#and when i saw there was an anime i literally just watched the three available episodes immediately

[haikyu-mp4]

Hi! Your Haikyuu x 1D event sounds so exciting! I was initially going to request Better Than Words with Nishinoya but it's no longer available 🙈 If it's still available, could I please listen to I Would with Nishinoya instead? I love the song but I always found it sad. If it's still available, I'm excited to see how you write it, I'd always choose Noya over anyone ❤️ Thank you for doing this! Hope you're doing good!

Now playing... I Would

word count; 624 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

Training camp is not for the weak. That’s what Nishinoya said as he was forming an alliance with Tanaka and Yamamoto so that the three of them could protect their precious managers.

Kiyoko had managed to recruit you around the same time as Yachi, meaning you were still quite new to the volleyball club. Because Nishinoya was in your class, he saw it as his responsibility to make sure you were comfortable and happy. It might also be because of his huge crush on you, but that’s still up for debate.

Every moment he’s not immersed in a practice game, he’s keeping a watchful eye on you. His mental reports mostly say “smiling”, “looking cute” and “clapping, probably for me”, so he’s happy with the progress so far. You seem to be settling in very well.

Until there’s a break, and while he’s chugging down more water than what should fit in his body, he sees you flirting it up with Kuroo, standing between two of the courts.

Kuroo could never be the right guy for you. He could never treat you the way Nishinoya would. He’s also way too tall, it would be bad for your neck.

Noya’s gasp was audible and made you turn your head, only to see your favourite libero with his teeth practically bared like an animal. You chuckled under your breath, shaking your head and telling Kuroo good luck on his next game.

When you returned to your team’s side, you bumped your elbow into Nishinoya’s arm. “Hey there, tiger. Ready for the next set?”

Nishinoya lifted his chin with that cheeky smile on his lips. “Always.”

He acted like usual, most of the time. Nothing could disturb his focus as Karasuno’s guardian. However, any time off the court, his attention is dedicated to you.

Nishinoya watched as Kuroo offered up his dessert to you after dinner. As he made you swoon with his undeniable charm.

And as you’re on dishwashing duty one of the last evenings, Nishinoya strolls into the room and practically scares the life out of you. “Has he said he’s in love with you?”

“Who?” His hair is still dripping, he must have just washed up. You put down what you were doing and shake the soapy water off your hands.

“That boyfriend of yours, Kuroo Tetsuro.”

“Kuroo?” You laughed but then did a double-take. “Boyfriend?!” By now, Noshinoya had crossed his arms, and you almost wondered if you were in trouble.

“Has he said he’s in L-O-V-E? Because I would.”

“You… would?” you ask slowly, not quite understanding what the problem is. Noya walks closer and puts one hand on each of your upper arms.

“You’re literally so cool and pretty.” You looked down at each of his hands and then back at his face with wide eyes.

“Thank you,” you squeaked. “But Kuroo isn’t my boyfriend.”

Noshinoya blinked once, twice, and then quickly let go of you. A light blush blossomed on his cheeks as he realised he might have gotten ahead of himself there. “Right. That’s what I came in here to ask you…”

By now you’ve ditched your confusion to laugh at him, one hand covering your mouth so it wouldn’t be so loud. “Then the answer is no! But I appreciate the compliments.”

Noya chuckled, never one to falter for long. At least you’re laughing and not just awkwardly crawling away from him. “You can have as many as you want.”

“Because you’re in L-O-V-E?” Nishinoya thought his heart might beat out of his chest because that smug look on your face right then was exactly what made him fall so hard in the first place. The same look you had after naming his signature move rolling thunder.

“Exactly.”

masterlist

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Hello.....How are you? Thanks so much for sharing your analysis in your blog. I'm new to BL. I felt really helped in finding your blog. I lived in a country where LGBTQ+ is considered taboo and my own family saw it as something sinful. Until I found mlm fanfics (I know it's a ridicilous reason for why now I'm interested in BL & GL media).

Can I ask, what are your top 7 (or top 5) favorite BL media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series) ? Why do you love them? And your top 5 (or top 3) favorite GL media? Sorry for asking similar question like from someone before (hope you don't mind).

Thanks again, @wen-kexing-apologist 💐🌻🌷

Hello! So sorry this took so long to respond to, I have been really busy and this write up took me a bit of time to get together. 

Thanks for reaching out, I’m sorry that your family sees queerness as sinful. I’m sure we come from different countries, and different cultures, but I hope I can give you some comfort by saying I am proud of who I am and I love being queer. I love my queer friends, they are without a doubt the kindest and most caring people I have ever met. And you do not need to apologize at all for asking a similar question to a previous ask. I also hope you know that it is not ridiculous at all to have your eyes opened by mlm fanfiction, I promise. 

So my list of (some) of my favorite BLs are:

ITSAY/IPYTM

180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us 

Moonlight Chicken

—

The Eclipse 

Our Dining Table

La Pluie

He’s Coming to Me 

What Did You Eat Yesterday? (adding this as a special #8 because it is one of my favorites but may be hard to find)

You’re My Sky

Gameboys

Because this is a similar ask to one I recently got I am going to direct you to that for my explanations on 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us (available on Gagaoolala), I Told Sunset About You and I Promise You The Moon (available on Viki), and Moonlight Chicken (available on YouTube) and add three other shows: What Did You Eat Yesterday?, You’re My Sky, and Gameboys.

If you stick around in this fandom long enough you will start to see that Bad Buddy (available on YouTube) is one of most beloved shows on tumblr. I love love love that show, but it is not in my favorites the way these other shows are. However, I would HIGHLY recommend you watch it if you haven’t already. It is incredible, and a very important piece of BL history both for the level of popularity it gained and the way it subverted BL as a genre. 

That said, let’s get in to my favorite BLs and why I love them, again in alphabetical order: 

Gameboys

(Pinoy BL- Season 1: Available on YouTube or Netflix, Season 2: Available on Gagaoolala in Asia or with a VPN that can make it seem like you are in Asia)

Contains Themes of: Quarantine, COVID, death, queer character being outed against their will

I literally just finished the first season of this show today, but have to thank @bengiyo for telling me this is what I should watch next because I absolutely loved it. It is the story of two boys, stuck in quarantine in the Phillipines during the COVID pandemic that meet over an online game and fall in love. I agree with Ben that this is an incredibly well handled pandemic story, the actors are fantastic, their chemistry is believable and natural, and I appreciate that they let these boys be horny for each other. I loved watching the highs and lows of their blossoming relationship and I am so looking forward to watching Season 2 when they are together in person and seeing if and how that changes their dynamic. 

He’s Coming to Me

(Thai BL- Available on YouTube) 

Contains Themes of: death of a teenager (related to heart problems), murder

I talked about this show in one of my tag games as my pick for most underrated series in Thai QL. Which I stand by because this show did not have the distribution it should have due to fan interference because they were upset about Singto being moved from a match up with Krist to instead star opposite Ohm. 

This is a show that I have labeled as By, For, and About Queer people. This is an Aof Noppharnach piece that is just absolutely beautiful in the way it explores the growing realization about your own queerness as Ohm’s character (Thun) starts to develop feelings for Singto’s character (Med). I love the additional layer to this show that comes with Med being a ghost who can only be seen by Thun, and how we don’t just get an explicitly queer character in an explicitly queer relationship, but that we also get a metaphor for queerness in the fact that Thun has to keep himself and his abilities private. When he hangs out with Med in public, no one can see him, and Thun often ends up talking to air, which results in people constantly staring at him in confusion, concern, or disgust. This show will remind you that Ohm has always been The Actor of All Time, the way his voice creaks in this show still haunts me to this day. I liked the mystery element in this show, I loved the rooftop confessions and the coming out scene. I loved all the ways this show was just so so so queer. Now that it has been released to the general public, I think every person who watches Thai BL should watch this show. 

La Pluie 

(Thai BL- Available on IQIYI) 

Contains Themes of: lying to a romantic partner

God this show is an incredible, brilliant, perfectly executed subversion of the soulmates trope. A theme I am generally sensing in the content I am sharing is that queer characters are allowed to be flawed human beings. Tai needs to learn how to use his words, Patts is perfect but does have a temper that he is managing extremely well, Tien is perfect but does constantly undermine and underplay his own emotions to support the other people in his life, Lomfon is rude. This show has a lot of very smart things to say, and allows its characters to both experience desire, and sexual frustration, it uses giving sexual pleasure as a way for a character to maintain control over new forms of intimacy. Myself and my fellow clowns on this website (especially @bengiyo and @lurkingshan) have fought for this show tooth and nail for weeks upon weeks to make sure that as many people as possible were watching this absolutely beautiful show. 

Our Dining Table

(Japanese BL- Available on Gagaoolala)

Contains Themes of: death, child neglect, grief

This is a very short, very sweet, wonderful spot of comfort and warmth. Its main themes are found family and navigating grief. It has the cutest little boy in the world who is just a bouncing ball of sunshine, and he and this show won my entire heart. I love this show for what it says about family, about care and love, sacrifice and healing. Even for the parts of the show that center around pain, this show is just so full of joy. I loved watching Yutaka open up, loved watching Minoru have a chance to relax, I loved Ueda-san getting to watch his son fall in love to become happier by way of existing around his sons’ happiness. I love that Minoru is very much an older brother to Tane, not a parent, despite how much care he gives him, and I love that Yutaka and Tane are genuinely friends. 

The Eclipse

(Thai BL- Available on YouTube)

Contains Themes of: threats against protestors (including cars rolling in to crowds), suicide, grief, internalized homophobia, homophobia, authoritarianism, emotional manipulation, thoughts of suicide, queer character being outed against their will

This is absolutely one of my favorite BLs, beyond the fact that the acting is incredible, the characters are allowed to be very flawed, very complex, and very morally gray the story itself is incredibly layered and is a huge social commentary on rebelling against authoritarianism, the ways in which identities and oppression are leveraged against marginalized people to get them to commit heinous acts against the people they should be standing with and not against. This show touches on so many different things: justice, hypocrisy, manipulation, love, fear, internalized homophobia, rebellion, activism. This show gave me both my favorite war criminal and his rat bastard boyfriend. It has some of my favorite kisses and favorite crying scenes. And it introduced me to the powerhouse duo of First and Khaotung. 

What Did You Eat Yesterday?

(I am honestly not sure where you can find this easily, outside of @kinounaniresource. there is one season, a special, and a movie. There is a Season 2 on the way, and I am also not sure when it is going to be released or if it is going to be released on any particular platform)

Contains Themes of: internalized homophobia, homophobia, character with history of child abuse

I am honestly not sure if this technically qualifies as a BL, but it is certainly a show that centers around an already established, older gay couple. This is a story about a couple staying together, and there is an undercurrent of long carried pain that is tucked so neatly between the layers of cooking, and eating, and love for one another. I do not really know how to explain this show beyond it just being one of the best things out there. We are so so lacking in elder queer content, honestly this is the only show I have seen out of 60+ QLs I have watched in the last year that has a main queer couple over the age of probably 25. I love the dynamic between Shiro and Kenji so much because who doesn’t love couples comprised of one puppy dog of a man and one man with the energy of a very annoyed cat? 

You’re My Sky

(Thai BL- available on Viki) 

Contains Themes of: betrayal, cheating, sports related injury

This show has some of the most beautiful, saturated coloring of any show I have ever seen, the influence of I Told Sunset About You is incredibly clear (which makes sense because a screenwriter and director on You’re My Sky was a Screenwriter on ITSAY/IPYTM). I am not a huge sports person, but I do love a sports drama, and this one does a stellar job with the way it shoots it’s basketball games. It has Suar, who I was first introduced to as Tien in La Pluie as the main character and he is just SO. GOOD. This dude has been in three shows TOTAL and he just absolutely DEMOLISHES this role, and his role in La Pluie. Seriously, even if you could not give two shits about basketball (as a sport I do not, in this show I care very much) you should watch this show just to see Suar run a masterclass in acting. 

Girl Loves 

Unfortunately, there are not a lot of girl love shows that exist, the only one I have even seen coming out of Asia is GAP the series (a handful more exist, but they either seem to not be popular and/or are hard to access). It is an unfortunate reality that we are still fighting for more WLW content, especially GL content where the romance is the main and central plot. So, I don’t have a strong list to give you, because what does exist is limited and often gets canceled, but I will give you what information I do have:

Carmilla 

GAP the Series 

Carmilla 

(Canada- Available on YouTube)

Contains Themes of: student disappearances, death, undeath 

This is an 8 year old Western webseries based on the book of the same name. I watched this around the time it came out and loved it a lot. There are a couple seasons and a movie, all of it is really really good, and was some of the earliest queer representation I had, including having the first non-binary character I had ever seen on screen (does not mean there weren’t others, this is just the first one that I found). This is a webseries so it takes place almost exclusively in one room. 

GAP the Series

(Thai GL- Available on YouTube) 

Contains Themes of: severe homophobia, suicide, emotional abuse, death of a sibling

GAP was fun, it started out really strong, but it did lose me a little bit at the end. But that is mostly because I am not the biggest fan of boss and employee stories where an equal power balance is not established. I think it s a really solid attempt at kickstarting GL into an industry rather than just an occasional one off. This is required viewing in my opinion because of how it was funded, and because it has some of the highest view rates out there for queer Thai shows, and really helped prove that GLs were stories that people really really wanted to see (read: production companies started to realize they could make a lot of money). 

I can offer you a suggestion from other people: 

She Loves to Cook, She Loves to Eat 

(Japanese GL- I have not seen this yet and I am not sure where you can find this show. But I do know that everyone who has seen it loves it, and I plan to watch it soon. A Season 2 was announced recently but is not out yet)

Non GL shows that either have a lesbian or bisexual character and/or have a GL pairing as a side plot: 

Bad Buddy (the second couple, but still has limited screen time)

Secret Crush on You (very minor couple, but has been in a relationship from the beginning)

La Pluie (A very small part of the story)

Lovely Writer (I have not seen this show, I do not know exactly what the plot is, or what purpose this character serves, but I know there is a bisexual character named Tiffy, who won the BL Bisexual Swag 

The Warp Effect (one of the shows with a pretty strong lesbian couple)

Gameboys and Pearl Next Door

A book I really love with a WLW couple in it and a gay character is The Priory of the Orange Tree

GMMTV has started filming their first GL, which we hope will air late this year (or maybe early next year), it’s called 23.5 Degrees and I am very much looking forward to it!

Queer Shows 

I’ll give you some bonus suggestions that are very queer shows, but aren’t defined as BL or GL

The Warp Effect

Gay OK Bangkok

3 Will Be Free

The Owl House 

Deadend Paranormal Park 

The Warp Effect

(Thai- available on YouTube) 

Contains Themes of: abortion, sexual assault, physical assault, internalized homophobia, transphobia, religious trauma, bodyshaming, slut shaming, kink shaming, workplace sexual harassment, homophobia

If it is queer and from Thailand and I love it, odds are extremely high that Jojo Tichakorn wrote and directed it. Despite some very heavy themes this was a very very fun watch, it is one of the most kink positive, sex positive, and queer shows that I have seen. I have a friend who is a sex educator and I want them to watch this show for it’s public speech announcements about getting HPV vaccines and how pelvic exams work. This is not a show I can explain super well, but it is one that I highly recommend, and if you are planning on watching Only Friends, then it is something I consider a required viewing. 

Gay OK Bangkok 

(Thai- available on YouTube)

Contains Themes of: cheating, HIV

This is a very real look at the existence of gay men in Bangkok, I love it so much. This is a pair up between Jojo and Aof, two of my favorite directors. It is not a feel good show, it is an honest one. I think everyone should watch it. 

3 Will Be Free

(Thai- available on YouTube)

Contains Themes of: cheating, manslaughter, murder, murder of a spouse, kidnapping, domestic abuse, sexual assault, strangulation, transphobia, death, gun violence

Once again, a Jojo show, and once again, despite the list of themes within the show, a very fun watch. This is one of, if not the only GMMTV show with a throuple, and is honestly very hilarious by way of three idiots on the run from the mafia, accidentally through mostly shit dumb luck and the fact that everyone is stupid, taking down a criminal empire. 

The Owl House 

(United States- available on Disney+, season 3 available on YouTube) 

Contains Themes of: white supremacy, child abuse, child neglect, heavy trauma, mind and body control, death, possible world destruction

This is an animated show that I love dearly and one I find incredibly important for the next generation of queer people to see. The main character is neurodivergent, she is bisexual and gets a girlfriend, there is a non-binary side character, and there is also just a lot of casual queer representation. This show has a lot to say, and says it well, it is adorable and heartbreaking and everything in between and the fact that it got canceled is honestly a tragedy. 

Dead End: Paranormal Park

(United States- available on Netflix) 

Contains Themes of: possession, murder, death, undeath, paranormal activity, religious infighting, amnesia, animal death, kidnapping, child death, implied transphobia

This is also an animated show that I love dearly and one I find incredibly important for the next generation of queer people to see. The main character is trans, the other main character is neurodivergent and bisexual, there is a lot of casual queer representation. Like The Owl House this show has a lot to say, and says it well, it is adorable and heartbreaking and everything in between and the fact that it got canceled is also a tragedy. 

[I realize for The Owl House and Deadend Paranormal Park that my descriptions are very similar, but I cannot stress enough that these two shows have very different premises and tell very different stories. They are just animated shows that are able to contain a lot more queer representation that the stories that came before them, because of the stories that came before them] 

[forjustice]

Yesterday I saw a sea lion show at the aquarium in my city and the first sea lion to perform messed up the second two of his three big tricks. The rest of the show was amazing, but let me tell you. If Wallace saw that in a public performance, he wouldn't care about the rest--he would just walk out. He doesn't even usually give these types of zoo or aquarium performances the time of day in the first place because they're not usually artistically complex enough for his incredibly high standards. So for him to attend a type of performance that he already has biases against and to see his bias confirmed--well, he won't waste another minute more of his time.

But if you think he doesn't judge more formally artistic performances in the same way, you're wrong. He'll absolutely still walk out of a performance that isn't up to his standards--whether there were errors, or whether he simply finds the overall execution to be anything less than world-class. When he's judging, he's also been known to straight up ignore performances that don't meet his standards; he literally stops watching as soon as you've lost his attention and immediately takes half off your score for everything he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to. He was notorious for even going so far as to be on his phone if a performance lost him this way. He didn't stop until several years ago where he got particularly big backlash for tweeting about Internet drama in the middle of an Appeal that displeased him AT HIS OWN WALLACE CUP.

Nowadays, he isn't quite so blatant about not paying attention anymore. But if you look at him while he's watching something he isn't impressed by you can see him not staring directly at the performer with his eyes glazed over a bit like he's just hit the most boring part of a tedious lecture--and he'll definitely still take half off their score. Really, the only time you can actually get him to show this basic respect to an Appeal with such mistakes in it is if it's one of his students or anyone he considers close to him and he has to attentively watch the whole thing in order to correct them. (And maybe he'll also pay attention too, if your Appeal was so bad that it was like a trainwreck he can't look away from.) Other than that, he knows his attention is fickle, and he doesn't see why he should force it to stay on something whose quality doesn't absolutely grab him by the throat.

(Funny side note: If he ever came to the real world for the first time and saw things like sea lion shows and bird of prey shows, he'd go under the assumption that animals = Pokémon in terms of artistic intelligence and be completely and utterly disappointed and shocked that animals can't do the exact same things in performances that Pokémon can do. He would leave the show in a huff and he'd need to have it explained to him that animals are not in fact as artistically apt as Contest Pokémon and he should hold them to their standards, not his. Even so, it's a cointoss on whether he goes back after that, to be honest. On one hand, he'd accept he was too harsh in his judgment of the animals. But on the other, he bases his entire worldview of performances on an entirely different caliber of them, and he doesn't want to see something that's "the best for their level"--he wants to see what he thinks is the absolute best available.)

[lazyflower48]

i'm going to pass out from all the dopamine today 😭 people in tumblr are literally going to be the end of me (in a good way)

SEIDIE okay first and for most

thanks for contemplating - you prob know who i am lol 😂😁 i'm going to think of asks your lovely followers might want to know abt you and interview you like the 🌺🌺🌟 (star) you are

what's your tumblr origin story? what got you into tumblr?

what got you into digital drawing?

are you aware that you're good in drawing? (tbh i think most artists are lol) - and what keeps you humble/motivated?

is there a particular acc on here whom you're a big fan of? feel free to shamelessly @ them lol.

are you into extreme rides like roller coasters?

would you rather confront someone OR be confronted?

angst or fluff?

what's the best manga or anime you've read/watched?

are you the type to cry over fiction? TT

lazyflower48, what's YOUR favourite flower?

you have three names - An, Lazyflower48, and Lampshade. do you mind giving us a background on these names?

what's one thing you want to improve on?

iirc you're into computer science? (help if this is wrong, its going to be so embarrassing 😭) but anyways. are you more of a math/sciences person OR an arts person? or both?

do you have a pet?

name one thing you're grateful for today

describe your personality in 3 ways

attachment

if you had to pick one - attachment issues or commitment issues?

Name one thing!! you like about your physical appearance (saw this from another post)

Do you have a type? (as in ideal 'crush' or smthing)

Are you more of a listener or a chatterbox?

What's your fave thing to draw?

have you ever done commissions before and if you had, what was the experience like?

how do you deal w anxiety when you have to present or do something?

disclaimer: some of these are really random. I can't stress this enough: [just answer the ones you feel like answering.]

ty 🌹💖

This is about to be fun. (Long post ahead!)

▪︎ Okay so, I downloaded tumblr all the way back in 2018? It was around the Reputation era. Taylor Swift used to be VERY active on here. So 14 year old me thought that I could get noticed by her...and that's how I found out about tumblr. I stopped using it after a few days because I honestly didn't understand it at all. Then comes BSD- I wanted to read 55 minutes and the fan translation was only available on tumblr so that's the reason I downloaded tumblr once again 😭

Eventually I started using it as a space to share my thoughts on BSD and other anime I watched and the rest is history.

▪︎ Earlier this year, in May, I think? I bought a tablet on a whim cause it was on sale for a reasonable price. For quite some time I wanted to draw something BSD related (whenever i find a show/movie i really like, i want to draw it) and I guess you could say that BSD got me into digital art :)

▪︎ Well...honestly, I'm probably my own harshest critique so going off of that, I think I'm decent enough as a beginner but I could definitely be a LOT better. There are so many great artists out there and once I start comparing myself to them I feel like there's so much I can learn in order to be as good as them.

There are so many days where I lack motivation to draw and the drawing ideas keep pouring into my head but I don't feel like drawing 😭. I honestly just let things be until I eventually do get the sudden urge/motivation to draw.

▪︎ (I hope these accounts are okay with being tagged. If not then, i apologise.)

@popopretty is a great acc if you want translations or any BSD related info

@sorcerersandskillusers is probably one of my favourite theory/analysis accounts

@yomeiu and @frenchonionsoop are both AMAZING artists and I'm always in awe whenever they post their art.

@originalartblog has some fun and cool art as well

▪︎ Oh boy, let me tell you. I LOVE extreme rides. I love amusement parks in general. They're like my favourite place to hangout.

▪︎ .....is neither an option? Both would cause me anxiety lol but I guess if I HAD to, then I'd rather confront someone

▪︎ Uhhhh....I love both honestly. But I'm more of a sucker for angst.

▪︎ Though the ending was questionable, AOT still remains one of my favourites and probably one of the best shows I've ever watched. It truly was a 'one of a kind experience' for me. BSD is a close second- even though it has quite some deux ex machina and convenient writing, the character writing remains unmatched. BSD does characterization VERY WELL and that is what I love most about it. It's also my current obsession.

▪︎ Sometimes, yes. I mean, for instance, BEAST had me tearing up and I remember crying over the ending of assassination classroom 😭

▪︎ Ooooh let's see, I've never looked too much into flowers..and there so many pretty ones but I'd have to go with roses, specifically red roses (yes, I'm very basic)

▪︎ An is my own nickname that i came up with. Lazyflower48 was the username assigned to me by reddit and in true lazyflower fashion, I was too lazy to change it and used it as a username on all my accounts. As for Nightshade, Dazai uses belladonna to refer to women which means "beautiful woman" in Italian but it's also another name for a poisonous plant called 'deadly nightshade' (his mind lol) so that is how I got this name.

▪︎ I need to stop procrastinating and stop being lazy. 😭

▪︎ Oooh I like both. Though, I prefer art as a hobby and career wise, I'm more of a science/maths person. The thing is, math can actually be quite fun when you understand it. However, it is truly hell when you don't understand it.

▪︎ YESSS I DO. I HAVE A CAT. (I love talking about my cat) She's the same age as sigma! And she's probably the cutest deadliest devilish little creature

▪︎ My parents. I'm moving away for uni and they've been doing so much for me and I'm honestly so grateful for them.

▪︎ Let's see, in 3 ways, Ambivert - I'm more on the introverted side when you first meet me but as soon as you get to know me more, I never shut up, lol.

Lazy-....yeah I'm probably one of the laziest people you'll ever meet. I still get my work done but I really need to get rid of this trait

Chill- (I'm kinda running out of adjectives here), I'm pretty chill honestly. I mostly just mind my own business and I don't like to get myself involved in drama

▪︎ What I'm attached to? Am I interpreting this right?

I'm attached to my family, MY CAT, home, BSD 🥺

▪︎ Commitment issues

▪︎ My eyebrows, I think they're a nice shape.

▪︎ Currently my type is fictional men 💀

Okay, jokes aside, I have never really given this question much thought so I don't really have any specific type. And I don't currently have a crush on anyone but i guess my ideal would be someone with a good personality. A guy who is understanding, compassionate, kind, good sense of humour, empathetic- just a nice person overall, physically- taller than me but not too tall cause I'm kinda short

▪︎ I can be both depending on the company. Sometimes I talk a LOT and sometimes I prefer to just listen.

▪︎ Dazai, he's just so drawable 😍 Okay yes I do love drawing him but mainly, I like drawing sceneries and nature. I want to draw complex backgrounds with a lot of details. Hopefully one day, I can achieve that level of skill.

▪︎ Nope i have not and I don't know if I ever will.

▪︎ Ooof I get VERY nervous while presentating something. I just tell myself "let's just get this over with. I won't have to worry about this once it's done and then i can go home and do whatever i want (sleep 💀)"

[denizenhardwick]

i haven’t kept up with rw.by for years, but i saw that there’s an anime coming out? so i’m watching the first three episodes and will just be writing my thoughts here.

(spoilers for both the anime and the original series under the cut)

i’m only like 10 minutes in but i really like how they’re incorporating the white trailer into the story, giving it context and actual stakes for weiss, though you probably won’t know what those are until the end unless you’re already familiar with rw.by. idk why it cut to blake and adam for like two minutes in the middle of the fight, though, that was weird.

i like the purple added to blake’s hair, it’s a nice touch.

oh, so they’re laying out some of blake’s backstory in episode one rather than making it a twist.

i like that we’re getting to meet the characters’ families and stuff right away rather than them showing up like four seasons later.

why is roman surprised ruby has a semblance, doesn’t everybody have one? or did they change the lore?

NOT THE NARRATION SAYING “EVEN THE MOST BRILLIANT LIGHTS EVENTUALLY FLICKER AND DIE” WHILE SHOWING PYRRHA ON THE SCREEN FOR THE FIRST TIME 😭😭😭

two questions: is jaune using motion sickness as a way to cover up the fact that he’s been crying, and did weiss just check out pyrrha’s ass?

i’m... not a huge fan of the art style, actually. the faces look weird and go off-model a lot, i don’t like the u-shaped mouths, and the eyes look kind of creepy and lifeless.

YES, the conflict between weiss and blake! i’m so glad they’re letting that happen and leaning into it!

YO, WE GET A COMPLETELY NEW CHARACTER FOR A COMPLETELY NEW PLOT AND I AM HERE FOR IT!

okay, so episode three was hella rushed. everything from scenes seeming to cut off a few seconds early, to them skipping an entire fight, to blake not explaining that she was in the white fang to ruby on-screen, to weiss just deciding she’s not racist anymore with absolutely no build-up. yang called her out on lying about wanting to be a good teammate and stuff, but they didn’t get to actually talk about it on-screen, leaving everything extremely unsatisfying and still unresolved. unless weiss is lying about this, too, to make herself seem better, but the triumphant music does not imply that and there are no more episodes yet so idk.

the way they handle weiss as a whole is really weird because on one hand, they hint that there’s a lot more to her than what’s on the surface and she’s so conflicted that one of the nightmare grimm has latched onto her, but they also treat her emotional issues like a bit of a joke and like she’s being overdramatic.

also, this is only episode three, and weiss and blake haven’t had the chance to really develop a bond yet so this emotional “payoff” between them feels shallow and narratively unearned.

okay, the end of the episode makes some of that better, but not all of it. i’m glad they’re making it clear that that wasn’t resolved so easily, and we will be getting a deeper exploration of it all.

final thoughts? it was good! i haven’t watched rw.by in years, and i really enjoyed watching this! i love how they incorporated the black and white trailers into episode 1 and let you get to know the characters and their lives and backstories a bit before they all met at beacon, especially since those will be important later on. i like the addition of the nightmare grimm, and some of the ways they consolidated the early rw.by episodes to make them more interesting and drag less. the show seems to suffer from pacing issues and wonky writing so far, and ruby and yang are less developed than weiss and blake, with yang being especially egregious. ruby does have a character arc set up for her, but honestly? if i didn’t know she was the main character, i’d probably think weiss is the main character, because she’s received the most focus and setup so far.

basically, the writing is really weird, and i’m not going to get my hopes up that this will be everything i wanted rw.by to be back when it was my hyperfixation or anything, but i really liked it for the most part, it’s enjoyable and i’ll probably keep watching when more episodes come out.

[absolutepokemontrash]

Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?

Masterlist

The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!

Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)

Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.

Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-

MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.

News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are

At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.

Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!

If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.

Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.

If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.

On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.

If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.

No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.

MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.

“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.

“Yep!”

“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”

“Really now? Name one person.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.

“…Cerberus.”

“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”

…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…

“You’re grounded.”

“Worth it.”

*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)

Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-

Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…

Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.

If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.

He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.

Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.

When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.

If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.

This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.

Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.

MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.

“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”

“Five years?”

“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”

Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”

“You mean your pyramid scheme?”

“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”

“It’s a pyramid scheme.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)

Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.

So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.

Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!

Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”

For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!

When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-

Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!

IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!

Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.

The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.

Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.

H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?

Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…

Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!

“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”

“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”

“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”

“Oh… really?”

“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”

The Know it All (Satan)

Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.

Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.

MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.

The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…

Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…

The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.

He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.

It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.

Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.

…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.

He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.

MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…

“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”

MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”

“Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.

“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.

“Yes, why?”

“Satan, put that back.”

“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)

Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~

Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)

He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!

While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.

Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.

If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.

Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.

After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!

The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…

Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.

Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.

“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”

MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.

“MC..?”

“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”

Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”

Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)

Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!

He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.

Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.

But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?

MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.

And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.

Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”

Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.

Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.

Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.

After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.

They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.

“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.

“So I can eat this?”

“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”

“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”

“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”

“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)

MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.

They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.

MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.

He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.

The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.

Other than that? *snore*

If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.

MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.

“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”

“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”

“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”

“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”

MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”

[chibiwritesstuff]

heyya yaaaa~! I just finished reading all of your works and lemme tell you, it’s all so nicely written! keep on going and don’t forget to take breaks when you need it, hm? alright, me stating facts about you and your writing talent aside— may I request lilia, floyd, ruggie and silver? Angst with a happy ending please? You can make it angst due to a misunderstanding or sumn. but oh well of course! that’s only if you don’t mind. Take your time dear, it’s not good to force yourself alright? bye~!

I see you saw the note that even I can’t find anymore that Lilia always gets a free pass on my 3 character limit XD. Thank you so much! I have long ways to be a decent writer but I’m glad you found my works nice. The one with Lilia is actually based on my own experience at work and I was told that’s an anxiety attack so uh... Also, I do kinda have to force myself or I’ll just keep focusing on work and not have time for myself which is writing.

(I swear all characters are treated equally and totally no favoritism... oh who am I kidding? Hail Lilia)

Warning(s): Mentions of an anxiety attack on Lilia’s part.

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

At first, he thought you just need something for Jade which he doesn’t mind. Everybody needs help once in a while.

But lately you two have pretty much stopped seeing each other.

Anytime he asks the trouble trio, they always respond that you’re with Jade.

Excuse me, if you wanted to break up with him just tell it straight to his face?!

He’s honestly hurt though. He thought you two are hitting it off really well.

Once he confronts you about it, you’re in the kitchen of Monstro Lounge.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He looked so confused and enamored of your look with an apron on.

“Ruggie, I love you and everything but I’m in the middle of a shift right now.” You immediately replied as you see Azul tapping his wristwatch.

“You work here?!” He jerked back in surprise. “I thought you are having a tryst with Jade!”

Cue to you and Azul spit taking (away from the food, of course, you ain't unsanitary) while Floyd burst out laughing and Jade chuckling.

Yeah, turns out you’re the current cook in the lounge to save up some money to buy him a gift for your anniversary.

Psh, he knows that. He’s just testing you… yeah.

Feel free to tease him about it since he used to do it to you anyway.

Okay, surely you just need Vil for a question or two, right?

You keep making excuses to get out of his hair lately and he doesn’t like it at all.

Yet whenever Rook calls for you because Vil asked for it, you’re suddenly available.

His mood swings are worse than a pregnant woman’s so you better explain quickly.

“Floyd! I finally found you.” You greeted him three weeks after you two last have an actual conversation.

“Can’t talk right now, I’m busy. Why don’t you go back to Vil?” He snapped at you as he began walking away.

You merely blinked at his reaction and shrugged. “Okay, you gave me the go signal so don’t you go blaming me for it.”

“That wasn’t permission! Get back here and pay attention to me!”  He pouted and shook you violently. “Why do you always pay attention to Vil? I thought I’m your boyfriend?!”

“Well, my sense of fashion is wack so I thought I’d ask an expert.” You struggled to respond as you tried to hand over a box which made him stop shaking you. “Vil hooked me up to get these for you after being ordered around to do things… Happy anniversary… oh god I feel sick…”

“Eh?” He opened the box to reveal the Tenebres brand of shoes that he’s been wanting. “Shrimpy, thank you!!!”

Yeah, have fun trying to hold that nausea in because this eel ain't ready to let go just yet.

As much as Lilia is a great person to hang out with, he can be quite neglectful on certain things because of having too much fun.

You don’t show it that much but you do get anxiety attacks when you get surprised. While not severe it’s still quite a scary moment.

It doesn’t help that you’re carrying something very valuable and very fragile to Vil when he decided to pop out of nowhere upside down.

“What you got there, (y/n)?” He casually asked.

“Ah!”

A loud crash echoed in the hallway and your face pales up as Vil’s delivery is now on the floor, shattered. Just the sight of it is enough to send your thought spiraling as you can vividly picture Vil yelling at you for being careless and useless you can be. You are aware that your brain is exaggerating things but as your anxiety attack gets more prominent, the harder it is for you to breathe and rationalize which only made you panic. Your ears started ringing that you failed to hear Lilia calling out your name multiple times. You must have blacked out for when you regained your sense of focus and hearing, you can see a concerned Lilia hovering above you.

“Oh seven, my apologies little one.” He replaced the wet cloth on your forehead before continuing. “I should have known or at least notice you have anxiety attacks.”

When you’re feeling better, Lilia personally talked to Vil about the situation and offered to replace the said item.

Much to your surprise, Vil got mad at Lilia for causing your anxiety attack and even used his unique magic on the fae’s apron and favorite ladle.

Yep, the old man is currently banned from cooking. (Diasomnia sent Pomefiore their thanks that day.)

Nonetheless, Lilia is now careful about his random appearances and is now more attentive.

The downside is that he permanently has his dad mode on.

This man trusts you a lot.

He knows you won't force him to do things he doesn’t like and respected the fact that his main priority is to service Malleus. The same goes that you trust him that you love him and he won't force you to do things you don’t like.

So, when he saw you spend way more time with Deuce than him especially during his sword practice, he wasn’t pleased.

He’s rather blunt about it too that he just stops you in the hallway around other students.

“Why are you hanging out with Deuce too much?”

“He’s my friend, Silver. Of course, I’ll hang out with him when you’re busy.” You cocked your head sideways out of confusion.

He frowned, still not like the ache he feels in his chest. “Doesn’t mean you have to do it every time.”

“Hey, I don’t stop you from being with Mr. Draconia every time but I get restrictions? What happened to being fair to each other?”

“It's my duty to be around Lord Malleus, you on the other hand waste your time on someone else’s company.” He defended and straightened his posture unconsciously to assert authority. “If you have free time then watch me practice or something.”

“I did that before and I ended up falling asleep on the hard ground so you told me to do something else instead, remember?” You can't help but be hurt by the contradictions he spouting out right now especially since you two have garnered the attention of almost all the students nearby. “Can you take some time to cool down first before we talk about this again? I don’t want any misunderstandings to happen between us.”

“So you can go back to Deuce’s side already?” Anger slowly seeping into his visage but immediately disappeared with your hurt expression.

“Do you trust me so little…” You whispered not intending for him to hear. “You know what, fine. I’ll go to Deuce until you finally get your head straight.”

Let me tell you now, he feels everything just came crashing down. He never intended for it to cause a big rift between the two of you but at the looks of it, you two needed space.

The entire day this man will try to talk to you again but by some unknown force in the universe, there's always something preventing him to do so.

He’s so lost he can't even take a nap even in the comfort of the forest animals.

Deuce smacked him to his sense quite literally. Like, our delinquent boy just punched the living daylights out of this guy.

Deuce has to explain that you two are pretty much siblings when it comes to closeness and you’re always talking about him all the time.

Be prepared to be serenaded tonight, Silver ain't letting you leave him on a bad note.

Well, more like that’s what Lilia taught him to do since he was young.

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

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

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

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

check out the post-script drabble here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

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

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

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

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

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

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

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

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

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who are you to resist?

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

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

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

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

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

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

God. 

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

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

Sighing, you pick up. 

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

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

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

“To do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about food?”

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

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

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

Who else could it be?

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

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

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

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

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

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

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

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

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

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

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

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a knock on your door. 

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

And then, you hear,

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

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

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

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

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

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He dashes down the hallway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

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

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

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

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

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

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about a dress?”

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

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

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

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

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

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

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

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

You are not pre-law.

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

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

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

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

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

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

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tired?”

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

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

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

And then, you spot him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

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

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

“You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

“Why would I?” 

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[tofindloveinpoison]

Iconic Fanfictions ive read two years ago and what I currently remember of them:

I will premise this by saying that these fanfics were famous only in certain specific niches of the internet, and that when i say that a work is badly written or i critique it in anyway it?s just my opinion from what i vaguely remember, whihch might not be correct. 

Fanfics below the cut: filthy lucre, asotm, twist and shout, the hat and lung fics, anatomy of a fall, throam, unholyverse. feelfree to add what you remember of “famous fanfics” you’ve read.

tw for mentions of: sexual assault, violence, animal abuse, pedophilia and some other upsetting topics. 

The Milk Fic

Oh my God this was bad but not nearly as extreme as other fics. An iconic and shocking read i do not recommend, but if you really want to read it it will not ruin your life, your month at most. 

From what i remember at least the sex was consensual aaaaaaand i don’t remember any other good/decent aspects about it. 

Very famous, a lot of ppl have read it, gerard way said it was “well-written” but honestly it wasn’t.

( original? ryden version) 4/10 because of lack of actual crimes.

Filthy Lucre

So bad i don’t remember the plot. They’re prostitutes i think? there definitely was an abusive relationship and the sex scenes were so bad i had to skip all of them, meaning i read the whole thing in half an hour.

Really terrible, they don’t end up toghether and that’s the only interesting element. I recomend no one reads this unless you are literally dying of boredom.

(frerard version) 1/10 because its a completed work, but at what cost

Twist and Shout

This is considered one of the good ones and you know what? for iconic fanfiction standards it’s not bad at all, decently-written with actual characters that don’t feel, like most fanfic characters, like bad ooc versions of the original.

How about the overcomplicated plot tho? I don’t remember a thing except for the homophobia (its set in the 50s-60s), the war, the Elvis songs, one cute sad beach scene and one of the protagonists dying of aids. Maybe they also watch star trek,idk; lots to unpack. 

If you want to suffer and you have lots of free time i recommend it, i skipped most of the sex scenes but there is an actual plot so that was not a problem.

(original Destiel version) 8/10 bc I don’t remember how they handled the aids thing but it made me uncomfortable, might be just bc of the upsetting subject matter but i don’t remember

The Hat Fic

DO NOT READ THIS THING. Go read the milk fic if you want weird but not this one please. A milk enema is NOTHING. Contains animal abuse and i don’t remember how consensual the whole thing was.

I CAN ASSURE YOU THIS MAKES ME WANT TO PUKE TO THIS DAY I FEEL SICK WRITING THIS. There is a whole subset of early phanfiction centered on being as disgusting and upsetting as possible and i think this started it.

I higly doubt anyone got off on this but still the possibility unsettles me.

(original phan version )  -8233983743764346/10 should be illigal to talk about it. We should all agree to Damnatio Memoriae this thing.

A splitting of the Mind

Some people insist on treating this as one of the good iconic fics but it’s bad. 

So bad its actually an interesting read if you feel like analizing some text, trying to see what is so appealing about it, despite its evident flaws.

The age gap is 19-16 so not as bad as the Other Iconic mcr Fanfic About Doves that i did not read bc from what i remember it was basically pedophilia/grooming but i might be wrong. God the bar is so low

Portrayal of mantal illness and trauma was truly a shitshow, the writing was not great but also not horrible. The sexual assault elements upset me greatly but it might be just bc of the subject matter

pros: unreliable narrator done decently, ray toro’s character saw the future looking in cereal, characters are characters and not merely names (not to be confused with actual good characterization), nothing else.

(original frerard version) 5/10 for the effort honestly, but i do not recommend this unless you are mentally ready for some heavy topics handled poorly.

The Lung Fic

This was written with the goal of shocking the reader, in the same vein as all hat fic/ milk fic copycats.

 Should be more upsetting, given it contains gore, pedophilia and a bunch of other disgusting madness (maybe mpreg?), but it just reads as a fanfiction taboo list.

Not worth reading at all, clearly intentionally designed to shock and disgust to the point where it’s obvious.

0/10 i don’te remember which version, irrelevant, don’t waste your time

Anatomy of a fall

Contains ghosts, high school au, possibly resurrection or death, idk.

I don’t remember this being particularly offensive in any way, but its been a long time. Then again i did not read the sex scenes so it might contain necrophilia and i wouldn’t know. (i checked and no necrophilia, just “weird supernatural sex”)

is it well written? no, but it’s not outragiously badly-written. Is it funny sometimes? yes.

 In the context of this list, this might be a good one, in any other context probably not. I might be biased bc i love ghost stories in general and this one does not contain sexual assault if i remember correcly. (The bar is soooo low)

(original? frerard version) 7/10 bc ghosts and funny aND IT HAS ILLUSTRATIONS (vietnamese translation available)

 The Heart Rate of a Mouse

Good but not in the classical meaning of the word. It contains some Hot TakesTM on human sexuality, substance abuse and unhealthy relationship(s).

Its set in the 70s so the homophobia is there and she is thriving. Wonderful internalized homophobia, really 10/10 for that.

The sex and the plot sometimes intersect, putting me in the uncomfortable position of having to  read smut or not knowiong what is going on (0/10 ).

Well written for the genre (=beloved fanfictions that are rarely redeemable); characters are original and flawed, even interesting sometimes.

The plot is three pubblished books worth of plot available for free on the internet and that is a blessing. I suggest reading this as if all the characters are OCs and you found this book forgotten on the train and decided to read it. 

But is it actually good as a story? idk its a lot honestly, if you have to quarantine for 14 days bc of covid and you don’t have anything to study, this will fill at least 4 full days of reading.

(original version)8/10 bc it has everithing but its still not a masterpiece of modern fanfic literature sorry

Unholyverse

Contains Demons, priests, scarfs, exorcisms(affectionate), vergin mary tatoos and much more. Not as carefully written as throam or tas, but it still makes it as one of the good  fanfics solely for the cool factor.

It would be so cool if this was better written and a comicbook or a grafic novel with original characters.( I skipped all the sex scenes bc they made me uncomfy, as usual so idkwhat was going on there)

If there was anything extremely upsetting about this one i forgot about it (i checked: they say “ warnings for religious themes, pain, trauma, blood, torture and death”). There is a lot of plot, its not even just one fic its a whole serie. 

Great for passing the time, I forgot most of it 7/10 for the demons (original version)

[galaxina-the-pyro]

There's NO PnF x Epithet Erased AU and I'm Here to Correct That!

Well, really I just wanna theorize on what everyone's epithets would be and to just have an excuse to talk about the show, because "Epithet Erased" (produced by @jelloapocalypse) is fucking amazing and ya'll need to stop what you're doing and watch it on VRV (also available on YouTube if you can't afford VRV like me - but if you CAN afford VRV, you totally should considering making an account so you can support this AMAAAAAZING project) Go on. Do it.

So - a little info dump for ya'll who aren't in the know...ahem...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h97aI5SZHk4&ab_channel=JelloApocalypseJelloApocalypseVerified

SO! In the world of Epithet Erased, there are those who are gifted with the rare power called, you guessed it, Epithets. Some have them - others don't. The ones who don't are called Mundies, and the ones who do are called Inscribed. Those who are Inscribed each have a unique word attached to their soul that allows them to do "stuff" depending on the given word.

Ex. One of the main characters of the series has the Epithet "Goldbricker", which allows him/her to turn objects into gold, including him/herself.

Inscribed are able to train and hone their powers so that they can gain more abilities in the process - however, depending on the word you get, you may be the most dangerous being in existence, or have the lamest superpower ever. Though, do not be fooled - even the dumbest sounding words can hold their weight in ways you never suspected if you use them right.

Inscribed and Mundies alike are all ranked by three stats: Stamina, Proficiency, and Creativity (arguably the most IMPORTANT stat for Inscribed). These stats dictate one's power and durability within a battle or even for everyday tasks and jobs, like building, or stuff like that.

In the end, Epithets are NOT in any way, shape, or form connected to genetics - Mundie parents can conceive Inscribed children, and Mundie children can have Inscribed parents. All of it is randomized, from whether or not you'll have one, to the word you get in question.

Now with all THAT out of the way, I can go on to ramble about the possible Epithets the REST of the gang has.

NOTE: this isn't me saying EVERYONE listed would be Inscribed if they WERE in Epithet Erased because that's not possible - chances are, someone like Isabella would be a Mundie while that one background character named Baltazar the Ballpit Kid would be Inscribed. This is just for funsies! (Also, because Perry's an animal he doesn't get an Epithet, sorry)

So...without further ado...what I think the cast of PnF's Epithets would be:

Phineas: "Lightbulb" (an Epithet that seems useless on the surface - Phineas is able to cause lightbulbs to appear from thin air upon thinking of an idea. But he's ALSO able to generate electricity and use it in battle, and can use it to charge his machines and anything he builds)

Ferb: "Toolbox" (Ferb is able to pull an assortment of tools and useful gadgets from seemingly nothing, hence him being a literal "toolbox" - these tools vary from things like hammers and saws to actual weaponry. Lord help you if he gets his hands on an ACTUAL toolbox or anything like it)

Candace: "Gatekeeper" (This was a tough one - basically, "gatekeeper" refers to her control-freak personality. Her abilities can be as small as being able to lock or unlock doors from afar/without the use of a key, to being able to create doors and gates to keep people in or out of something or somewhere)

Dr. Doofenshmirtz: "Self-Destruct" (This probably doesn't count because "Self-Destruct" is two words, but DANGIT I'm gonna do it anyway because this is just too perfect for Dr. D! Doof's ability allows him to cause explosions of any kind within the vicinity, including himself. He takes recoil damage from this ability, but it's actually really powerful if used correctly [which luckily, given that he's PROBABLY a Bonzai Blaster in this, his Proficiency is probably too low for him to use it that way, though I'd imagine his creativity is as high as Phineas and Ferb's])

Isabella: "Daydream" (This Epithet allows Isabella to create illusions and false realities with her mind - oftentimes it's to her detriment, as one of her most utilized "fantasies" is Phineasland. However, she can use this ability to trap her enemies and can even summon "imaginary friends" to help her in battle)

Buford: "Wind" (Though the word is simple, Buford is able to control the winds around him - even to the point of creating gusts to blast at enemies. He's also able to fly effortlessly through the air, though for a short period of time [pray that you're not beneath him when he runs out of air]. The catch? His power is through farts and belches...shut up, you all know this makes sense)

Baljeet: "Multiple" (Baljeet's Epithet allows him to project numbers and math problems for all to see - it COULD also allow him to increase in size and to create clones of himself if his Creativity was much higher than it already is. Luckily, he's at the very least able to use these numbers as projectiles)

Vanessa: "Rock" (Which refers to her being the kind of person people can open up to ["Candace Against the Universe"], her tough, firm personality, as well as the kind of music she listens to. With this Epithet, she is able to turn parts of her body into pure stone [much like "Goldbricker"], making her nearly invincible)

Major Monogram: "Screen" (Is able to appear on any screen without the need of a camera - he can also take control of any device with a screen so long as he is inhabiting it...which...kinda puts Carl out of the job, so...uh...let's fix that!)

Carl: "Intern" (Yeah. His Epithet is Intern. Because that's what he is. His ability is a wildcard, as it allows him to work in any environment with high proficiency, but depending on the location he's in he's either a force to be reckoned with or is completely useless in battle. Ex. in an office setting, he's just really good with numbers and writing checks and stapling papers, etc., but in a hospital setting he can have the ability to heal you in battle)

And that's all I really got so far. I might add more in the future. If you guys think their Epithets would be different, I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts!

"Epithet Erased" is fun, creative and such a joy to watch, it'd be a crime for this project to not be completed from a lack of viewing. It's got poignant humor, a cast of quotable, likable characters I guarantee will make you all smile, FANTASTIC MUSIC LIKE OMG IT'S SO GOOD YOU GUYS, an engaging storyline, and is just a charming DnD-esque adventure throughout. And that's just seven episodes - that's right. Season 1 of Epithet Erased has seven beautifully made episodes that you can watch on YouTube/VRV now right on your computer or phone or whatever!

Seriously, I do not kid you, this series has the potential to be as good if not better than shows like "Avatar: the Last Airbender", it's that brilliant. And again, IT ONLY HAS SEVEN EPISODES SO FAIR! It'll only take you, like, three hours to watch them all at most! So really, you don't have an excuse NOT to watch this wonderfully made series! I implore you to give it a look - you will not regret it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMesNJy06kM&ab_channel=ChimericalNightcoreChimericalNightcore

[due-processs]

me & rwby

So, you’ve stumbled across my blog. You might be asking yourself why this blog exists and what I’m doing here. This post is meant to give some answers, and a bit of my history with rwby and its fandom. (scroll to the bottom for a tl;dr)

I first started watching Rooster Teeth and the various channels within it when I was probably too young to be doing so. But, being the middle schooler I was, I thought the gaming stuff was cool and I liked Red vs Blue. 

Inevitably, I ended up watching RWBY, which was nearing the end of its second volume (around late 2014). I would say that I was hooked immediately, but that’s not true. Even back then I had a hard time getting past the... interesting animation and voice acting. It took me two tries, but I did end up getting extremely invested in RWBY. I binged what was available, and once they were released, I asked for the dvds for Christmas. I even got a few of my irl friends into the show.

RWBY ended up becoming my first fandom. I had a now long-gone tumblr blog and a slew of various characters I shipped and even wrote a little fic for (never published, though). I wasn’t really invested in the adult characters or what they had going on, I just wanted to get back to the prom, y’know? 

Then volume three came out, and it was really good! I enjoyed it a lot. It felt like RWBY could only get better from there! And then it just... didn’t? I will say I actually did enjoy volume four at the time, but not as I liked volume three. I still think it has some good moments, but it didn’t follow with the quality three had left us with. 

When volume five was premiering in early 2017, though, my interest gradually started to decline. I was still watching RWBY and RT stuff, but it wasn’t holding my interest like it used to. By the time six was coming out, I had also become disillusioned with RT as a company after a series of scandals (think the crunch stuff, sketchy advertisements, etc). I slowly woke up from that parasocial nightmare over the course of a few months and stopped watching most of their stuff. I still held on to RWBY for volume six, but I would miss episodes and have to watch a bunch to catch up. 

Once volume six was done, I didn’t continue watching RWBY. Honestly, if you had asked me then what volume six was about, I could not have told you.

But, due-processs, you may ask, how the fuck did you then end up creating an Ironwood blog literally years later, especially when you did not care at all about him the first time around? That’s a really good question. a few things happened in my time away from RWBY.  

1) I grew up. I’m able to actually think critically about the media i consume now, lmao. Whether that means actually being critical, or just analyzing things on a deeper level. 

2) i developed a very specific type when it comes to the characters i like and get low-key obsessed with. That type is as follows: kind of a hard-ass, stern, but also obviously with a heart of gold/soft side. Bonus points if they have awkward parental energy or just are kind of awkward in general. More bonus points if there’s an element of them being morally gray. So you can see where this is going.......... 

I don’t remember how I become curious as to what was going on in RWBY these days, honestly. I checked in on RT as a whole when the Ryan Haywood is a sexual predator situation came to light, but it wasn’t then. Maybe I just thought of it randomly, or perhaps I saw hbomberguy’s RWBY video in my recommended. Either way, I decided to check up on the fandom. And I quickly learned that it had split itself between critics/RWDE/HTDM and anti-critics. Always the sign of a healthy fandom to be sure lol. 

I read through a lot of different posts and started to get far more interested in the RWDE side of things. RWDE posts tended to be a bit more deep (at least, in my opinion). Like, rwde posters and critics tend to really think about and analyze the show, and that’s what interests me. Thinking about where RWBY went wrong and what it could have been is extremely interesting. Generally, though not always, I agree with what a lot of rwde posters have to say (from what I know of the show).

One of the big complaints I saw was that Ironwood was really interesting and good in volume seven, but they ended up making him a mustache-twirling villain in volume eight and trashing his character. I remember thinking that I hadn’t really cared about Ironwood my first go-around, but I wanted to see what the fuss was about. So, I found clips of him in volume seven. 

I was blown away by a few things. First, his model was vastly improved compared to volumes 4/5. His face looks nice in V4/5, but his torso is so bad in that. But in the later volumes? Not only is that fixed, but they gave him a really nice beard and outfit. Not to mention he’s so tall and quite large. He’s like... easily the sexiest male character - to me, at least. Second, and more importantly, his characterization in volume seven was directly on the nose for that type I mentioned earlier. He’s a hard-assed military leader, but he is also extremely soft. I also began to revisit and appreciate his scenes from V1-6 a lot more. This fictional cartoon man really is the perfect storm to gain my interest. 

And then, of course, I turned to watch the volume eight clips with dismay. It was just as everyone had said. Not only had his character done practically a complete 180, but they ended up villainizing him in the most shitty, ableist ways they possibly could have managed. 

(I will say, I think if they’d gone for just Antagonist Ironwood, that would have been good. He doesn’t have to be right all the time or perfect for me to like him. In fact, I really like the angle of him being morally gray but still trying his best ultimately. They could have done literally anything other than “Ironwood is 100% evil now for shitty reasons” and I would’ve been fine with that. A little annoyed, perhaps, but fine.)  

So, I started dwelling on this character quite a bit, as I’m prone to with characters like him. I’ve decided that I think it would be fun to actually interact with other Ironwood fans and maybe do some fanworks. I also have the occasional rwde thought I’d like to toss in there, too. I will say I’m going to try to avoid the fandom at large. Interacting there just does not sound fun lmao. 

And there it is. My history with RWBY and what this blog is for. I don’t know why I decided to write a long ass post, but there it is. Honestly, it’s more for me to get my thoughts out than for anyone to actually read. But thanks if you did read!!

TL;DR

I watched RWBY from about 2014 to 2017/18 (volume six). Initially, I didn’t care about the adult characters at all. I stopped watching RWBY and RT stuff as I became disillusioned with the company after some scandals (e.g. the crunch stuff) and as my tastes/interests changed. From 2018 to now, I developed a love of hard-ass characters that are also secretly soft. I got curious about RWBY again recently and learned about James Ironwood’s arc throughout V7. Not only does he perfectly fit the type of character I really like, but he’s also super hot. V8 ruined him in shitty ways, but I still like who he was in V2-7 and what he could have been. This blog is to interact with other Ironwood fans and maybe do some fanworks and rwde discussions. Thanks for reading!

[theimmaterialplace]

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 3: just the way you are

Chapter Summary: Spencer’s day after.

Contains: mentions of death.

Word Count: 2k

Comments: haha, uni is kicking my ass! sorry for the three weeks it took to post this, this chapter would just not write itself :( also i literally have future chapters finished but i need to get the in between chapters done before that so sorry! a lot may not have happened but spencer is seeing something here. he hasn't been able to come to a conclusion quite yet but he will soon... but will it be before the reader spills? also yeah, this story is filled with headcanons because i can't help myself! :D

i love jj but she gives off overbearing vibes and rn spencer needs some space from everyone that reminds him of emily/will only want to talk about his feelings. little does he know for that first part...

the next chapter is the funeral and after party!!! hope you enjoyed the chapter! lemme know what you think!

masterlist | read on ao3

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far, mmm

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

- Billy Joel, Just The Way You Are

When Spencer enters the room, it reveals relieved coworkers. JJ is the first one to approach him, eyes red and worry evident on her face. She pulls him into a hug as soon as she reaches him.

“Spencer, we were so worried when you left last night,” her whisper might as well be a scolding in his ears but he’ll take it because he never meant to worry his team, not like this. She pulls away and cradles his face gently in her hands.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad it would seem to everyone. I… I didn’t want to make anyone worry after everything else.” He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the emotions that will only bring him to his knees.

Derek speaks up then and it’s like he knows. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, kid.” Looking at him, Spencer can tell he hasn’t slept and has cried the whole night through. If he had stayed with them, he likely would look the same. As it is, he barely got a few hours asleep, as haunted as his dreams were.

“Me too.”

His team is in shambles. It’s not just that Emily has gone away and left them, left him, like Gideon or Elle. No, she’s never coming back because she is dead, just like every other cadaver they’ve encountered in their line of work. Statistically speaking, death in their line of work was highly likely and it’s a miracle he’s managed to avoid it for so long.

Perhaps it’s because Emily has always been impressive but he’d never thought she’d be the one to die. If anything, he’d bet himself before anyone else on his team.

His team is talking to one another and Spencer can’t hear anything they’re saying. All their words are blurring into unintelligible words and the only thing he can see are their faces.

Rossi is a slab of stone being chipped at little by little into something unrecognizable. Hotch’s eyes are red and his face is pale and an ever looming cloud of guilt surrounds him. He wonders why; it wasn’t his fault she died. Morgan is much the same but there is an anger in him that he hasn’t seen before.

Morgan’s anger simmers underneath his skin; he’s frustrated that he wasn’t fast enough to save her or to catch Doyle. His sadness has become eclipsed for now but he knows it’s there, buried under the guilt and rage he feels. Perhaps it’s because Garcia takes on the brunt of it, the grief is written all over her face. She’s always worn her emotions on her sleeve and this hasn’t changed. He chooses not to look at her because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep it together. Someone so vulnerable makes him want to do the same and he feels vulnerable enough as it is.

JJ is like Hotch, guilt and grief clouds her. She keeps sweeping her hair back and chewing on her cheek, a habit when she doesn’t want to focus on what’s plaguing her.

Their tells are obvious to him and he’s memorized all of them, every little action they’ve done is cataloged in his brain and this is no different. He had already known what they’d be like and what they’d do when he saw them.

He hears Ambassador Prentiss’ voice stutter when she asks why Hotch has called and he wonders if she already knows and wants to hear it before she comes down so she can grieve on her own time. He stays quiet and that’s as good as confirmation for her because her breath hitches and she says she’ll be down in an hour.

Emily never spoke much of her mother but she takes- took after her greatly. They share the same face and hair color. It’s like her mother had asexually produced because he sees no difference between the two; there was no bit of her father in Emily. The only difference between the two are the crow’s feet and smile lines on her mother’s face and he realizes that Emily will grow to her mother’s age because she died too young.

Hotch delivers the news, as expected of his status of Unit Chief, and Ambassador Prentiss is stoic and nods at the news of her only child’s death. She asks for details and Hotch is only able to give her the bare minimum and she only nods and thanks him and the rest of them. She goes up to Morgan and takes his hands into her own and whispers something only for his ears. He stiffens but nods and she goes away with the request that they inform her of their decision of when the funeral is and that she’ll pay for everything.

It’s a bit cold the way she all but announces how she doesn’t want to be included in the planning of her daughter’s funeral but Emily always had described her as cold and distant, loving only in private and when convenient.

The planning process takes up the rest of the afternoon and it passes him by quickly and he knows it’s mostly because he disassociated through most of it. JJ and Hotch shot him with worried glances all day and he just wants to go back to your apartment. He doesn’t want to go to his apartment just yet, not when he'll have to come face to face with the reminders of her in his own apartment.

The funeral is booked three days away and he shoots you a text and you respond a minute later with a simple thumbs up.

He tells the team he’ll be heading out and unsurprisingly JJ speaks up over this.

“Are you sure you want to go back home? I can give you a ride or you can come over. I don’t want you to be alone, Spencer.” Her voice is meant to be soothing in that maternal way she’s learned but it grates at his nerves. He doesn’t need to be babied. He knows she’s just worried about him but Emily’s death has left him exposed in a way that throws him off his rhythm.

“Thanks JJ, but a friend is picking me up. I’ll be staying with her tonight.” The team exchanges looks in a way that is meant to be subtle but Spencer has always had an eye for details so he doesn’t miss it but he doesn’t call it out.

“Oh well, okay, if you’re sure…?” He nods and she acquiesces but says she’ll walk him out. She waits with him outside while he waits for you. You pull up in your car with his favorite Billy Joel song on and he can’t help the tiny grin that spreads on his face.

You look tired but happy to see him and he knows that JJ probably wants to examine you but he really just wants to get out of here and cuts her off before she can say anything and says goodbye to her while getting into your car.

He can smell the aroma of Italian in the backseat and he knows you went to the little restaurant he frequents after a bad case because the food reminds him of when his mother used to order takeout because much like himself, she was a disaster in the kitchen. It made him happy that you remembered.

Billy Joel’s velvet voice is enough to fill the silence. He watches you as you drive, noticing how you tap your fingertips to the beat of the song on the steering wheel and how it’s obvious now that you’re distracting yourself from something. He hadn’t been able to see it before because he was too lost in his own grief but there was something off about your demeanor.

When you finally arrive back at your apartment, he finds it to be cleaner than it was in the morning and set for maximum comfort. Your couch is covered with soft, thick blankets with animals on them, cobijas, you had called them. He’s fairly certain that just means blanket in Spanish. The table that is usually in the middle of your living room is pushed closer to the couch and it’s where you set the food at so he assumes it’s where the two of you will be eating.

Your record player is playing jazz music. A compromise, you had told him one evening, appealing to his classical music needs with it’s long instrumentals and your love of their crooning and smooth voices.

“Hey, Spence, what do we feel like drinking tonight?” Your voice jolts him out of his observations and he looks towards you where you’re peering at the available drinks in your fridge, two ice-filled glasses set on the counter beside you.

“Arnold Palmer?” You hum and grab two pitchers from your fridge and set it out on the counter and he watches as you mix the two together so it’s not separated. You set the two pitchers back into the fridge and bring the two drinks to where he’s sitting, handing him one and placing the other on your coaster.

He watches as you take out the food from the bags and put his own container in front of him along with two pieces of garlic bread and his own fork and napkin.

Once you’re all done, you take a drink from your glass and open your container and take a bite of your usual order. He follows quickly after, knowing from experience how rapidly the food can get cold.

Time passes by and eventually the food gets finished and you’re both left alone with Billie Holiday’s voice filling the silence.

You’re nibbling on the last piece of garlic bread, your eyes focused idly on your bookshelf but more specifically on a collection of Emily Dickinson poems. He files away the fact that he’s seen this specific book somewhere and decides to ask at another time.

Once you finish, you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his midsection. He shifts so that you’re in a more comfortable position that lets you rest against him while he’s able to hold onto you as well.

Spencer can’t help but think that you always know what he needs without him needing to say anything. It’s something he hasn’t had since Elle or more accurately, Emily. It’s not even been a month and already, he craves her affection. He misses the impromptu Russian talks and the book sharing and her calming presence. You remind him so much of her. It’s like you've taken on some of her mannerisms. Perhaps it’s projection but he’s noticed for months now how you’ve changed bit by bit into someone similar to Emily.

You must have seen his tell because you look up at him, hand finding his own and squeezing it gently before bringing it to your wrist.

It’s the little things you do that bring him back to reality, no matter how painful it is. He’s not sure where he’d be right now. Most likely with JJ and her family, all the while feeling like a burden. With you, he feels vulnerable in a way he doesn’t mind. He’s known you for years and not once, have you ever made him feel small. It’s always been easy with you and he hopes the same can be said for you about him.

“Stop thinking right now, Spencer. We can do that later, like tomorrow. You need a break right now. I know it’s hard for your big brain to shut down so just focus on my pulse and match your breathing to mine.” Your voice is slightly muffled by his sweater and he can only nod and follow your instructions.

“Thank you.” He says after a while.

“ Always, Spencer.” And like always, you understand.

The words are never said but he’s sure you know it and he knows you feel the same.

[f0rever15elf]

They Were Roommates: Part 3 - The Dog

Part 3 of They Were Roommates:  Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 (Coming soon) Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x f!reader Rating: NC-17 Word count: 5,524 Warnings: Smut (again, not sorry), oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, dry humping, teasing, soft!pero, blood mention, food mention, swearing, no beta

Summary: Pero wants a dog, and this leads to several big decisions. 

A/N: @whiskeyslasso once again coming in clutch with the inspo! Also, this chapter puts this whole story at just over 21,000 words in three chapters. I am astounded. 

Masterlist |  Ao3

You have no idea how you had let Pero convince you to go to the shelter, you really don’t. Yet, here the two of your are, hand in hand, waiting for your turn to play with the dogs who were up for adoption.

“Pero,” you sigh, looking up at him.

“Mmm.”

“We really don’t have room for a dog right now. The apartment is too small, and a dog deserves a yard to be able to run around and play in. I’d feel so bad keeping it inside all day.” A pout pulls at the corner of your lips as Pero pulls you closer to his side, a heat flushes your cheeks. This still not something that you’re use to. When the staff member waves the two of you back, Pero all but yanks you forward as he nearly sprints into the back. You can’t remember a time ever seeing him more excited.

“We have dogs of all ages available for adoption today, mainly mutts where we have only been able to guess at pedigree.” The poor girl leading you around is nearly drowned out by the overwhelming amount of barking.

“That does not matter,” Pero speaks up quickly, and you smile.

“Fantastic. I can’t tell you how many people we had come in looking for pure breeds.” She shakes her head, opening the gate to the play pin. You can’t help the sound that comes from you, somewhere between a coo and a whine as you collapse to the ground to be attacked by the dogs. You love the furry beasts, you really do, but you just…don’t know about having one right now. Pero kneels beside you, petting the animals as they venture towards you both, the frown lines on his face lessening ever so slightly. You take pause when you hear a sonorous boof! looking up just in time to be waylaid by an absolutely massive dog, the furry beast sending you sprawling flat on your back as it attacks your face with excited licks. Pero is terrified for a moment that you’ve been hurt until he hears your laughter as you try to sit back up. He helps to ease the dog off of you, distracting it as he showers it in attention and scritches.

“This dog is magnificent,” he grumbles, scratching behind her ears and you nod before grabbing his sleeve to wipe off your face. The look of disgust and disbelief has you near bursting at the seams when you look back up at him. “That was disgusting, bella.” You grin at him before moving to pet the dog yourself. Overwhelmed with the attention, she flops against Pero nearly knocking him down to show her belly which you happily rub.

“Ah, yes, this one is a really sweet. She doesn’t have a name yet, came to us earlier today, actually. An anonymous drop on our front patio, kennel and everything. We think it was a case of she got bigger than the owner was expecting.” The staff member hovers over your shoulder, smiling. “She’s mostly Newfoundland, not sure if she’s a pure breed though. Clocks in about about 120 pounds, the heavier end of Newfie females.”

“She is perfect.” Hearing his comment, you open your mouth to protest as you look over to Pero, but the look in his eyes has you melting on the spot. “Isn’t she, hermosa? Strong and beautiful. Like you.” Heat rushes to your cheeks as the shelter staff member bubbles about how adorable the two of you are. “Please, hermosa?” Your will falters under the gaze of your new boyfriend, but it’s when you look at the dog that you truly cave. The pup is staring up at you with eyes that match Pero’s, such a soft brown. She looks so happy as he lavishes her with attention, her tail wagging non-stop.

“O…Okay, Pero…we can take her home.” He reaches out for your hand, giving it a squeeze before refocusing his attention on the dog. The staffer hands you the adoption paperwork for you to begin filling out.

Where the hell were you going to be able to keep this massive creature?

~~~

“This might have been a mistake,” you sigh, dropping your face into your hand as the new companion wanders around the small house, taking in the smells. “It’s like we adopted a small horse…”

“Hermosa,” Pero comes up to you after having set out the food and water at the end of the kitchen for the furry behemoth prowling your home. “We must name her, eh? Something fitting of a beauty like her.” His hands make their way around your waist, pulling you to him as you bring your hands to rest on his chest. The skin between his eyebrows creases in serious thought. “Perhaps Esmeralda?”

“You mean like from the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

“From what?” He asked, starring down at you puzzled.

“What do you mean ‘From what?’ Have you never seen that movie?” He shakes his head and you gasp, feigning offense. “That cannot be allowed. We’ll watch it with dinner one of these nights.” He just nods, clearly still confused. “As for the name…I like it, so long as I can call her Essy.”

“No, her name is Esmeralda, not Essy.”

“But Essy sounds so cute!” He grumbles for a moment about how it diminishes the name until you get tired of it, reaching up to pull his lips to your own, silencing the grump. His grip around your waist pulls you a bit more tightly to him causing you to smile into the kiss. When you pull away, you reach up and tap his nose, giggling at the way his face scrunches in mild distaste when you do.

“Fine…you can call her Essy,” he grumbles, resting his forehead against yours.

“Gracias, gruñón.” His hand moves to smack your ass lightly and you squeak, pressing up against him as a low chuckle reverberates in his chest.

“You could call me so many other things, yet still it is gruñón you choose.”

“What, should I call you mí novio? Guapo?” You get up on your tip toes as you pull his head down so his ear is level with your lips, whispering. “Papí?” You swear you hear the wire snap holding Pero’s self control together as he hoists you over his shoulder, heading to the bedroom with a sharp smack on your backside again. You squeal at the smack, face flushed hot. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing you on the bed before crawling over you, crashing his lips against yours in a needy kiss as his arms cage you underneath him. Your arms wrap around his neck, grabbing fist-fulls of his soft hair in just the way he likes. Every time Pero kisses you, you find yourself getting lost in all of it. The taste of him, the feel of his lips, the sound of his sighs and grunts as he grinds against you…it always borders on too much in the most pleasurable of ways.

Surprising him, you shift your weight to knock one of his arms out from underneath him, wrapping your leg around his hip to use your weight to roll the both of you over. You sit there straddling his hips, smirking down at him. The surprise on his face lasts only the briefest of moments before his eyes darken, hands landing firmly on your hips to drag you against his crotch. You let out a soft, needy moan, leaning down to kiss him…until you hear a whimper from outside the door and you freeze. Your eyes lock with Pero’s for a moment, and you consider just leaving the dog out there and continuing your fun until you remember that you’re a renter, and you have absolutely no desire to have the dog damage anything.

“Sorry, Pero. We may need to wait until the baby is asleep.” You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before removing his hands and hopping off of him. Pero grumbles something too fast, too low, and too in Spanish for you to catch, probably something about being cock blocked by a dog, before he gets up to follow you. Slowly opening the door, you’re very nearly mowed over again by a very excited, very large dog. Your downstairs neighbors were going to hate you…

~~~

It had only been a week since the newest addition to your household had joined you, but in that week you could already tell she had Pero wrapped around her paws.

“No giant dogs on the couch,” you said, only to come home literally that same night from a late shift to see your man and his dog cuddling on the couch.

“No, she can’t sleep in the bed Pero,” you had told him as he borderline pouted at you. Well, as close to pouting as you have ever seen the man with the permanent scowl get. When you stepped out of the shower a bit sooner than he had expected, you saw Pero shoo the dog from the bed as he attempted to play innocent.

But for all of the rule breaking and spoiling, Pero takes very good care of the dog. The first thing he does when he gets home after kissing you is take the dog for a walk while you cook, and it shocks you a bit just how easy it is for you to settle in to this routine. Less than four months with your grumpy Spanish man, and you are already finding it difficult to not call yourselves a family.

Pero is out on one of those walks with Esmeralda at this very moment as you slice up onions for the stir fry. Your mind wanders a bit too far from the task at hand, lost in thought about what the future could hold for you both, until you hiss as the blade catches your thumb, the knife in your hand clattering to the ground.

“Shit! Fuck!” you scream, clenching your teeth as you run to the sink, trying to avoid getting blood absolutely everywhere from the deep gash in your thumb. Your ears ring at the sight of the blood running down the drain as you try to remember to breathe. You had never been able to stand the sight of blood, especially not your own. The sound of the front door and large paws on the wood floors is a welcome relief as your knuckles turn white from the harsh grip on the sink.

“Hermosa, we’re back,” Pero calls from the front door as he removes his shoes.

“P-Pero…” you groan, hardly audible over the sound of the running water in the sink. The shaking in your knees finally becomes too much and you hit the ground, the world spinning around you as your ears ring. Pero calls your name and you’re vaguely aware of his footsteps as he runs to the kitchen. A string of profanity slips from his lips as he grabs a towel, wrapping it around your hand as he cradles your body against his. “B-blood,” you try to explain, praying the contents of your stomach decide to stay where they should.

“Shhhh, cariño, I’m here. It’s alright, it is just a small cut. I will take care of it, and of you.” Once your breathing has evened out, Pero stands, helping you up as you cradle your hand to your chest. Your thumb was starting to throb and you bite back tears because of it. He ushers you to the bathroom, scowl firmly in place. To anyone else, he would appear irritated at you, but you could see the concern that was present in his gaze. He sits you on the toilet seat before rummaging in the medicine cabinet for the alcohol and bandages. “Don’t look.” Calloused fingers gently turn your head away before he takes off the towel, quickly pouring a bit of alcohol on the wound. You whimper and try to pull your hand away out of reflex as it stings, but his strong grip around your wrist keeps you firmly in place as he blows on the cut, the cool air soothing a bit of the sting. Once it’s dry, he wraps a bandage around it, making sure the cut is pressed firmly together. He brings your bandaged hand to his lips, kissing it gently before kissing each of your knuckles, gazing back up at you. Tears shine in your eyes partially from the throbbing of your thumb, and partially from the embarrassment of what just happened.

“Are you alright, belleza?” The concern lacing his voice causes you to sniffle as you try desperately to fight back the tears, nodding.

“I was daydreaming and the knife slipped… I really hate blood Pero.” Your bottom lip trembles and he brings his hand to gently cup your cheek. Leaning into the touch, your eyes slip closed for a moment, the pad of his thumb running along your cheekbone to soothe you. When you open your eyes again, he is watching you with that same intense stare, like he’s working to memorize every single line of your face. As if at any moment you would slip away from him.

“I will clean the kitchen and finish dinner. You rest with the dog in the living room, alright?” All you can do is nod, the tenderness in his gruff voice so soothing you just want to melt into it. The corner of his lip quirks in a small smile before he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. He helps you to your feet, holding you steady as you slowly make your way to the living room. Essy is already on the couch, and she lets out a whine as Pero helps you over, easing you down. You immediately cuddle up to the fluffy beast, nuzzling your face into her fur. Ok…yeah, the puppy can be on the couch, you decide. Pero pets your hair gently, whispering comforting words of affection before heading to the kitchen.

When the stir fry is done, Pero brings a small serving to you, taking his place on the very little remaining space left on the couch. You pull your feet up to offer him more room, but he just grunts, moving your legs so they rest in his lap. “Eat, hermosa. You’ll feel better.” He was right, you know he was, so with a sigh you sit up, grabbing the plate.

“It smells good, Pero. Thank you for finishing everything.” He nods, grabbing the remote to flip on the TV, not making a big deal out of anything.

“What was this movie you demanded I watch when we named Esmeralda?” His eyes flick to you then back to the TV.

“Oh, right! It’s called The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Here.” You hold out your hand for the remote and he obliges, grabbing his fork to begin scarfing down his food. You are convinced this man would never be able to eat normally. “It’s one of my favorites,” you mumble as you flip through the movies you have, settling into the sofa when you find it. The sound of the opening music always made you smile, and this time is no different. Pero sits quietly after scarfing down his food, a hand resting on your shin to rub soothing circles absentmindedly with his thumb.

As the credits roll, you look up to him expectantly. The grumpy scowl is still on his face as he turns to look at you. “Well?” you ask, curious to know what he thinks.

“The music is good. I see why you like this film.” He reaches to take your bandaged hand, leaning over to kiss it again, succeeding in making your heart flutter. “Bella, where did your mind wander to for you to hurt yourself like this?” His voice is still gruff, but softer now, concerned. “You are always so careful in the kitchen. What happened?”

You swallow thickly then clear your throat, trying to focus on the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you had been together for so short of a time, would this scare him off? Shaking your head, you decide to bite the proverbial bullet. “I was thinking about us,” you whisper, your gaze falling on your connected hands. When he says nothing, you continue. “I was thinking about moving. The dog needs a yard, a bigger home to play in. Pero, she’s over 100 pounds…we can’t keep her if we are going to stay here, my landlord will kill me. That is, if my downstairs neighbors don’t first.” You look up, the worry plain as day on your face. As always, his face is grumpy and unreadable. His thumb has stilled on your hand, causing your chest to tighten with anxiety. The silence in the living room is stifling, you just need him to say something, anything. Even if it is a no, that’s better than this insufferable silence.

“You want to find…a home together?” His voice is soft, layered with surprise and a look up to his face kicks your heart into a sprint. You’re sure he can hear it with how loud the beat sounds in your own ears. His face has softened as he watches you, the lines smoothing in the way you usually only see when he sleeps.

“I know we haven’t been together long, and that this is a big step, and that it’s asking a lot, and that you may not be ready, and-” Your ramblings are cut off by Pero pressing a sweet yet firm kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, the corner of his lips pulls up is a small smile.

“Belleza…hermosa…la luz de mí vida. Cálmate. I think you are right.” His thumb resumes its gentle circles against the back of your hand as your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Y-you mean it?”

“Of course. Esmeralda needs a yard, as you say. And I think it will be good for us to have a home together. I want a home with you.” He squeezes your hand again, his face drawn and serious. For a moment, you don’t move, processing what he has said. When all the gears finally click into place, you scramble to shift around throwing your arms around his neck with a borderline reckless abandon, hiding your face against his neck. His hands rest in the small of your back, holding you against him. You try to find the words to tell him just how you feel, but they fail you, so you elect to just hold yourself closer to him, breathing him in in the silence. You feel him rest his head against yours as he heaves out a content sounding sigh, leaning back against the arm of the sofa as he holds you to his chest. You would be happy to stay like this forever.

Pero’s hands trace lines up and down your back before fiddling with the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding up underneath it to drag his fingers across your skin. You shiver against him at the touch, pressing a gentle kiss above his pulse point. You feel the vibration of the growl in his chest more than you hear it, and it draws a smile to your lips. Leaning back, you brush his bangs from his forehead, excitement coursing through you at the sight of his eyes darkened with need, eye as intense as ever.

“You know,” you purr, resting your hand on his jaw, the stubble tickling your palm. “The furry one is asleep so,” you lean forward, nibbling at his ear, “we can go pick up where we left off earlier.” The words barely have time to leave your lips before Pero is standing, your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. Your giggle in his ear sends a shiver down his spine. God how he loves that sound.

Rather than tossing you on the bed like he normally does, this time he takes a seat, your legs still around his waist. He brings a hand to your cheek, guiding your lips to his in a desperate, tender kiss. You bring your hands to cradle his face gently, eyes closed as you drink him in, lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, moving in time with yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You rock your hips ever so slightly against him, swallowing the soft moans the action pulls from him before leaning back, looking up at him with the softest gaze you can manage. His hands rest on your hips, gently massaging them as he lets you set the pace, not wanting to rush you tonight. “You know,” you whisper as soft as you can manage, not wanting to shatter this moment with words far too loud. “If someone had told me that this would be my life four months ago, I would have laughed at them.” Pero smirks and nods, pulling your hips more firmly against his own, earning him a satisfied hum.

“Had you not shown up that morning, I was going to leave this city.”

“Then thank God I happened to bump into you. Literally.” The coy smile on your face paired with the sultry slur of your voice fans the flame of desire inside Pero, and his hips buck against your, earning a delicious gasp from your lips as it pulls a low groan from his throat. Your hands brace on his shoulders as you rock yourself against him, whimpering with need. “L-lay back,” you nearly moan and he does as instructed, staring up at you with those dark eyes you adore so much. The way he watches you every time makes you feel like the most beautiful woman on the earth and sends your confidence soaring without fail. “I want to make you feel good tonight.”

“Hermosa, you always make me feel good,” Pero mumbles, watching as you tug your shirt off over your head, eyes falling immediately on you chest. Your skin flushes hot as you smirk, running your hands up his stomach to his chest, leaning in to kiss him quickly. His mouth follows yours as you lean back again, hands traveling down to his pants to quickly undo the button on his jeans that are rapidly becoming too tight for his liking. You swing your legs off of him, tugging his pants down right along with his boxers, discarding them on the floor.

“Scoot up on to the bed.” The borderline commanding sound in your voice causes Pero’s cock to twitch, bringing a smirk to your lips as he does as instructed. Tugging off your own pants and panties rather gracelessly, Pero makes use of the moment to rid himself of his own shirt before you’re crawling back over him like some tigress stalking her prey. He has never seen such a confident hunger in your eyes before and he can’t even begin to describe the way that look is affecting him. You crash your lips against his, wasting no time in nibbling at his bottom lip. He gladly parts his lips for you, your tongues dancing fervently as you revel in the taste that is so entirely and uniquely him. You drag your nails down his chest causing him to shiver against you, his hands snapping to your hips.

“Easy, tiger,” you whisper against his lips before beginning to kiss your way down his jaw, occasionally leaving gentle nips as you trail down his neck, over his chest. Your teeth graze against his nipples at which Pero draws in a sharp breath, his hand reaching up to grip your hair. Smirking against his skin, you continue on your path downwards, kissing down his stomach which tightens under your touch. You follow the path of soft hairs below his navel down to the curls at the base of his cock, your chin brushing against him. Your eyes flash up to his as you grin, neglecting his cock in favor of kissing along the inside of his thighs, nibbling gently at the skin in a manner not unlike the way he first teased you when he had his head between your legs. Pero’s legs tremble under your touch, his hips bucking ever so slightly as the neediest moan you have ever heard from him escapes his lips, followed by a frustrated growl.

With a grin, you finally take the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning softly at the taste of him. The hand in your hair tightens for a moment before relaxing, trying to remember to be gentle with you as your mouth renders him unable to form a coherent thought. Achingly slowly, you begin to bob your head along his length, hollowing out your cheeks as you do. With every movement, you draw another beautiful sound from your Spaniard; a moan, a grunt, a hiss…and it all sounds like music in that deliciously deep voice of his. You need more. Taking a deep breath, you lower your head, taking him as deep as you can till your nose nestles in the curls at the base his cock. Pero lets out a choked sounding moan, eyes snapping down to you, wide with surprise. He tugs at your hair, trying to ease you off of him as he feels his release rapidly coming on.

“C-Cielo, fuck, I-I’m gonna…” You resist the tugging on your hair, looking up at him with hooded eyes as you reach up to cup his balls. The look in your eyes as you play with him is enough to finally send him toppling over that edge, a string of profanities, both English and Spanish, pouring from those beautiful lips of his. His hand in your hair tightens its grip as he goes rigid underneath you as he fills your mouth. When he finishes, you slowly let him out of your mouth as he watches you with a look of disbelief and desire. That coy smile still on your face, you swallow, opening your mouth to show him.

“Dios…” His low and husky voice sends a shiver through your body as he sits up, the hand in your hair pulling you to him for a rough, sloppy kiss. He groans at the taste of him on your lips, grabbing your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back until the tender flesh slips from between his teeth. “Mí princessa perfecta…” His voice drips with arousal and desire, low and gruff in his chest.

“Let me ride you, Pero.” The confidence and desire in your voice surprises even you, but you know it has the desired effect when you feel him twitch against your thigh, already getting hard for you again.

“You will be the death of me, mí cielo…” He smirks at you as he lays back, hands resting on your hips. You lean down to kiss him again, unable to get enough of the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin against yours.  His fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he works himself back up. You reach down to ghost your fingers over him and he jumps in your hand, bringing a smirk to your lips. Quickly reaching for a condom in your nightstand, you sit back to tear it open with you teeth. Pero’s eyes ravage your body, a flush across his cheeks and chest as he waits for you. Deciding you are taking too long, he runs a hand across the front of your hip and over your mound to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing quick circles against you.

“F-Fuck,” you hiss, a tremble running through your body as you lean forward, bracing yourself against Pero’s chest. When your eyes find his face, he’s smirking at you with a look that you are sure you had been wearing only moments before; confident and self assured. With a shaky hand, you grab his wrist, grinding against him a few times before pulling his hand away. You grasp his cock, quickly rolling the condom on to him as his hand grabs your hip again. The low hum that you pull from him as you do sends a warm tingle straight to your absolutely dripping core and you raise yourself up on your knees, shifting forward just enough to slowly lower yourself down on to him. Your head falls back as you breathe out a moan when your hips meet his, fully seating him inside of you. Pero’s nails dig into your hips as he fights to hold on to his self control and not flip you over to pound you into the mattress.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you raise your hips ever so slowly before sliding back down. Your eyes find Pero’s, just as delirious and drunk on pleasure as your own. You let out a heady sounding moan  at the sight of that handsome, grumpy face creased in the pleasure that you provide him, quickly speeding up your pace, the sound of skin slapping skin as you bounce on him made all the more lewd as your arousal drips from you, coating his thighs. The moans and whimpers of pleasure tumble from your lips in a near constant stream, only to be punctuated by a near scream as Pero works to meet your thrusts, hips lifting up against you as you slide down against him. You slump forward, overwhelmed in pleasure and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly to him as his hips snap up against you at a relentless pace.

“P-Pero, oh fuck, Pero!” You whimper against him, turning you head to bite at the skin of his shoulder, earning a hiss from him, his hips stuttering for the briefest of moments.

“I want – hng- I want you to cum for me, nenita. Please,” he growls in your ear, nipping at the earlobe as he slams up into you. You nails dig into the skin of his chest, leaving half-moon divots in the feverish flesh.

“S-Say my name,” you beg, desperate to hear it tumble from his lips. And when it does, your body tenses and you see stars as your orgasm washes over you. You clench down on Pero, ripping a guttural moan from his lips as he chants your name over and over again like a prayer. He slams into you only a few times more before his own orgasm seizes him in throes of pleasure, holding your hips tightly against his own. You whimper out his name at the feeling of him twitching inside of you, closing your eyes to press your forehead against his shoulder as you pant for air.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms abate, he lowers his hips slowly to the bed and you raise your face from his shoulder, smiling fondly down at him. A sheen of sweat covers his near glowing skin, his lips parted slightly as he tries to regain his own breath. His fingers have resumed the gentle lines along your back as he calms down, softening inside of you. You lean in to press a kiss to his left cheek, then the right, then his nose before finally his lips. One of his hands moves to cradle your head gently as your lips work against his at a lazy pace. Breaking the gentle kiss, you rest your forehead against his, a smile gracing your lips.

“You’re stunning,  mí cielo,” he mutters, his hand resting on your cheek. You giggle softly, turning to kiss his palm.

“And you take such good care of me.” Your reply has the flush returning to his cheeks as he grumbles something about it being his job, only causing you to giggle more. You bite your lip as you lift your hips just enough for him to slip out of you, slide off of his chest to cuddle into his side. He takes care of cleaning himself up with the tissues you conveniently decided to start keeping on the nightstand before he pulls a blanket over the both of you, cradling you to him as he leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I can’t wait to make a home with you, mí cielo,” he murmurs against your hair, causing your heart to skip a beat. You press a gentle kiss to his chest and hum softly in acknowledgment.

“Regardless of where we end up, so long as I’m with you, I’m already home.” Pero’s arms tighten around you at your confession, your voice thick with pleasure and heavy with sleep. You hear his heart speed up in his chest, and you smile. He gives you a grunt in agreement, but the beat of his heart gives away his excitement. Slowly, your eyes slip closed as exhaustion overtakes you.

“Te amo…” The words are but a breath, and you aren’t even sure you actually heard them as you dance on the precipice of unconsciousness. You could ask him tomorrow, you think, as you slip into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~

Translations: Bella - Beautiful Hermosa -Gorgeous Gracias – Thank you gruñón - Grumpy mí novio – my boyfriend Guapo -Sexy papí – (Do I really need to translate this?) cariño - Darling Belleza Beauty la luz de mí vida. - the light of my life Cálmate – Calm down cielo – literally: “sky.” used to mean “heaven” Mí princessa perfecta – My perfect princess Nenita – Baby girl mí cielo – my heaven Te amo - I love you (used for lovers)

Tag list:  Permanent: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @tangledlove27, @paintballkid711, @lose-eels​ Modern!Pero: @littleferal, @lilkermit14, @the-feckless-wonder, @whiskeyslasso, @yespolkadotkitty​​, @cryptkeepersoul​, @lackofhonor​

Tag lists are open! Requests are open!

[shirtlesssammy]

4x17: It's a Terrible Life

How have we not recapped this yet? Man, this one holds a special place in Boris’s heart -- even if it’s a Cas-less episode. (Natasha: I LITERALLY said the same thing.)

Then:

This is just gratuitous

Now:

Okay, by this point we know the premise of this episode. I’m just going to list all the Well Respected Man things Dean Smith does. 

He wakes up at 6:00am to an iPod. 

He steams his rice milk.

He wears suspenders and cufflinks. 

He drives a Prius.

He turns off the hard rock for NPR. 

Dean Smith is the Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover Bridge and Iron. 

He types memos in Word.

He uses a headset to talk on the phone. 

He plays office mini-golf while schmoozing on said headset. 

He watches Project Runway (Ok, Dean Winchester totally watches that too, lbr.)

HE EATS SALAD.

He says the word ‘vis-a-vis’.

His boss Mr. Adler is very impressed with him. Good stuff!

He works late.

He is thinking of doing the Master Cleanse. 

He leaves at 5:30 (or really a couple minutes before, rebel!)

On the elevator ride out of the building, another passenger asks if he knows Dean. Dean, focused on his Blackberry, does not recognize the dude. The other dude won’t let it go and Dean tells him to “save it for the health club” before leaving. 

Sam Wesson works in the Tech Support section of Sandover. He mainly tells people to turn it off and back on again. Works every time! Sam and another buddy, Ian, head for coffee. They ask Paul, another worker, if he wants to join them. He’s busy working! Okay, okay, wait one moment. Paul got caught surfing porn on company computers and he still has a job!? WOW. 

Ian grabs some office pencils in the break room. (And we get a nice little intro shot from within the microwave….very nice easter egg for us second (and beyond) viewers.) He then asks Sam about the dreams he’s been having. Sam tells Ian that he dreamed that he saved a grim reaper named Tessa from demons. Ian finds that HILARIOUS. 

At his clown car sized cubicle later, Sam drifts off, only to have vivid visions of murder and monsters --and Dean’s in them. He bolts awake, and looks around disconcerted. 

Sam takes a walk and ends up in the same elevator as Dean again. They eye each other warily. Sam asks Dean what he thinks of ghosts. TOTALLY NORMAL ELEVATOR TALK. Dean hasn’t really given them much thought. Vampires either. Sam decides now is a good time to corner a perfect stranger and tell him about his CRAZY dreams. That’s what a journal is for, Sam! Dean dismisses this crazy man and exits the elevator. 

Sam starts researching (AW BABY) the monsters he’s been dreaming about. Ian interrupts him and tells him that he got an email telling him to report to HR. He’s not too worried as he heads off to his fate. Sam then hears Paul freaking out because he just lost a whole day’s work. 

Paul stays way past closing time trying to find his lost files to no avail. His breath puffs. They must turn the temp down after hours at Sandover. He heads to the breakroom, sticks a plastic fork in the door of the microwave and sticks his head in the microwave, and hits cook. GOOD STUFF. 

The next day, as Paul’s body gets carted away, the entire office looks on, including Sam Wesson and Dean Smith. Dean thinks there’s something weird going on. He looks up Paul’s personnel file (um, like whoa, how did he get access to that?) and learns that he was set to retire in two weeks. Curious. 

Sam is curious as well, but Ian is too busy working to engage. Dean calls Ian up to his office. Dean points out that there were just a few errors in a form he filled out yesterday. Ian is very remorseful. Dean doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. He just wants him to fix the errors. Very un-Ian-like, Ian starts freaking out over his mistakes. Ian runs to the bathroom and Dean follows. He finds Ian staring at himself in the mirror. His breath frosts just before all the water and soap turn on. He insists Ian leave with him. Ian turns to look at Dean, and stabs himself with a pencil. GUH. Dean sees the reflection of an old man in the bathroom stall door as Ian dies. Dean calls for help. 

Dean is relaying the events to the authorities when he sees Sam looking on. Later, he calls Sam to his office. 

For Thirst Science:

Sam and Dean learn that they both started working at Sandover three weeks prior. (Dean! You picked a hell of a week to start the Master Cleanse!) Sam asks Dean if he saw something when Ian died. Dean doesn’t quite admit it but he saw a ghost! Sam wonders about the suicides. “What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?” 

Sam brings up his dreams again. “So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?” Lololololol. No, OF COURSE NOT. Sam shows Dean emails that Ian and Paul got that sent them to HR on the 14th floor --the HR office is on the 7th floor. Hmm. They decide to head to the 14th floor and room 1444. 

Mr. Blandface McBlanderson heads there first. It’s an old storage room. The air gets frosty, electronics buzz on. Sam and Dean rush down the hallway after hearing the man’s cries. The door is locked but Sam Fucking Wesson just busts it open. Dean is duly impressed. Sam is too. 

The ghost old man attacks Sam and Dean but Dean smashes him away with a wrench (an IRON wrench).

Decompressing back at Dean’s place, Sam longs for beer. “I’m on a cleanse,” Dean explains as he gets him a water. “I got rid of all the carbs in the house.” Oh DEAN.

At the end of this cleanse you chalk a pentagram on the floor, light a black candle, and barter your soul to get rid of those last five pounds

They compliment each other on their ghost fighting prowess. Sam “Boy Wonder” Wesson briefly tells Dean about how he feels out of place in his life. That’s SO MUCH oversharing, Sam! They decide to hit the research track. Dean finds………..the GHOSTFACERS. 

We montage our way through Smith & Wesson’s research, interspersed with Ghostfacer tips. A guy named Sandover turns out to be the ghost - a workaholic who lived for his company. Turns out he’ll kill for it too. They trace a number of historical deaths to Sandover employees. It turns out that the room with the ghost attack was Sandover’s office. 

The Ghostfacers continue to educate Sam and Dean on the finer points of ghost hunting: SALT. IRON. GUN.

Dean absorbs this, then wonders where one might even purchase a gun. Isn’t there a waiting period? Oh, sweet summer child. This here is the United States of America and it’s far too easy to get a gun. The Ghostfacers lesson continues...

Ed: The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.

Harry: Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.

Ed: It's illegal in some states.

Harry: All states.

Ed: Possibly all states.

Smith and Wesson return to the office to search for pieces of non-cremated Sandover. Sam gets cornered by a baby-faced security guard, leaving Dean alone to continue the hunt. In Sam’s elevator, electronics start to glitch. It’s probably nothing! The guard pries open the elevator door and crawls out onto the next floor.

The elevator slips and the guard falls victim to the blood cannon. Sam adds this incident to his list of Terrible Things That Happen in Elevators.

Sam and Dean reconnect by a historical display which includes Sandover’s gloves. Those gloves seem like likely candidates for remnant DNA...and in short order the ghost proves them right. Old Man Sandover zaps in as they break the glass. They fight!

Sandover looks like he’s got the upper hand, lowering his brain-zapping fingers to Dean, when Sam lights the gloves on fire. Sandover goes up like a torch.

Smith and Wesson are amped up after the fight! Sam wants to hunt ghosts full time. Dean scoffs at this. “How would we get by? Stolen credit cards, eating diner food drenched in saturated fats, sharing a crap motel room every night...You don’t want to go fighting ghosts without any health insurance!” Wise words. 

For Look at this Well-Prepared Sunshine Science:

Sam confesses that his hunting dreams featured Dean as well. “What if that’s who we really are?” Sam wonders. 

Dean defends the reality of his life. HE WENT TO STANFORD. His father’s name is Bob, his mother’s name is Ellen, and his sister is Jo. Excuse me. I’m just going to….stand outside my door and HOWL MOURNFULLY about this with the local coyotes. 

“We’re supposed to be someone else.” Sam tells Dean that he started at Sandover because he broke up with Madison - but now her number leads to an animal hospital. (I swear to god, I’m gonna chew off my own arm at this show.) Sam says that Dean’s more than just a corporate suit. Dean shoos Sam from his office. 

The next morning, Sam’s back at the daily grind. He steps back from his phone and then swings a crowbar at it, Office Space style. 

Upstairs, Zachariah smarms his way into Dean’s office and clucks that he looks tired. He’s heard good things about Dean and offers him a generous bonus.

Zachariah hints that a big promotion could happen in 8-10 short years of constant work and sacrifice. The joy in Dean’s eyes fades. Dean turns it down and tells Zachariah that he plans to quit. “I have some other work I have to do,” Dean tells him. “This - it’s not who I’m supposed to be.” Zachariah smiles and zaps Dean’s brain. The camera desaturates.

“My god am I hungry,” a confused Dean observes as Zachariah chuckles. (Stop reading Goop, Dean! Get off that cleanse!) Zachariah explains that he’s Castiel’s boss, and he’s on Earth to ensure that the Winchesters fulfill their destiny - as hunters! 

“You’re a hunter,” Zachariah explains. It’s in Dean’s blood. (I hiss at this.) And if Dean works hard enough, he’ll do everything he’s “destined to do. All of it.” GUH. Zachariah urges Dean to embrace his life. It could be worse, after all!

Semi-quote Kinda Life, Baby:

Good stuff

Did you try turning it off and then on? 

Look, man, I don't know you, okay? But I'm gonna do a public service and let you know that you overshare

How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?

I don’t believe in destiny. I believe in dealing with what’s right in front of us 

Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[lilithrebellion]

Now pls roast the worst canon partner in otome games ‘cuz i’m sick of seeing how many people ship him with Yui🙏😪

You're going to have to me more specific 😂

No, actually I'm pretty sure you mean Ayato which is my personal most hated and there's a whoooole story here so alright a trip down memory lane, here we go!

So back in 2015 after I first finished the anime I was so mad about it, that I decided it would be a great idea to record myself playing the game with commentary just so I could complain and I dragged my friend @squirrelno2 along with me. (I'm sorry for subjecting you to that)

When we got through the prologue we came to the conclusion (at great pains) that Ayato was the "least worst" out of the three triplets available at the start and that's how we made the route choice.

And oh my god, we could only get to dark....9? I think? Before we were just done and couldn't do it anymore. There were just so many terrible things one after another, but I will NEVER forget this one quote of his that quite literally almost made me throw up once I fully processed it.

....You know what it's too gross, I don't want it on my blog, Just go to this page and scroll to the very bottom, it's his very last line.

https://dialovers-translations.tumblr.com/post/189641461771/diabolik-lovers-grand-edition-for-switch

.....Yeah.

So, the guy pretty much says he can't get off unless it's literal rape. That's who Yui's getting shipped with. Yup.

(sidenote: I'm not kink-shaming consensual non-consent stuff here. That's y'know actually consensual. But it's pretty damn clear that this quote refers to just plain rape.)

And I don't care how many times someone tries to claim "character development" for him because this never changes. Rejet might have quietly toned it down later, but he never stops with the constant casual sexual assault/harassment. I looked up the LE prologue one time to get the premise for planning my adaptation of it and fucking boob grab is literally the first thing he does I scream. (He never stops with the nickname-that-I-will-never-type does he? Yeah. Zero character development.)

I don't think I need to say anymore, honestly.

Actually though, that old playthrough I did is still on Youtube if anyone wants to watch it. 😅

It's old and embarrassing though haha. It was also recorded before I realized I was in love with Yui, but now that I think about it, I can still remember that during that playthrough was the first time I saw those tiny moments where Yui stands up for herself. So anytime that happens, you might notice that I get a bit quiet. So um yeah, watch that to see me slowly fall in love with Yui in real time lol.

[welcome-to-the-cafe]

Shang-Chi (2021) Review Pt. 2

This one will be about the less character-relevant stuff, such as casting, props, settings, and design.

Easiest first: props and costumes.

A bit cool, a bit silly, and bit too "Chinese-themed".

The old Ten-Ring troops had normal armor for the time and age. The new Ten Ring troops looked like the Snake-Eyes fodder ninjas but with tassled helmets. Like I appreciate what they were going for, but...it look dumb dude. And what they were doing with only one hook sword? The electrified thing was cool, but y'all didn't use the bladed hand guard, the combo hook move, the spiked pommel...wasted potential smh. And then the electric arc crossbows....again I appreciate the idea, but that was silly, especially after we showed the Ten Rings sniper with a normal ass gun. Or, just go full sino-futurism and give me the chainsaw spiked club, the electrified monk's spade, taser three section staff.

The villager's clothes were too...saturated, and monochromatic. It kinda reminded me of Mulan (2020) actually, the white people's ancient Chinese clothing. In contrast, in the he TianLongBaBu wuxia series I've been watching, people dress in...normal earth tones. Oh also, too many fucking sandals, where are my black loafers and thick white socks, with rope bindings? Like the kind modern Shaolin monks wear?? The villager's weapons too. Only Xialing's was kind of interesting, the rest are vanilla staffs and sword+shield. Boooo. Where's the dragonscale fangtianhuaji? The dragonscale guandao? Ok I'm done. Just disappointed.

Wenwu's costumes were pure drip in every scene. Zero complaints.

Shang-Chi's letterman's jacket was my favorite costume to be honest. He should not have changed in the village. The final costume seemed a bit too...modern, but not quite to the level of the Black Panther suit. It just seemed like Western superhero top with a vaguely Chinese pattern on it. Or it looked kindof...southeast asian? Wish it had no sleeves.

Katy should've kept her Macau drip. The "traditional" robe just didn't look right.

Xialing looked the best in her inverse Bruce Lee colors crop top and sweats. Like damn.

Ying Li's robes' green is too saturated in my opinion, unnaturally. Same with Michelle Yeoh's character. Now that I think about it, I hardly ever see bright green in traditional Chinese clothes...or modern Chinese fashion. Her pristine white/biege wushu outfit is also meh for me.

Death Dealer's dark blue + yellow colors are quite striking, but a bit odd and out of place with the rest of the Ten Rings' getup. Perhaps it was intentional, since he's the elite trainer? I wish it was more modern, a la Snake Eyes' suit. I would also like to complain about his opera face makeup though; why only the top half? Is that even a real opera face design? It's kind of a dumb half-ass reference I think. Like, Noh masks are used all the time for creepy effect, why not Beijing Opera?

Next, CGI animals.

Morris the Hundun/Dijiang was cute, but I half expected him to suddenly go nuts and devour Slattery, since the Hundun is one of the primordial evil beasts. But Disney needs their marketable mascot. I even saw a Lego piece for him before the movie was released!

The trip through the other world was a bit too safari-like. Like wow, the Ninetails is just chilling by the road, and a herd of Qilin conveniently pass by. The execution of these creatures were fine, though the Qilin eyes were too "dead".

I don't have problems with the Lions' design, but they were completely unnecessary, and lowered the stakes for the final battle for me. Those two lions could literally tear apart all five of Wenwu's trucks in less than a minute.

I stated already, the big evil monster, the little soulsuckers, and the dragon are completely unnecessary to me. Even when I saw just the wood carving of the soulsucking bats, I felt disappointed. Xialing and Shangchi spent way too long riding the big dragon and not doing kungfu :/

Onto settings.

I just recently visited Bay Area! The hilliness of SF was nicely showed off by the bus fight.

Macao seemed well-grounded and normal for a modern Chinese metropolis. Was portrayed better than Tokyo was in Snake Eyes in my opinion. The bamboo scaffolding scene reminded me heavily of Rush Hour 2's Hong Kong fight, and I could hear Jackie Chan assuring us "don't worry, Chinese bamboo, very strong!".

The Ten Rings compound was...eh. No defining features to locate it anywhere real so whatever. But the interior was weirdly homey?

The Ta Lo village is what I really want to complain about: why they gotta throw Chinese people back to the Xia dynasty like that? Straw huts? Really? And there was a total of like 7 buildings there, across a tiny area. That is not a village, it's a medium-sized temple complex. Kung Fu Panda 3's hidden panda village was loads more impressive, with interesting geography. This was on a flat plane next to a pond. Combined with the costuming, it's like hello, it's hokey Western orientalism again.

Casting.

Tony Leung. Perfect. Outstanding. Phenomenal. Sexy as hell. I have recovered fully from Lust, Caution. I see on Tiktok that westerners are thirsting after him, and I am very satisfied. The "Killmonger-Loki" Effect is now the "Wenwu-Killmonger-Loki" Effect. I only wish he were younger, because I hate the "daddy" kink. Mr. Leung, you are a hero to Asian-American men. Thank you.

Awkwafina. Yeah she is pretty good as the unabashed ABC friend. But lately, I feel she has been over-used as the main Chinese-American actress. On some social media, I have seen Black users complain of her 'blaccent' and vow to boycott Shang-Chi in protest. I'm inclined to defend her, as it is probably what she grew up with, and the boycott feels like another attempt to draw moral hierarchical divisions between minorities. Similar sentiment is "yall didn't come out for Black Panther, why should we come out for Shang-Chi?". I don't have any data as to whether 'we' did come out for Black Panther, but I generally disapprove of POC factionalism.

Simu Liu. I'm glad that Westerners are thirsting over him too. I'm glad he's very enthusiastic and affable, and well-liked in the Asian-American community. He's us! And he got a shirtless scene! But the catch is...he doesn't fit the current Chinese standard for "hot guy actor".

From the majority angle: that's toxic af. He's hot enough, why are we being so picky with dumb Asian beauty standards? Will we ever properly support ourselves? Like damn, this is the first Asian-American lead in a goddamn Marvel movie, and this is how you treat him?? By the Heavens.

From the other angle: his eyes are small, his jaw kind of round, head kind of wide. Not the most masculine, but definitely not feminine. He's a normal Chinese-American dude. Chinese dude, Harbin, Heilongjiang born. Compare that to Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Paul Rudd, Chris Pratt, Sebastian Stan, Chadwick Boseman, Anthony Mackie, etc. These are among the finest western specimens; why did the pick the Asian hero to be played by the 'normal-looking' dude? Was Jackson Wang not available? Or Ludi Lin? I personally have a suspicion that his appearance most fits the stereotypical look of an Asian man to Western audiences, and that's why he was cast.

He's received hate for this, from Reddit r/aznidentity, the sub that I frequent, which currently is cheering Shang-Chi's box-office success. That's toxic af, and must be heartbreaking for him. Unfortunately, it's part of the larger conflict of Western and Eastern media, representation, markets, and culture. And that's a big fish to wrangle in part 3.