cares about her or something😂😂. Also, bless Eunuch Kim’s heart for his kindness. Hahah he WOULD bring up some nerd ass book about bird or trees or something. Ok and now this is the part of my commentary that gets real NSFW 18+, children LOOK AWAY. The way he seems so fixed on undressing her reminds me of unwrapping a present. Yum. “... you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin.” EXCUSE ME IS HE KNEELING FOR HER???🥵🥵 Something tells me he has never knelt to anyone (except maybe his parents) in his life, and here he is on his knees for her. YUMMMMMx2. “It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you” I AM BURNING. YOONGI IN EVERY UNIVERSE POSSESSES THAT TONGUE TECHNOLOGY- PUT IT ON MY TOMBSTONE. But also, who taught yoongi to eat pussy??? 🥵🥵I highly doubt THAT was part of his sex ed seeing as female orgasms aren’t condusive to pregnancy hahah I noticed that since he started fucking her, he’s made her pleasure more and more of a priority as he’s navigated their sexual relationship and learned her body. Seems very true to real life relationships tbh- like it takes time and dedication to learn how to please your partner. OK, but yes the smut was GREAT. And I love that she’s gettin the oral *I WISH* I was gettin. BUT. That kiss!!!! 😩😩That scene was my FAVORITE part of this whole series so far!!! Like I’ve WAITED MONTHS FOR THIS INTIMACY. “... it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have been.” I feel like yoongi has had such a DIFFICULT time with the explicit expression of his feelings/emotions… and he’s finally making his point with the way he comforts her!! Like maybe sexual relief is what he equated with comfort and that’s what he gave her (also didn’t bother with his own needs like... whaaaa that’s a first👀). But he also recognizes that she needed intimacy too… and just holds her as she cries. What a turning point in their relationship!!! Like they really seemed like LOVERS for the first time and I am living for it!!! 🥰🥰Ah bless this couple. Ps the fact that you can turn a whole series around in such a concise way is astounding. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for this pair!! Somehow I feel like things are too good to be true and that something is coming to rock the boat👀👀. Anyways, I ADORED this update, Rain!!! ILYSM bby you always make my day brighter!!! 💕💕

i feel like reading your comments is always like being handed a piece of your favorite flavor of dessert & you just let it melt on your tongue while your brain melts into absolute bliss, YOU KNOW???? 😭😭😭 ahahah omg you are so right -- their relationship is just glaringly obvious but also absolutely shrouded in mystery hahah sorry to confuse you all the time ;) hahaha u rly have been so patient & i’m so so deeeelighted to give you the intimacy u deserve 💞 i like, no, LOVE your reading of this moment wahhhh 😍 you’ll have to wait to see if ur right tho HAHAH sorry my friend. there are... many many things lying in wait & i hope they’re all as exciting 💕 honestly the way the public opinion of Yoongi has changed has me chortling hehehe im so glad hes got some fans now 🤣🤣 thank u for this piece of wonderfulness, my love!!! PLS TAKE CARE!! get some rest 🙏🙏🙏 ilyyyyy

[normal-thoughts-official]

I'm ignoring my responsibilities in favor of watching the All Malec Moments video compilation so get ready for a livewatch no one asked for

Hodge is so incredibly wrong about everything he says about Magnus and it's kind of impressive because all he says is heavily supported by the Clave's files, which. Is proof of how great Magnus is at manipulating them and having them think exactly what he wants them to, tbh. Especially considering that as much as Magnus closes off emotionally, he was always very caring and kind to all other downworlders and warlocks, like, they all know they can trust him, he was named HWoB, he has a thousand kids, he took them all into hiding, etc. But the Clave and circle members are still 100% sure he's a super greedy lothario who's good for nothing but partying, and like. Obviously it's because they racist but they have an intelligence system and a file full of pictures and information and it all seems to support what Hodge is saying about him. So like Magnus was quite literally living a double life, with a whole personality he put up for shadowhunters and enemies, and another for his allies and friends, and even that one isnt 100% him because he was still trying to protect himself by closing himself off from relationships. and thats fucking impressive like my man is so smart i love him

Their first official talk is so funny magnus literally goes "I'm magnus" and Alec goes "Alec" and then he smiles and then he just goes. "Oh yeah right we should uh we should go to the hmm youhavebeautifuleyes what's it called hm" and its hilarious because they exchanged three (3) words and Alec is already all lost because Magnus is just That Beautiful. also all Magnus has to do is introduce himself and Alec smiles for the first time in 4 episodes like bro. bro. seriously. help him

he's SO frustrated when Alec doesn't get the "i love a dirty lair" flirt like he does that little eyebrow raise and hes just like "what the hell i thought that was GOOD" but Alec's head is legit playing wii music

Magnus pays izzy for "defending the warlocks" i had forgotten about that and it makes me so soft ;-;

Magnus and Izzy were just vibing with magnus asking her what presents Alec likes and clary immediately interrupts to ask about the memory demon like homophobic from day one i guess

Magnus is positively impressed by the way Clary goes "I'll do anything to save my mother" you can see how much he values loyalty right then have i mentioned that i love him

we talk about the "I'm talking to you" part a lot but we never mention how Magnus just throws that one and yeets off with clary not even waiting for a reaction he's just like that's RIGHT bitch you have beautiful hazel eyes too! do with that what you will i am now summoning a demon goodbye forever

the second him and Clary are away from the rest he tells her not to trust anyone and to be careful, like... ugh he cares so much it's unreal and again very deliberate, flirt a little, give izzy a necklace, throw in some innuendos, make it seem like it's all very innocuous so no one bothers to follow them or listen in when he goes away with Clary alone, and then immediately warn her about the clave when he gets away from the others. like he cares so much and he's so good at keeping that visible only for those he wants to it's astounding, my man is so talented and i hate that he had to learn to do that to survive but god i admire him and how committed he is to helping others too. like he could say "welp who cares it's dangerous imma go fuck off" like ragnor did but not only did he stay but he had a huge vulnerability with all his generosity and he never gave that up not for a second, even as he closed himself off from having any close friends or family or lovers, he never was anything if not generous and kind

the way he deliberately calls Jace shadowhunter in the most uninterested and even lowkey condescending way after the "pretty boy" incident idndjdndi we stan a king

the way Alec and magnus hold hands to summon the demon and even Magnus seems a bit shocked at the intensity of the sound and the bond that they make like. obviously they have their little staring contest and Alec is doing the Lightwood Intensity™ thing but like you can see Magnus frown just slightly and be a little confused because it was so strong right off the bat. even the sound of when they hold hands is louder than when the others do, like you can just feel their connection and the way magnus' magic flows so freely through Alec like god the soulmate energy tbh

Alec has a full body jerk when they hold hands too and he's the only one like damn we get it u 2 r vibin get a room

Izzy going "you ppl are pathetic" straight to the hets is so funny especially after Alec reacted to holding magnus' hand like he had gotten a 1000W electric shock or something. but i get the feel maybe she did that deliberately so they wouldnt pay as much attention to Alec's reaction too

the special effects were truly so bad like we all knew this but damn

Jace is such an asshole like Alec made it to kill the demon because it was you know about to seriously hurt them all and Magnus had just said that he couldn't contain the demon for longer (and like we know that Alec is the only one who ever cared if Magnus overexerted himself out of the shadowhunters but like bro this affects you) and Jace just???? shoved him??????? against the wall???? like a fucking piece of shit??? they should have let valak kill him tbh

the first time magnus calls him Alexander is when he calls Alec to see if he wants a drink and it's just like very clearly a thing that's supposed to be between them two? like he never did it when there were others nearby and i dig that

the fact that when asking Alec out he said "it was nice getting to know you, you seem sympathetic" like he could have gone with a lot of better more flirty adjectives but for a second the truth slipped out and he said what he thought - that while Alec was objectively you know tall and strong and all what really attracted him was the way Alec clearly gave a fuck whether or not Magnus was struggling with his magic to keep the damn demon at bay. and that was before the magic sharing shit too when Alec proved him right by cleaning up his things and saying that he had exerted himself enough for one day. like so many ppl see Magnus as the All Powerful Son Of Asmodeus Who's Also There To Service Shadowhunters and Alec just shows the faintest signs of caring about his wellbeing and he's immediately drawn to him like damn Im sad

also maybe this might be why he asked Alec to come so he could draw from his strength specifically, like he knew from the little hand holding thing that Alec was open and receptive to his magic (which probably adds to the "sympathetic" stuff like the fact that Alec had such an intense reaction to his magic and yet didnt try to push it back or draw away from it basically shows that he's open to Magnus if that makes sense? not only because magic is a part of warlocks but also because shadowhunters are all taught that magic is like, dirty and evil, so it would be instinctive for Alec to be resistant to demonic magic in his body, but he wasn't, he accepted it so readily and intensely it was a shock to the both of them) and also that he cared enough to support him. he kinda had Magnus' back from the beginning, first killing that circle member in the club before Magnus even saw him, then helping Magnus kill the other, then immediately making it to kill the demon when Magnus said he couldn't hold him back for long. like im aware I'm reading too much into this but s1 malec was very kept to the between-the-lines and its very interesting to me to think what Magnus was thinking, even if obviously on a subconscious level. Alec was showing himself to be open, reliable and caring, and magnus values that, and hes attracted to him and he hasnt had that in a while, because he wouldnt allow himself, but now he's healing and the pull he feels when he finally gets that while being emotionally available enough to accept these little gestures of caring is really strong. love that for him tbh

i go FERAL over everything about the magic sharing shit okay i always have. the way alec shows up and Magnus is kind of falling over, exhausted from trying to hold onto luke, and Alec immediately runs to support his weight and make sure hes okay? and magnus even as he was about to fall over never had his magic falter, my man couldn't keep his balance but still wouldnt come close to stumbling and risking luke's life further for even a second. so when Alec gets there he's just quite literally having his back, supporting his weight, when even Magnus didnt care about that (which like. unhealthy) and was focused on luke? and like Magnus can focus on luke because Alec is there to give him his support and make sure he's fine and how long's it been since he last had someone to do that?? and it's clearly alec's first instinct and like we know Jace or even Clary wouldnt fucking react like that. and then they have this ridiculous fucking staring contest again like we get it alec you're gay panicking at Magnus' beautiful eyes but like pls? and then we get to the most important part which is TAKE WHAT YOU NEED

like JDNDJSNSKDNDJDBSHSBSUSNSISNSIBSZJBZUZBSJSBSISNSSINSIS *SCREAMS INTO OBLIVION, SENDING SELF OUT OF EARTH'S GRAVITY ZONE*

his reaction is just SO intense and immediate he's just like "take what you need" he just offers himself fully to help Magnus just like that, no hesitation, and like Magnus is literally drawing from Alec's strength/life force, there should be some kind of resistance, even from a regular person or a friend, like its a very natural instinct. but Alec just grabs his hand and goes take what you need and he doesn't resist he just lets him do it and lets Magnus take his strength, because he genuinely worries about his wellbeing and safety just because he does, he believes in protecting others and being there for them, same as Magnus, and to Alec it's the most natural thing in the world but to Magnus it's shocking because he's always been self reliant, he has to be, he's been alone too many times and he's been used too many times and he's scared of what he'll let people take from him if he opens himself up because he always gives and gives, and he hasnt even let anyone be there for him to have his back and give him support when he needed in these last few centuries, not fully, not since Camille. but Alec shows up and just immediately cares for him in both small (like later when he refuses to let Magnus clean his couch magically because he knows he's tired and does it himself) and huge (like literally not hesitating before letting Magnus use a super intimate and presumably draining spell on him without putting any kind of limit, so Magnus can not overexert himself like he always does) ways and it means so much to him? and hes just so drawn and attracted to him and suddenly he realizes he's catching feelings that he had forgotten how to, because of course he had been healing and opening up, but he still kept people at some kind of length that didnt allow them to take care of him even if they wanted to, but Alec got that opening and he dived right in, and Magnus realizes how starved he's been for this kind of care and support that he's been denying himself and he decides to chase this, take it seriously, and i just aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

and like again Alec doesn't even think twice about it, because he's always been the protector and the support anyway, and he doesn't want to let anyone struggle and also most of that is just him being a Decent Human Being, but just like he got that opening that no one else did before, he met Magnus at the right time and he was sympathetic and caring and that sparked so much in Magnus, made him realize just how much he's been craving affection and care and close contact with people, and being vulnerable emotionally, and all of that that he's been denying himself. obviously magnus is romantically attracted to him but right then Alec is unlocking honesty with himself inside of magnus, he's unlocking vulnerability and not using it against him but really making a good thing out of it, and magnus' forgotten it could feel like this, safe and nice instead of hurting and scary. and again it's such a simple gesture but fuck my boy's been starved!! for so long!!! okay! and he can't help but want to desperately clutch to that feeling because against all odds he trusts alec to see his vulnerability right then (and he deliberately lets him see it further when he gives Alec that drink, tells him he's been closed off, that alec's unlocked something in him. you can see all the sadness and hope and vulnerability in his eyes right then, pretty much for the first time in the show, hes just so open and vulnerable and that's deliberate! first time was a fluke but second time he's choosing to because he wants to see where this goes, and if the magic sharing scene is the spark, the drinking scene is the fire, because they're not in a life or death situation anymore, Magnus is choosing to give Alec a chance by showing him a glimpse of his insecurities and Alec answers in kind, letting Magnus see his own confusion and want, and also again shows his caring and doesn't betray or use magnus' vulnerability and fuck!!! Magnus falls in love right then because this boy stays with him all night and talks, and he sees Magnus look at him with shiny eyes and admit that he's been scared of relationships, and he tells magnus not to overexert himself, and they click and Alec is open to his magic and hes funny and hes compassionate and also passionate about what he believes in, and they have so much in common with the way they hide and care so deeply and protect others always and are so loyal and i just. udndjdndidjdjxnxjxnskxndk SOULMATES god)

I need to lie down actually this was a bad idea I'm not strong enough I'm too feral

Might continue this later who knows. I'll be tagging malec livewatch and also long post as always if you want to filter this nonsense out