#honestly having it show up this early sends a message to the player

[konfizry]

the indignation experience in tales of arise is not one of “holy shit they put indignation in tales????” as much as one of Indignation? At this point of the game? In this part of the battle? This early in the playthrough? Localized entirely within the second boss’ chamber? 

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

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

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March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we dating?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jennie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it hits you. 

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

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what? 

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t leave. 

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

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

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

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

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with you? 

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

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

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry for what?” 

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

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

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

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

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

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

“Five-hundred a week?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, who are your models?” 

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

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

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

“I’m not modeling.” 

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

“Partners.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe, everything alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

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

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

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

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little–” 

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

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

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have to?” 

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bun, be careful!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

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

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

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

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

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

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

“Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scream. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

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

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

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

Some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oui, oui.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[amayawolfe]

Itsy Bitsy Spider (Chrollo x Fem.Reader)

A/N: fluff, spiders, angst, some harsh language

Word Count: 5262

Summary: Having been born in Meteor City, the majority of your life has been nothing but hardships. Looking back on it, you often wondered how you even made it to adulthood let alone become the treasured partner and wife of eight years to the head of the Phantom Troupe and mother to yours and Chrollo's son.

In the middle of prepping dinner, Chrollo and some of the troupe return from a successful mission. Your husband fills you in on the details as he and a couple of the members begin to help in the kitchen. The peace is suddenly shattered when your six year old comes running into the kitchen terrified, screaming, and claiming there is a monster in his room!

taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow @daisies-write

   The menu music to the DVD you were watching gently woke you from your unintentional nap. You blinked your eyes a few times to bring them into focus and stretched your curled up body along the large, overstuffed couch. This particular spot on the couch was often your place of rest unless your husband was home; in which case the couch was hardly ever used.

   Using the remote you turned off the tv and player then pushed yourself up into a sitting position. You snatched up your phone from it's place on the coffee table and checked the time. It was nearly early evening.

   "Guess I should start thinking about what to make for dinner," you said to yourself as you swipe through your phone to check for messages.

   Down in this underground hideout beneath Meteor City, phone signal alone was nearly impossible to receive. Thankfully, one of the family was able to figure out how to set up a computer that would broadcast Wi-Fi into the hideout from a line that went to the surface where a receiver was carefully hidden. This way, you could at least send and receive messages between the family and yourself.

   Your eyebrows rose and a smile touched your lips when you saw that you had a message from your husband, Chrollo.

Luci: Shopping run was successful, we should be home in the evening.

   You smirked a little at the cryptic message. The "shopping run" Chrollo was talking about was actually a heist during a gem and jewelry show. A heist in which you had helped plan out with your husband and three other family members.

   You glowered down at your phone when you realized the message had been sent a little over an hour ago while you were asleep.

   "I really need to get a louder phone," you muttered to yourself as you began to type a response.

You: I just woke up...

You: I haven't started dinner yet, is there anything you or the others would like?

   Phone still in hand you got to your feet and head in the direction of your son's room. As you walk through the hideout your sock covered foot falls are silent from a lifetime of practice. You pass a collection of pictures hanging along the walls. There are photos of you, Chrollo, your son, as well as the rest of the family doing random things a family would do.

 There were a couple from around the holidays and you and Chrollo are watching your son open gifts. Another was on Chrollo's birthday and two of the members had sandwiched his face between two pieces of vanilla cake with strawberry frosting. The look of shock and horror on Chrollo's face had been perfectly captured. While it was one of your favorite photos, he despised it. Chrollo's favorite picture on the wall was of you and him stretched out on the day bed in the library reading a book together while his head was resting on your nearly full term pregnant belly. You had to admit, it was a very cute picture.

   The home was enormous, consisting of s/n's room and his own bathroom, yours and Chrollo's large master bedroom with a large bathroom, a gourmet kitchen, library, study, massive living room, dining hall, training area along with a gym and a pool, a giant vault for looted treasures, multiple guests rooms with their own bathrooms, there was even a "war room" where missions and strategies were discussed.

   All the rooms in the place were lavishly decorated and furnished for maximal comfort. Any electronics and appliances were always top of line. Your husband always insisted on the best of the best for you and the family.

   Upon reaching your son's open door way you peeked in on him and found him laying on his belly on the floor reading a book aloud softly. He had his collection of stuffed animals surrounding him as though they were an audience listening to the story he was telling. A majority of them were a variety of teddy bears of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Ever since he saw a picture of a tiny teddy bear defending a sleeping child from a large monster he had taken a great liking to them.

   S/n's favorite teddy bear was one that Chrollo had asked Machi to make for him during a difficult time for s/n where he was greatly missing his father whenever he went on missions. It was of average size for a teddy bear and had medium brown fur. The button eyes were the same shade of grey blue as Chrollo's and it even had a dark long coat with white fur lining. But how Machi really outdid herself were the little details of a tiny book with a felt cover sewn to the teddy bears paw, the same mark on it's forehead as Chrollo's, and giving the bear little blue green glass bead earrings.

   Your son had been so happy to the point of joyous tears when his father gave him the bear made especially for him. He decided right there and then to name the bear "Sir Brollo." Upon s/n announcing this, you had to bite your tongue so hard it bled to keep yourself from laughing at the bright red look that came over your husband's face.    Sir Brollo had a front row seat sitting right beside s/n as he read. That bear rarely ever left your son's side.

   You rest your head against the door frame as you leaned against it and listened to your son read to his "friends." It saddened you knowing your son had no one to play with except for you and the family when ever they were home. But being the son of the head of the heavily feared and all powerful Phantom Troupe, precautions had to be taken.    There had been a few dangerously close calls of s/n being taken away to be used as revenge or leverage against the Phantom Troupe. Close calls that resulted in a sense of dread and anxiety that never fully went away. Even after Chrollo had gathered the nen techniques needed to build you, your son, and the family this safe place, the possible threat of invasion always weighed heavy in the back of your mind. And poor s/n was never allowed out of the hide out unless he had you or Chrollo and at least three other members of the family with him.

   These constant negative feelings that lingered in the air had taken a toll on your son causing him to become a very nervous and skittish child with a fear of nearly everything. You and the others hoped that, over time, he would be able to shake these fears and stand up to them.

   When your son finished the chapter he was on you lifted your head and gently called his name.    "s/n"

   The child jumped and looked up at you with wide blue grey eyes. His father's eyes. You could feel the sadness in your own eyes form at his frightened expression.

   "I'm sorry kiddo," you said softly and entered his room to kneel down close to him. "I didn't mean to startle you, I just wanted to let you know that your father and some of the family will be home soon."

   "Oh, okay, thank you mommy," s/n replied softly.

   "Is there something special you want for dinner tonight?" you asked.

   "Hmmm, not really. Just, no fish, please," your son wrinkled his nose, "I really don't like fish."

   You couldn't help but laugh aloud at his response. Stroking his soft hair you leaned forward, and kissed him on the forehead.

   "I know, baby, I know. I promise, no fish."

   s/n smiled at your  words and he began to kick his feet in the air just above him.    "Who else will be home?"    "I think your uncles Fei, Phinks, and Shal will be coming in with your dad."

   Right then your phone pinged and vibrated alerting you to a message response. Glancing down at it you saw Chrollo had responded to your previous question.

   "Oh," you said, "speak of the devil."

Luci: I have been asked to put in a request for your famous stew.

   You looked down at s/n, "How does stew sound for dinner?"

   His eyes grew wide and he smiled happily.

   "Yeah!" he cheered as he rolled to one side and pumped a tiny fist into the air. You couldn't help but laugh again and ruffled your son's hair.

   "Alright my silly boy, would you like to help me in the kitchen?"

   "No, I want to keep reading to Sir Brollo and the others," he answered honestly. "I want to finish a few more chapters before time to eat."

   "Okay, I'll come get you when it's time to eat then." You rose to your feet and started to leave the room. At the door way you turned and added, "I love you, sweetie."

   "I love you too, mommy," s/n beamed then returned to his book.

   As you made your way to the kitchen you messaged your husband a reply.

You: I can do that, I'll go ahead and get started. See you soon?

Luci: See you soon, princess.

   You felt the warmth of a blush touch your cheeks. A reaction that always occurred when Chrollo called you by his favorite pet name for you.

   When you entered the massive kitchen you set some upbeat classical music to play from your phone. You loved listening to music while you cooked and baked. You then brought down a large stock pot as well as collected a peeler, knife, mixing bowl, and cutting bored. From the fridge you set out a large chunk of beef, bacon, carrots, and celery. The pantry had the potatoes, flour, beef stock, onions, a bottle of red wine and garlic you needed.

   You really felt like you were getting into the grove as you gave your hands a good scrub. You diced up a few slices of bacon and tossed them into the stock put and turned the stove flame on to a medium high heat. While the bacon started to cook and release the greasy fat you were going to brown the beef cubes in, you cut the beef chunk into bite size pieces with impressive speed and accuracy. Chrollo wasn't the only one good with a knife.

   Once the meat was all cubed you tossed it into the mixing bowl along with some olive oil. Tossing the meat and oil in the bowl until the meat was evenly coated you then added flour, garlic powder, onion powder, season salt, and pepper; stirring it until it the meat was all evenly coated.

   Checking on the bacon and giving it a stir, you decided to let the bacon bits crisp a bit more and started working on dicing up a large yellow onion. Humming along with a playful piece of classical music known as "Thunder and Lightning polka" by Johann Strauss II, you really felt like you had a good rhythm going and was very much engrossed in your work.

   So much so you didn't even notice someone quietly enter the kitchen and walk up behind you. You didn't notice them watching while you worked, waiting for a pause in your actions before placing their hands on your waist.

   You let out a small yelp of surprise as you knocked the persons hands aside and spun around quickly, bringing the sharp edge of the kitchen knife up to your would be assailant's throat. You had expected to see the face of a dangerous stranger. But instead, you where greeted by the warm, familiar face of your husband. There was a small playful smile on his lips and an extra little gleam in his eyes. Chrollo normally wasn't one to sneak up on you like he just did, but he did tend to become mischievously playful after a successful mission. You figured it was most likely from the adrenaline high.

   "Damnit, Chrollo," you hissed as you removed the knife from his neck and leaned back against the counter, "You know better than that. What if I had cut your neck wide open?"    "Mmm, but you didn't," he replied softly.

   You sighed and rolled your eyes, Chrollo was never one to dwell on the "what ifs" of life.

   "I got you a little something, my dear," he stated as he reached into the pocket of his favorite long coat. Your husband was always bringing you little gifts when ever he went on a mission without you.

   From his pocket he with drew a small, dark navy blue velvet box and held it before you. You quickly washed and dried your hands so as to not to get the box all dirty, carefully took the box from his hand and let out a small gasp upon opening it.

   Inside the dainty box was a small rose charm necklace. The piece was masterfully crafted as the delicate petals of the rose were made from chips of rubies while the petals were made of dark green chrome tourmaline chips. Both gems were set in fine gold which also made up the delicate stem of the rose. The chain was made of fine delicate links also in gold.

    "Oh Chrollo," you breathed in awe, "it's absolutely gorgeous."

   Your husband smiled at your reaction, pleased to see you so happy with the piece he had picked out for you. He held up his hand to take back the box.

   "May I?"

   Without a need for question you handed the box back to him. You watched him take the necklace out of the box and he returned the box back to his pocket. You turned around as he held up the necklace and you moved your hair at the way so Chrollo could have unobstructed access to your neck. He stepped closer as undid the delicate little clasp and carefully hung the necklace around your neck.

   After he redid the clasp behind your neck he slid his hands to your shoulders and placed a soft, warm kiss on your neck. Chrollo's breath tickled the fine hairs on the delicate skin causing goosebumps to erupt down your arms.

   "A piece fit for a princess," he whispered against your ear in a low, sultry voice.

   His hands moved down your sides to your waist and pulled you closer to him. Your back flush against his chest, you tilted your head to one side allowing him easy access as his he ran a trail of soft kisses from just below where you neck and shoulder connect to your ear. Chrollo's arms came around your waist and he hugged you tightly as he nuzzled his nose against your ear and breathed against the sensitive flesh. You braced your hands against the counter as your knees started to feel weak.

   Mischievous and playful were not the only moods that overcame Chrollo after a successful job. You looked forward to the private activities that were most likely to take place between you and your husband behind the closed bedroom door later that night.

   "Hey boss, we finished placing all the merchandise into the vault," called a familiar voice, ending the tender moment between you and your husband. As romantic as he could be, Chrollo was never really comfortable showing physical affection in front of the others. Something that both amused and annoyed you the entire eight plus years the two of you had been together.    Your husband gave you one last chaste kiss just below the earlobe before turning to Shalnark walking through the kitchen doorway.

   "Thank you, Shalnark. And what are the others up to?"

   "Oh, they're arguing over what to watch until dinner is done," Shal laughed.

   "Why am I not surprised," you said over your shoulder as you started to scoop the crispy bacon bits out of the stock pot with a slotted spoon. "Say, since you two are here why don't you help me out with peeling and cutting the vegetables? The sooner everything gets into the pot the sooner it'll be done and we can eat."

   "Sure thing!" Shal beamed, causing you to smile. He always seemed so happy to you and reminded you of a little ball of sunshine.

   "I'll go put my coat up and then I'll come back and help," Chrollo replied and strode from the kitchen. Shalnark came over and washed his hands.

   "If you don't mind, could you go ahead and peel and chop up the carrots first?" you asked as you started to add the coated beef cubes to the bacon fat.

   "Yea, I can do that," Shal chirped. He dried his hands and set to work peeling the carrots. "How's everything been here the last few weeks?"

   "Dull and quiet," you said with a sigh as you turned the meat cubes, "it's pretty much the same routine when everyone else is away. Not that I am complaining, really."    "I would hope not," Chrollo entered back into the kitchen without his coat. He was wearing a dark sleeveless shirt with a high collar and some white bands creating a pattern down the front, a dark pair of jeans and white socks. The shirt showed off his toned arms, chest, and shoulders and it enticed you to take a nice, long looks at your beloved.

   "'Dull and quiet' means 'safe' for my two greatest treasures." Chrollo took his turn at washing his hands before asking, "Now, what shall you have me do, dearest?"

   Deciding against speaking aloud the first thing that came to your mind and causing your husband to blush in front of a family member, you set him to work on peeling and cutting potatoes.

   You had removed the meat from the stock pot and added some red whine to deglaze the bottom of the pot when Feitan came in mumbling.

   "Did you lose the coin toss, Feitan?" Shal asked while he was chopping the carrots.

   "Yes," he sighed, then added bitterly" and I would much rather help here than watch another sports game."

   Chrollo smirked and Shalnark chuckled while you bit back a laugh. The three of you knew that Feitan would have greatly prefered watch some documentaries on famous criminals; yet somehow Phinks normally won the coin toss on what they would watch when it came to what those two would watch.

   "Well, Fei, in that case you can get the dinner roll dough out of the fridge, space them out in a greased baking then cover them with a towel so they can start rising."

   You felt the look Feitan shot at you more so than saw it. He had obviously been kidding about wanting to help out on the kitchen. Or, at the very least, he was putting on a show pretending that he actually didn't want to help out when in truth he did.

   When you didn't look back over your shoulder at him after a bit he sighed and went to go do as you had asked. You had made sure to give Feitan an easy enough task where he didn't have to ask someone to help get something down or where he would have to get a chair. You knew he could sometimes be a sensitive and prideful when it came to matters of his height.

   "So tell me, love, how did the mis-" your question to your husband was suddenly interrupted by the terrified screams of your son coming from his bedroom.

   "MONSTER!! MOMMY THERE'S A MONSTER!!!"

   Your heart nearly stopped as you dropped what you were doing and started to turn to run out of the kitchen along with Chrollo and the other two.

   Chrollo was the first to the door but came to an abrupt stop as s/n came around the corner and ran into his father. Your husband grabbed hold of him to keep him from falling backwards then maneuvered your son away from the door towards you so Feitan and Shalnark could pass to go investigate s/n's room.

   Keeping himself between the doorway and you and your son, Chrollo knelt down beside s/n who was now clinging to you and shaking with tears forming in his eyes. He placed a gentle hand on his son's upper back while you stroked his head.

   "Tell me what happened, son," he calmly ordered.

   "I was r-reading my book and a big monster c-came out of the corner of m-my room." s/n stammered.

   "What kind of monster, sweetie?" you asked.

   "We couldn't find anything, boss," Shalnark reported as he and Feitan returned.

   "It looked like a b-big spider!" s/n added.

   Chrollo's eyebrows started to creep up his forehead, "Spider?"

   Your son nodded.

   "PHINKS!" you nearly roared. Phinks had been known to play pranks on s/n in the past. Pranks that didn't go as he had planned and usually scared the poor kid senseless. The Troupe member claimed he was just trying to help s/n get over his fears, you usually ended up beating the crap out of him regardless.

   "It wasn't me!" came Phinks's response as he quickly joined Shalnark and Feitan. "I swear!"

   He shied away and stood behind the other two when you locked a deadly glare onto him.

   "No, mommy, it wasn't Uncle Phinks," s/n sniffled, "I was reading in my book and it got to a part with monster spiders then a huge spider appeared in my room!"

   There was a silent pause before nearly all the adults let out a collective sigh and their guards dropped.

   "See, I told you it wasn't me," Phinks muttered as he went back to watch the game.

   "Another false alarm," Feitan sighed while walking back into the kitchen.    "That's some imagination," Shalnark stated and gave s/n a pat head, "you must have thought the spider was one of those creature right out of your book, huh?"

   S/n nodded his head. His face was starting to turn red as he began to realize he had most likely been afraid of nothing once again.

   "But," he whispered sadly, "there really was a big spider in my room. And, I'm afraid it's going to hurt Sir Brollo."

   "Sir Brollo will be fine, love," you assured gently. "Give me a minute and daddy and I will come help look for the spider, okay?"

   s/n nodded and released his grip from you to stand a little closer to his father who rested a hand atop his sons head in means of comfort.

   You went to the stove, reduced it to medium low heat, added in the beef stock and spices then turned to Feitan and Shalnark.

   "Could you two please finish cutting up the vegetables and add them to the pot? Once that's done add in the meat last, give it a good stir then put the lid on. It should be good on it's own after that."

   "Can do, boss lady," Shalnark beamed.

   You thank them both and join your son and husband and the three of you head towards s/n's room with Chrollo in the lead. Upon entering the room everything seemed normal. S/n held onto you at the doorway and Chrollo walked a few steps further in while looking around carefully.  As he rounded the end of s/n's bed, looking down at a part of the floor you and s/n couldn't see, Chrollo actually jumped a little and a look of surprise appeared on his face.

   "Well, I was not expecting that." He blinked a couple times then began to look around the room for something.

   "What is it?" you asked. Chrollo smiled a little as he took a large clear plastic container and dumped out the contents to one side. He then went back over to the part of the floor you could not see, turned the container sideways and slowly knelt down.

   "An understandably good reason for our son to be scared," he replied softly, "at least at first."

   All you could see your husband do was make some slow, careful arm movements. He was speaking softly, to softly for you to here. You wanted to move forward to see what he was messing with but your son didn't want you to leave nor did he want to go farther into the room.

   You didn't have to wait long though, as Chrollo began to stand you could now see what he had corralled into the plastic container. It was indeed a spider, but not just any spider, this sider was enormous. With it's legs fanned out it was easily larger than your husbands face.

   "It's a snowy tarantula," Chrollo explained as he slowly walked over to the two of you, "it's sort of an ironic name considering it usually lives in hot, arid climates like the desserts around Meteor City."

   Once he was within a couple meters of you and s/n he knelt down and gently set the container on the floor. The creature inside barely moved as it seemed to turn and look up at Chrollo.

   "It's called a 'snowy' tarantula due to the white hairs all over it's body. The hairs actually shimmer and reflect the light just like fresh fallen snow. An evolutionary trait that developed to help reflect the dessert heat away from it's body and keep it cooler. A magnificent specimen to behold when the light hits it just right. Come see, s/n. She's actually quite docile."

   S/n looked up at you and you gave him a warm smile and a nod. He slowly let go of you and took one slow, cautious step after another towards his father and the spider that had frightened him so. You carefully followed behind your son wanting to get a look at the tarantula as well.

   As the two of you came closer, the tarantula daintily turned and looked up at you. You gasped slightly at the beautiful deep blue eyes that now stared up at you.

   "Now watch," your husband instructed and he began to carefully rotate the container in a circular side to side motion causing the light to dance across the hairs of the tarantula.

   "Whhoooaaaa." Your son's eyes grew wide in awe as a rainbow of prismed light moved over the hairs of the tarantula, giving her the effect of a living gem. "She's so pretty. I've never seen anything like it, daddy."

   Chrollo stopped the rotation of the container and carefully set it on the floor. He then reached over, placed his hand on the back of his son's head and gently pulled s/n's head towards his own as he too began to lean forward. The two touched foreheads over the tarantula and looked into each others eyes.

   "There is no shame in having fear, s/n, but do not let that fear keep you from learning and understanding the unknown. What once was scary and ugly could turn out to be something wonderful and beautiful once you find the courage to face it. Do you understand?"

   Your son smiled and nodded slightly, "Yes, daddy, I understand. I'll try harder to be brave, just like you, mommy, and the rest of the family."

   Your husband returned the smiled and closed his eyes, "Very good, my son."

   S/n closed his eyes as well and the two shared an unspoken bonding moment over the snowy tarantula who just looked up at them. You smiled down at the two you held most dear and felt your heart swell with love and emotion.  

   Your son was the first to break the silence.

   "Do you think we could keep her?" he asked as he gently pulled away from his father. "She could be our mascot!"

   "Ah-ha, I don't think so, sweetie," you said firmly. "I'm sure she would be a lot happier on the surface where she has room to find food and make a home."    "Awwww," s/o whined in disappointment, "when is she going back then?"

   "Probably the sooner the better." Chrollo added, backing you up before s/n had a chance to ask him as well.

   "Can I show her to the others before she goes back outside?"

   Chrollo chuckled, "I don't see why not. Just be sure to carry her gently and don't shake her. You don't want to hurt her before we let her back outside."

   "Okay!" s/n said with excitement. He carefully picked up the plastic container and walked with precise hurried steps out of the room, eager to show his uncles that he hadn't been afraid of just nothing.

   As soon as s/n was out of ear shot you turned to your husband who was now standing beside you.

   "I'm not going to lie, had that thing snuck up on me while I was reading I probably would have screamed, too," you admitted with light laughter sounding in your words. Chrollo smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist bringing the two of you close.

   "How did something like that even get in here? The airducts, maybe?"

   "It's possible," Chrollo agreed, "I'll ask Shalnark to run a check on the ventilation system just in case."

   You stood on your tip toes and kissed his nose, "I'd appreciate that. Also, you might want to ask Shal and Fei how the hell they missed such a big spider when they came in here to check for intruders."  

   "When s/n jumped up and ran out of here screaming it probably startled her and she hid among all the stuffed toys," your husband made a gesture with his head to your son's mass collection. You looked down and realized that, even though the spider had been huge, she could have easily hid between some of the bigger plushies blocking her from view.

   "Good point," you chuckled, "Okay, one more question, 'Who's taking the spider top side?'"

   "Once s/n is done showing the others I'll take them all top side to let her go," your husband volunteered, "we won't go far just to release her."

   "He's getting better at recovering from scares like this," you observed. "But still... I worry about him..."

   "Of course you worry about him," Chrollo said softly, bringing his head down to now touch his marked forehead to yours, "you're his mother. I suspect you will worry for him one way or another for the rest of your life."

   "And what about you? Don't you worry about our son?" you asked in the same softness Chrollo was expressing.

   "Of course I do, y/n, he's my son. But, seeing how the two of us are, and what we survived to get here, I feel s/n is going to -"    "AAAHHHH!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" Phinks screamed, "WAS THAT IN YOUR ROOM!?!?! NO!! I DO NOT WANT A CLOSER LOOK!"

   Chrollo threw back his head and let out a genuine laugh. A laugh that made you smile and laugh along with him.

   "Hey! I can hear you two! Shut the hell up!" Phinks yelled, his voice cracking in embarrassment.

   His words made the two of you laugh even harder for several minutes.

   By the time you two had settled down and caught your breath there were tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. Chrollo looked down at you with a smile still on his face and gave you a long, warm, soft kiss right on the lips. It gave the moment an almost surreal feel to it.

   He was the first to break away from the kiss. Your husband chuckled as he swept some hair behind you ear with his finger tips.    "As I was saying, I think our son is going to be just fine."

[moonofthenight]

Skip a Beat

Ahhh I can’t believe we are almost done with this baby, it’s so much fun to write!!

Full masterlist here

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Credit for O’Knutzy goes to @lumosinlove

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Thank you for betaing this chapter @spookypotato <3

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CW mentions of beverages

Chapter Four

Finn stepped into the dance school, his bag thrown over his right shoulder. He has been racking his brain all morning and all the way to the studio. The bell above the door jingled and June looked up, immediately seeing that something was wrong.

“What’s with that face?” her voice was filled with so much tenderness and Finn stopped dead in his tracks.

“June,” he said almost desperately.

She was in front of him within seconds, looking him in the eyes, searching for any kind of sign of what was going on.

“Oh love, what happened? Come on, we still have some time before we open. Let’s make you some tea.”

She grabbed his hand, pulling him into the cosy staff room, taking Finn’s bag and pressing him down on the couch. Finn just pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, staring blankly at the door. June was worried, she hadn’t seen Finn like this, well, since he left New York and not knowing what was going on in his mind was driving her crazy, but she didn’t push.

They stayed silent; the only thing audible was the boiling water.

Another minute passed and June made her way over with two steaming mugs, handing one of them to Finn.

“There you go, now tell me what is going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Finn took a deep breath before he started talking.

“You know Leo and Logan? The two boys I am teaching right now?”

“Oh yeah, I remember the two. What about them?”

“Well, they invited me to dinner last night. Wanted to show me Sid’s, really good pizza I must say, but that is beside the point. They are a couple, you know, and I- fuck June. Ever since Leo stepped into my studio, all I could think about were his stupid beautiful eyes and his curls with his fucking grey streak.”

He let out a defeating sigh, putting his hands over his eyes.

June just started rubbing her hand over his back, sensing that, that was not all, but knowing better than to ask.

“That’s not even the worst part,” he mumbled carefully, his voice breaking at the end.

“I think- I think I’m starting to like Logan too.”

There. He said it.

“Is this normal? June, am I going crazy? I don’t know how to make it stop. It’s all so overwhelming,” Finn said on the verge of tears now, turning his head to look at his friend.

He looked at her so desperately it broke her heart.

“Hey, Finn, no. This is completely normal, okay? You have heard of polyamorous relationships; you know better than that. It’s not crazy Finn. You are just taught differently by society, but fuck society.”

He laughed a bit despite himself but he brought himself back to reality pretty quickly.

“But honestly, the chance that they would want that too equals zero.”

“You don’t know that.”

Finn looked at his lukewarm tea in his hand, taking a sip, leaning into his best friend.

“I think I need to be alone for a bit. I’ll be in the studio.”

June nodded and Finn got up, giving her a kiss on the cheek and grabbing his bag. He stepped into his studio opposite the staff room, inhaling deeply. Dance studios always had that kind of effect on him. It was like a sweet lullaby, calming him down, letting him escape for a bit. He connected his phone with the speakers, put on a song and just started, letting the emotions flow out of him.

He moved gracefully, connecting with every muscle, feeling his body and the floor beneath him, which helped him to sort out his thoughts. His feelings were like the ocean, he noticed. Leo was the flow and Logan the ebb, pulling him back and forth, churning him up. He reached a point where he wasn’t able to tell what he was doing, the music taking over his body, letting it move him, not the other way around. He danced out of muscle memory, turning and doing grand jetes with practiced ease.

And he danced and danced and danced.

He was sweating by the time the song ended but he felt better, so much better. It was going to be okay.

----

Leo and Logan arrived at the rink pretty early. Cap called for a bit of team bonding before the game tonight, which was important for the Lions to win, so it was no surprise when they were greeted by a whole bunch of hockey players.

“Knutty! Tremz! You arrived just in time; we were about to head onto the ice. Hurry up,” Remus called from the stall next to Sirius’, practically glowing.

It was still pretty new to see Remus in full gear and not his PT-jacket, but it was the best thing, honestly. He was an amazing player, falling in line with the others easily and he was a Lion long before, so it was obviously a given that the team would welcome him with open arms.

Leo and Logan changed in no time, following the others, enjoying the familiar feeling of blades scratching the ice. Leo skated a few circles around his goal, stretching and preparing his zone for the little game.

They played for a good hour, including lots of laughing, hugs and a heartwarming speech from the captain. Sirius had been in a really good mood recently, in a better one than usually, which probably has something to do with the ring that was glistening on his finger. He never passed a chance to show it off.

Logan was reaching for the Gatorade, when he saw his phone flashing. He jumped over the boards to check who send the message, a smile subconsciously making its way onto his face.

Can I come to the rink for the game tonight or is it too last minute?

“What are you smiling at, sweetheart?” a familiar voice asked form behind him.

“Finn asks if he can come to the game tonight,” Logan said, showing Leo the message, who just smiled knowingly in return.

“Cap,” Leo shouted, turning around “do we have a place in the lounge for tonight?”

“Sure thing,” Sirius shouted back, wanting to ask more questions but deciding against it.

Time flew by. Suddenly the game was only an hour away and Logan was currently waiting at the entrance for Finn to arrive. He didn’t have to wait long before a familiar redhead appeared in front of him, pulling the shorter boy into a hug. Logan noticed that Finn could rest his cheek against his head if he wanted to and suddenly, he realised that his heart was beating faster at the thought of getting to hold Finn longer than what would be ‘normal’.

What was happening?!

He didn’t have the time to think about it because Finn was already pulling away.

“Thank you for picking me up, I think I would be a bit lost otherwise.”

“Don’t mention it Harz, let’s go, I need to be on the ice soon.”

Logan grabbed Finn’s hand, ignoring the tickling sensation caused by it, and pulled him through the mass of people, to the stairs that would bring them to the lounge.

“Here is your ticket, you just have to walk up the stairs now. Drinks and food are for free, so, enjoy yourself. I’ll pick you up again after the game, just stay upstairs,” Logan explained as he pulled out the small piece of paper, giving it to Finn.

On his way back, Logan got into full on game mode, falling into a familiar rhythm with the team, stretching and focusing on winning against the opponent.

Both, Leo and Logan hadn’t played this good since the start of the season. Leo got a shutout, saving every single shot from the Snakes while Logan assisted Sirius with two out of his three goals.

A pair of brown eyes followed every movement from above, going wide with every hit, shining with every celebration.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Explanations ~ A Gordon Bombay Oneshot

A/N: So, I'm very much on a mighty ducks kick lately. I've got a chadam fic in the works, but this one came to me after watching episode 10. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Bombay has a lot to think about after states. And an unexpected visit helps out.

Characters/Relationships: Gordon Bombay, Charlie Conway, Charlie x Adam (mentioned)

Warning: slight language, mentions of cancer, and alcoholism, no deaths though

Word count: 1042

It was early evening when the bus pulled up in front of the Ice Palace.

After he had waved off all of the kids, Gordon made his way inside to his small apartment upstairs.

He was proud of the Don’t Bothers. They had made the right choice for the team. They’d looked out for each other. They reminded him so much of the Ducks – the real Ducks. And hopefully they’d be able to reclaim that name in the morning.

After grabbing the bottle of OJ, he stared up at the framed newspaper articles next to his fridge.

The Minnesota Miracle Man.

He scoffed at the thought. He hadn’t been that man for a long time. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure he ever really had been.

He’d told Charlie once that he’d given him a life. And it was true. He owed everything to Charlie and the Ducks. Which is why it was so hard for him to face them… him after what happened with the NCAA.

Don’t tell me Charlie was right.

Fulton’s words rang in his ears.

Charlie was usually right. And he knew it.

Gordon hadn’t been showing up for his team – his family. But it was never because he didn’t care. He’d known that he’d let Charlie down in more ways than one in recent years, and this time he just didn’t feel like he could make it up to him. But seeing the way the Don’t Bothers rallied for Sofi, gave him hope. His team had always done it, maybe they’d give him one last chance.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Assuming it was Alex or Evan, he didn’t bother checking the door before opening it. So when it swung open to reveal none other than Charlie Conway, Gordon’s jaw dropped.

“Charlie? What are you doing here?”

The younger man’s expression was tense and he held a large cardboard box in his arms. “Heard what happened with your new team this morning.”

There was less bitterness in his tone than expected.

“And that you’ve got a grudge match with the cake-eater mighty duck wannabes in the morning,” he added with a smirk. “You gonna let me in or what?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

The coach took a step back and gestured for him to come in. Charlie dropped the box on rickety kitchen table and surveyed the room.

“Banksy was right. You are a mess,” he finally declared, leaning on the table in front of the box and crossing his arms.

Charlie had managed to pick up Hans’ straightforwardness. It was unsettling.

“Did you come all this way just to harass me?” Gordon asked.

The former captain looked unimpressed. “All this way? I live 15 minutes away. You’d know that if you hadn’t dropped off the face of the Earth after the shit you pulled to get kicked out of the NCAA.”

“And what do you know about that?” he challenged, bristling at Charlie’s bluntness.

“You broke the rules trying to do a good thing and it bit you in the ass. Like always. Jury’s still out on whether it was for the right reasons. Care to give me your side?”

When the older man simply stared, Charlie stared back. He knew this game, and to be honest Charlie was better.

Finally Gordon sighed.

“There was a high school kid. He was a good player and he was a good kid. He was a smart kid. He wanted to go straight the draft, take his chances at signing a contract. Help his family out more. I wanted to help him out. I wanted him to have a future after the NHL. So I helped out his family, made them comfortable enough that he’d be able to go to college. I got busted.”

“So it wasn’t about winning?”

Gordon sighed and sank into the chair somewhat stiffly with his knee.

“No. It was about him. It was the same reason I lobbied Eden Hall for the scholarships. I wanted a good kid who’d been dealt a bad hand a chance. Hockey isn’t forever, and he had a chance at building something real.”

Charlie shook his head, running his tongue along his teeth before speaking. “You always were a bleeding heart underneath it all. But that still doesn’t explain why you dropped off the map afterwards.”

Gordon took a chip out of his pocket and flipped it over to Charlie.

1 Year.

“It got bad. And by the time I came out of it, and I heard the news about your mom I just thought it would be too little too late.”

“Better late than never,” Charlie hummed.

“I can see that now. How’s your mom doing by the way?”

“Better. She’s in remission now.”

Gordon nodded, more to himself than anything. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it got tough.”

The former captain sighed and shook his head.

“That sucked. But honestly it’s always bothered me more that you weren’t there for the good stuff. The wedding. The kids. The Ducks growing up.”

“I regret it. I wish I’d been with you to celebrate. Connie and Guy. You and Adam.”

Charlie arched an eyebrow. “So you did know.”

Gordon chuckled in spite of himself. “I did. I was glad you two figured it out. You deserve each other.”

“Thanks, coach.” The title was accompanied by a small smile. “It really is never too late. The Ducks miss you, and since the whole Spirit of the Ducks thing was a bust we’re planning our own reunion at the end of the month. Are you in?”

“Name the time and place. I’ll be there,” Gordon assured him.

“Good. Now about that grudge match.”

“It’s just a friendly game with a little wager.”

The younger man snorted. “They always are. Anyway,” Charlie turned and pulled the flap on the box he’d brought. “We thought you could use these. Remind everyone in this town how the Ducks really fly.”

“You still have all of these?”

“Yep, everyone has their own, but over time we’ve ended up with a full set. The team sends them with a message.”

Bombay smirked as he touched the familiar green fabric. “Let me guess, Quack?”

“Quack,” Charlie grinned.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed!

[jalapeno-princess]

I Told You To Never Fall In Love With Me

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Genre: Angst, fluff, mentions of sex (Oh and if you stan Jinyoung, this story isn’t for you)

Summary: As a college student, you vowed to yourself that you would never get involved with the college night life. Partying, getting drunk on cheep alcohol and getting high on drugs was a big no in your book. But what if the toxic drug you end up getting addicted to isn’t a substance but a person? 

A/N: Hey guys! I started writing this story around two months ago but I didn’t have the motivation to continue it until like two nights ago so here it is! Based on the song “Don’t make it harder on me” By Chloe and Halle! Highly recommend that you listen to it before or while reading. Please enjoy!!

“Uh, Y/n—would you care to explain why Mark Tuan is looking at you as if he’s undressing you with his eyes? He’s looking at you like he’s a predator ready to pounce and you’re his prey. Is there something I’m missing out on here?” 

Your best friend’s words both annoyed you, yet sent fire to your bones. It was tempting—the thought of turning around and witnessing for yourself what he claimed was Mark gazing at you so endearingly and in a sexual way even. However, Mark Tuan was nothing but danger. He was a drug you were addicted to for longer than you’d like to admit—but you finally came to the realization less than a month ago that you deserved so much better than the boy in question. 

The high you got from sneaking and fooling around with Mark faded the second you found out he wasn’t who you thought he was—who you thought he was changing in to; in order to be better for you. You let out a scoff before rolling your eyes at the thought of him indirectly trying to get your attention. What you and Mark had was a secret nobody knew other than the two of you. That was the agreement from the beginning of whatever it was that went on between you and Mark—it was his idea in the first place, you should have known he wasn’t serious about you if he was adamant on hiding your relationship from everyone. 

“Just ignore him Youngjae. You’ll only add on to his big ass ego and God knows that’s the last thing anyone needs. There’s nothing going on between him and I. Well, not anymore.” 

The last sentence came out a whisper—you didn’t want to lie to him; you and Youngjae told everything to each other. In fact, you knew the older boy better than you knew yourself. He was the younger brother—well, two months younger—that you never had but always wanted. He was extremely loyal to you, he was a great shoulder to cry on and an even better listener. You were dying to tell anyone about Mark—especially when you realized what you were feeling for him was going past the agreement you made with him, but you didn’t want word to spread throughout school about your little affair. 

Although you were well aware that Youngjae would never say or do anything to hurt you or get you in to any kind of trouble, you felt like this was something you had to keep to yourself. By the look of confusion on his face and the way he kept opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something but closing it ultimately, you figured that he probably had a feeling that you weren’t telling him the entire truth. Thankfully, he didn’t pry to get you to confess as to why you harbored ill-feelings for Mark—that wasn’t who he was. After six years of friendship, Youngjae was able to depict when the right time was to ask you what was wrong and when he should keep his questions to himself. Unfortunately, his eyes widened in shock and it made your skin crawl when you noticed that his attention was no longer on you. 

“Oh, well—um—I hate to say this y/n, but he’s coming over right now.” You could feel your heart rate increase rapidly at his words. What was he thinking? He had to be high right now; there was no way he was going to let anyone else on campus know he was affiliated with you in some way. Both you and Mark came from two different classes on the social pyramid; he was your typical college jock—popular, outgoing and devastatingly good looking. You on the other hand considered yourself a wallflower. 

Unlike Mark, you enjoyed keeping to yourself and your small group of friends. You weren’t living the college experience he and his friends were. College parties were a big no to you—you hated alcohol, smoking and loud, shitty music with all these sweaty bodies dancing up against one another. It wasn’t your scene—yet it was all Mark ever seemed to do on his Friday nights; especially since he was the one who coordinated most of the parties. 

The two of you were an unlikely pair, but then again, opposites attract and you despised that they did. Honestly to this day you weren’t even sure how you both stumbled in to each other’s lives. You had Mark in one of your classes last semester and you made sure to stay the hell away from him. He was the definition of a flirt—he had to be the biggest player on campus and that said a lot. Matter of a fact, his entire group of friends were notorious for sleeping around with anyone and everyone. 

Rumor around your university was that they threw parties every weekend with the desire of bedding someone during or after the party was over. You found it ridiculous that they would use these girls for one thing and one thing only—sex. You had to give them credit though; Mark, Jaebeom, Jackson and BamBam made it their duty to tell each girl they were planning to be intimate with what their plans were. They never fucked the same girl twice, that’s just how it was. Well—that’s how it was for Mark until that fateful night the two of you stumbled to bed together for the first time of many. 

What started off as a study session with you sitting practically three tables away from Mark ended up with him fucking you—rearranging your guts and blowing your back out up against his refrigerator. As much as you wanted to say you regretted hooking up with him and that having sex with Mark was a brief lapse of judgement on your part, deep down in your heart, you knew you could never regret Mark. 

At one point—he was all you wanted for as long as you could have him. As long as he allowed you to have him. To your dismay, he decided he didn’t want to continue giving himself to you for longer than what was necessary. For the last week, he’s been trying to get in touch with you. You found it extremely weird; he was the one who ended up breaking your trust and ruining everything, so you had a hard time understanding why he began to text and call you—even showing up to your classes once you were done in the hopes that you would listen to what he had to say. 

You were really good with ignoring him so far—you let every single call and message go unread and straight to voicemail. He needed to know that you no longer wanted anything to do with him; a decision you should have made a long time ago. Before he could have gained your trust and respect only to make you look like a fool for believing that he was going to give up his fuckboy mentality to settle down and start a relationship with you. Silly you for thinking that Mark Tuan could ever look at you as more than a place to bury his dick. You began to mentally prepare yourself for his actions or what he would say once he got to where you and Youngjae were sitting. 

A part of you wanted to pick up your food and walk away—but that would only make you look bad and if anything, Mark would be led to believe that there was a chance you still had feelings for him. If he were to see the effect that just the mere thought of him was currently having on you, you knew he wouldn’t let you live it down. 

“Hey Youngjae, how are you?” It’s been three and a half weeks since you left him naked and painfully hard at his apartment. You could still remember the night like it was yesterday, although—you’ve been trying to push the memory to the back of your mind as much as you could. Every time you began to think about how you found a pair of lingerie in Mark’s drawer that didn’t belong to you, you wanted to throw up. The thought of him sleeping with someone else while the two of you had this pathetic excuse of a friends with benefits situation made you sick to your stomach. 

Sure, you knew exactly what you were getting yourself in to when you agreed to having no strings attached, but then again—you weren’t planning on falling in love with him the way you found yourself doing in less than a month after your first hook up. Friends with benefits affairs were tricky—most people assumed it was just sex between two consenting adults; they both got what they wanted out of the relationship—mind blowing sex without all the unnecessary drama that comes with a romantic relationship. However, it’s easier said than done. One of the partners always ends up falling for the other whether they liked it or not and in most cases, their love is unrequited and unfortunately, you were one of the unlucky ones. 

Mark Tuan could never be tied down—you were crazy to think that one day, he would give up his playing ways to be with you. But at the same time, you weren’t exactly out of your mind. There was a point in your agreement that Mark started acting clingier and touchier towards you—during times where you weren’t being intimate. It was as if he always needed to be touching you in some way. 

He always had to be holding your hand, he’d throw his arm over your shoulder while you’d watch a movie, he’d wrap his arms around your waist and place his chin on your head if you were cooking and he’d run his fingers through your hair as you would lie down together. Mark began staying over after the two of you were to reach your orgasms—something that was considerably taboo for people who were simply just “fucking”. He would wake up early to make you breakfast, he’d send you comforting text messages if you had a rough day at either work or school, he’d stay up to help you with homework so your work load wasn’t too much for you to carry, he started to buy you things that he thought you’d like and unlike most people in friends with benefits relationships, right after you’d finish having your way with one another, you and Mark would talk for hours about whatever it was that your hearts desired. 

If he didn’t want anything romantic to come out of your relationship, then why was he allowing himself to do all of these things with you that only legitimate couples would do. Did he not think that calling you in the middle of the night because you weren’t able to see each other went past the boundaries that he set up when you began your little rendezvous? Did he not find it weird that the two of you were acting like a couple—kissing you before he would leave your house, joining you on your FaceTime calls with your mom, blow drying your hair for you after you took a shower and preparing lunch for you before you went to school—did friends with benefits do things like that? 

You knew you meant a lot more to Mark than he was letting on, even more so when he began trying to get you to talk to him. If what the two of you had was simply a sexual relationship, why was he still trying to get you to hear him out? He could have sex with anybody; in fact, you would have thought that this is what he wanted. Having sex with the same person if you weren’t in a relationship with them was something Mark was obviously not used to. The two of you weren’t exclusive, but two things you asked for was honesty and loyalty. 

As much as you wanted to lie and tell yourself that you didn’t want him sleeping with anyone other than you for sanitary reasons, you were well aware that you’d be completely crushed if you were to find out that he was giving himself to other women while you were only allowing him to have you. It didn’t take long for you to realize that you had feelings for him—it took you even a shorter amount of time to realize that what you felt for him was love. Once you realized that you were in love with Mark, there was nothing more you wanted than to tell him—you were starting to believe that he also felt the same way about you. But then again, there were so many doubts clouding your mind. What if he were to end things with you because you broke one of the rules—no feelings. 

What if he was only acting so affectionate towards you because he thought it was the only way to keep you around? You felt pathetic and you hated that you were letting yourself go through all of this suffering for a man who probably couldn’t give less of a shit about you other than when you were riding him—bouncing on his cock like you were made to do so. When did you allow someone—anyone—specifically an asshole like Mark Tuan; the sole person you made a pact with yourself that you’d never get involved with—play with your heart like it was some kind of toy? Why did you allow him in to your walls that you’ve set so high—meant for someone who genuinely cared about you—wanted you for you and not just for your body? 

Youngjae’s eyes widened at the greeting. He must have been in shock, he’s never heard Mark say anything to him before, let alone call him by his name as if they were well acquainted with each other. Not only did you and Mark come from two completely different worlds, but your friends never associated with Mark’s friends or anyone like them. So you had a feeling with the way Youngjae looked as though he saw a ghost, he was taken a back by Mark’s sudden hospitality. You on the other hand did not buy it at all; you knew he was going to try and coerce Youngjae in to leaving so that he could finally talk to you but there was no way in hell that you were going to allow such a thing to happen. Mark Tuan was in your past and you had every intent on leaving him there. 

“H—hi Mark. What can we do for you?” 

You had to stifle a laugh at the shakiness in the younger boy’s voice. Youngjae was a very shy and soft-spoken kind of person. He was evidently intimidated by people like Mark which is why you mentally cursed him knowing that he would probably do whatever the older boy asked of him. 

“I um—I was wondering if maybe I could talk to y/n?” 

Watching him scratch the back of his neck while looking at your friend timidly made your skin crawl. Why was he acting so shy and flustered? It had to be a tactic of his. He wanted Youngjae to go along with it and the only way he knew he could get him to leave was by acting kind towards him. You wanted to laugh in hysterics—was he really acting like he was innocent and had pure intentions with wanting to speak with you? Who the hell was this man and what did he do to the cocky prick who wasted almost five months of your life for his selfish needs? Youngjae looked at you to see how you were reacting to their conversation and he frowned when he saw you furrow your brows at him before turning to Mark and groaning. 

“Why are you asking him? You act as if I want to talk to you. New flash asshole, I have nothing to say to you nor do I want to hear you out so if you know what’s best for you, you’d go back to your table of friends who I’m sure is having a hard time processing your presence at our table right now.” 

If looks could kill, Youngjae was sure Mark would be six feet under right now. You were sending daggers to the back of Mark’s head and if you weren’t in the middle of the cafeteria, Youngjae knew you would probably do something to inflict any kind of pain on him. 

“Y/n, you and I both know we have unfinished business to go over and unless you want everyone in this cafeteria to know what I want to say, then I suggest you and I go somewhere else—“

“I’m sorry y/n—I forgot, I actually have to go meet one of my professors to talk about my grade. I’ll call you later. Bye!” 

It was your turn to widen your eyes in surprise. How dare he leave you knowing that you wanted nothing to do with Mark. What kind of friend was he? He might have not known about your dalliance with the junior fuckboy, but couldn’t he tell by your body language that you were uncomfortable and seething with anger? After he grabbed his books and gave you a gentle wave, he made his way outside—leaving you alone with the devil himself. 

You didn’t allow Youngjae’s decision to succumb to Mark’s request affect the way that you were going to go about things. Just because the two of you were alone now didn’t mean anything; you meant what you said when you told him you had no intention of listening to what he was seemingly dying to tell you. You started to collect your things—not batting an eye at him while putting all your trash in a paper bag. 

“Come on y/n, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks now. You’ve been avoiding me. Do my efforts of trying to fix things mean nothing to you—“

“Don’t start that shit with me. I’m surprised you’re even talking to me right now in front of all these students—in front of your fuckboy friends. Effort to fix what Mark? There’s nothing for you to fix. What you and I had is over, why are you even trying anymore? It’s obvious that I was just a convenient fuck to you and it took me weeks to come to accept this, but I deserve so much better than you. Give up already—“ 

Seeing a tear fall from the brim of his eyelids was the last thing you expected to see, but watching Mark cry wasn’t foreign territory to you. The older boy was a very emotional and over-sensitive person. It was a trait of his that you’ve grown fond over—not a lot of men were comfortable enough to show their fragile side to just anyone, but Mark wasn’t afraid to find solace in you whenever he had a problem or needed to let out some pent up anger. Whenever he would vent to you about school, work or even family problems, you’d feel pretty special knowing that you were probably one of the few people if not the only person he would confess all of his doubts, worries and insecurities to you. 

It felt really good knowing that he trusted you but it only confused you so much more. You wouldn’t tell somebody you considered a casual hookup all of your biggest fears or the dreams you had for after you were to graduate would you? Mark seemed to have no problem admitting all this information to you—he was an open book when the two of you were alone. You could confidently say you knew every single thing about the older boy and it was a bittersweet feeling. You were shocked to see him showing any kind of emotion in the public—especially because of you. 

Deep down, you could tell it took a lot of courage for him to do something completely out of his comfort zone. It had to mean something right? Thinking about how he hurt you, how he broke your trust on top of breaking your heart and ruining your entire aspect on love and relationships, you wanted to continue giving him the cold shoulder—but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be so hostile. Humiliating him in front of all these people who admired him and thought he was the coolest person on campus would definitely feel rewarding. However, that wasn’t who you were—you wanted nothing more than to break him the way he did so easily to you, but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing that you turned in to somewhat of a monster just to get back at him. You knew better than that. 

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea, I’m already seeing someone else. Unlike you, I care if my actions hurt others and I don’t think he’d be all too happy if he found out I went to go talk to you somewhere private. If all you’re looking for is forgiveness, then we can talk right here. But knowing you, there’s a possibility you want something out of our conversation. So apologize and leave before I scream.” 

You should have known Mark’s moment of sadness wasn’t going to last long. As soon as the last sentence came out, he gave you a mischievous smirk—it didn’t take a genius to know what his next few words were going to be nor could you say you were shocked. You’ve known Mark for long enough to have an idea how he was going to respond. 

“You and I both know I wouldn’t mind that at all. Don’t lie, you love it when I make you scream—“

You released an irritated sigh before roughly picking up your bag and the rest of your items. “That’s it, you lost your chance, I’m leaving.” 

With all the energy you had left from how exhausting this entire day had been, you stormed out of the cafeteria and began walking—to where, you had no idea. All you could think about was getting as far away from Mark as you possibly could. Every minute he stayed in your presence only annoyed you yet excited you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he was still following behind you. 

If he claimed that he really needed to explain himself, then he shouldn’t quit while he was still ahead. But why were you allowing this? What you told him about having a new man in your life was the truth. You didn’t want to be that girl. The one who jumped in to a relationship right after she had her heart broken. Although you couldn’t care less about what people said about you, you didn’t want anyone to look at you as desperate or easy. It wasn’t as if you just started dating the first person you saw—you had a thing for Jinyoung for quite some time now. Even before you and Mark began your fling. However, neither of you said anything about liking one another. 

You had a hunch that he might have felt something for you by the way you would catch him staring at you every now and then in biology and with how he would always greet you every morning although you weren’t very familiar with each other. Jinyoung was extremely intelligent; he had one of the highest grades in the class, he was also gentle, soft-spoken and very easy on the eyes. In fact, he and Mark probably had to be the two most good looking men you have ever laid your eyes on. But Jinyoung was genuinely nice to you. He made it known that he cared about you and had nothing but good intentions. He adored you and admired you in the way you could only dream of Mark doing for you. 

No matter how much Jinyoung treated you like the most fragile piece of glass—the most delicate flower and even if he put you on this high pedestal only two weeks after you started going out, you couldn’t stop wanting it to be Mark in his place. Hearing loud footsteps behind you only heightened your desire to get as far away from him as you possibly could. At this point—you were genuinely afraid of giving him what he wanted. You were afraid of doing something you would ultimately regret later. Mark just had that power over you—you could try your best to move on from him and force yourself to return Jinyoung’s feelings that he never failed to remind you he held, but you couldn’t do it. Not when Mark took up the entirety of your thought process; your heart, mind, body, spirit and soul belonged to him. 

The sudden tight grip on your wrist startled you, but you didn’t flinch. You knew exactly who it was and you surprised both yourself and Mark when you allowed him to pull you towards where you knew he was taking you. There was no point in fighting him off—you didn’t want to stir up any attention from passerby’s. When he realized you gave up on trying to leave, he loosened his grip and his tugging wasn’t as rough. The two of you stayed in silence as he led you to a very familiar area—one that was dangerous territory for you. You should be trying harder to escape from his hold; especially because you were well aware once the two of you were to enter the room he was taking you to, there was a chance you would give in to him and end up ruining the relationship that was building between you and Jinyoung. 

Once you both made it to the janitor’s closet, he pulled out a key and opened it, allowing you to go inside before trailing right behind you. Till this day you were still confused as to how he had access to this room, but you weren’t surprised. Being who he was, you were sure he had many connections all over campus. You took in a deep breath while your eyes wandered all throughout the room—it was small, about the size of a closet and there was multiple cleaning supplies on the ground and on shelves. There was also a table in the center—one that you’ve been pressed up against for more times that you could count on your fingers. 

Mark told you that no janitor ever used that closet and so the two of you made it your little secret hideaway where you would help each other destress from a long day of classes. Images of him ramming himself inside of you, pressing you in to the table as he ate you out like a wild animal would with their prey and going down on your knees to suck him dry were now filling your mind. It was in that moment that you began to feel remorseful. You had such a wonderful man who treated you in ways you didn’t even feel like you deserved. 

You’ve wanted him for such a long time—so why were you putting your relationship on the line for the pitiful man standing in front of you who only used you to soothe his carnal urges? You refused to face him; you were afraid of what might happen if you did turn around to see the expression he was wearing. The silence that was filling the room was suffocating. He was the one who said that he wanted to talk, yet no words were coming out of his mouth. It didn’t take long for questions to pop up in your mind—you might not have wanted to talk to him in the beginning but now you were filled with curiosity. 

“You brought me here for a reason. I don’t plan on staying long, so hurry up and say what you want to say.”

“All I need is five minutes—“

“That’s not surprising—it’s obviously a time limit you’re used to.” 

You chuckled softly to yourself at your comment. Sometimes when you’d give him head, he’d end up releasing his load on to your mouth in less than five minutes. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but it did at fuel to your confidence—you were just that good. You wouldn’t be taken back if you were to hear that your blowjobs were the reason why he came running back to you. The growl that came from the back of his throat sent chills down your spine—he may have never said it out loud to protect his reputation, but Mark was a very jealous person. 

Anytime you would bring up another guy in conversation, whether it was a friend from high school or one of your coworkers, he’d grow silent and touchier. He’d also go rougher on you in bed—one time he got so jealous he ended up breaking his headboard because his pace was relentless. That thought alone sent a warm pool between your thighs. Your body was reacting to his presence and the many memories of being one with him and it only made you want to leave without hearing him out. 

“I’m sorry.” Y

ou scoffed at his apology—he sounded so insincere. Like a child who was only apologizing to someone because their mother told them to. What was the point of giving you an apology if he didn’t mean it? You turned around to look at him and lifted your brows in disbelief. He didn’t allow you to respond—he must have known you were going to give him a sarcastic comment and knowing him, he didn’t like it whenever you interrupted him in a confronting time like this. 

“I know, my sorries probably mean jack shit to you but I am genuinely so fucking sorry. When you left that night, I wanted to go after you so badly but I didn’t want to make you even more mad. I didn’t have a clue as to why you grew so upset all of a sudden. We were having such a good time—both so close to our highs, but then you just stopped out of nowhere and began to tear up before taking your things and leaving. I want to know why—why did you leave? What bothered you so badly that you felt like you had to leave and start over with someone new? What did I do y/n—“ 

You didn’t mean to laugh, but it was your defense mechanism. Did he really have no clue as to why you no verbally ended your affair or was he just acting dumb on purpose? 

“You’re kidding right? You can’t be serious. That’s a fucking joke. You know exactly what you did Mark. Don’t play the fucking victim—“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! That’s why I’m asking—“

“YOU FUCKED ANOTHER WOMAN MARK. DO YOU THINK I’M STUPID? DO YOU THINK I WAS BORN YESTERDAY? When you were in the bathroom, I went to grab something from your drawer and I found a thong that obviously does not belong to me. Care to explain that? I stayed up for the rest of that week thinking about how you were fucking someone else while you were fucking me. I know I have no right to tell you how to live your life, but I’m involved Mark. We promised we’d only sleep around with one another. You’re the one that said we had to tell each other if we wanted to start seeing other people but you didn’t say shit Mark. What? Did you get tired of being monogamous? One pussy wasn’t enough for you huh? Had to keep up with the body count of your other jerk ass friends? You didn’t want them finding out that you were fucking with the same girl for months—you didn’t want to look pathetic in their eyes if they found out you weren’t this big macho man everything thinks you are. So what is it Mark? Is this some kind of game to you? Am I just a fucking toy to you? You know I’d do anything for you and that I’d allow you to do whatever you want to as long as you’re in my bed at the end of the day. It doesn’t fucking work like that—“

“I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU DAMNIT. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you this the moment I came to terms with my feelings for you, but I did. Fuck, that’s an understand. I’m so fucking in love with you. I’m well aware you probably don’t believe me, but I love you y/n and if I had the choice, I’d go back in time and change the way things turned out. God I want nothing more than to fix us. I miss you so much—there aren’t even enough words in the English dictionary for me to describe how empty and lost I felt without you. I couldn’t even fathom what you meant to me and how much I needed you in my life until you were no longer in it.” He loved you? There was no way. Mark Tuan wasn’t capable of loving someone other than himself. He definitely did not love you. 

“Does it not bother you how good you are at lying? You should try and take acting classes. You almost had me fooled. You? In love? Don’t make me laugh. You wouldn’t know what love was even if it punched you in the face. You don’t love me. You love my body. You love the way I feel—you love how your dick feels inside of me. You love how I am willing to experiment during sex just to please you. You love knowing that you can control me the way you do. So get that stupid thought out of your head. If you genuinely loved me—you would have never fucked another woman. The thought of hurting me would have killed you. What? Was I at work or in school and you couldn’t wait two hours do get your dick wet? Did you think I would be okay with you sleeping with someone else and entering me knowing that your cock was buried in another woman’s cunt? I’m not like all the other girls who would let you hookup with someone else if it meant having you in any way possible. That’s not who I am Mark. I love and respect myself too much to let an asshole like you do such a thing to me.” 

Tears began to brim at his eyelids again, but you weren’t going to fall for it. He did you wrong—he had no right to try and get you to feel sorry for him. Did he really think that confessing his love for you was going to get you to leave Jinyoung in order to be with him again? If that was the case, he had another thing coming for him. 

“She was a mistake. A huge mistake. I was drunk—I know—don’t look at me like that, I’m not using it as an excuse. I’m just telling you. I didn’t even realize what was going on—I was that cross faded. Hell, I don’t even have any idea how we got back to my apartment nor do I remember meeting her. If I’m being honest with you, I don’t remember what she looks like nor did I even learn her name. Trust me, I felt so fucking mad at myself when I woke up next to her and I didn’t even care if I was rude, I kicked her out once I came to my senses. That’s why I stayed away from you for three days that one week back in May. I didn’t have any final to study for—that was a lie. But I couldn’t look at you without feeling guilty. I hated myself for what I did. You and I weren’t dating, but I felt as if I cheated on you which in hindsight, I kind of did. I was already in love with you at that point—hell, I began falling for you only three weeks after we started hooking up. You’re right. I do love your body. Your body is a wonderland and I lose my damn mind every time I get to love on you. But I love you for more than just your body. I love you for your mind—your deeply intelligent and witty mind. I love you for your kindness, your patience, generosity, your determination and passion towards the things that you love. I love the person you’ve changed me into and I love who I am when I’m with you. I love the way you never fail to make me laugh and smile. I love the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.” 

He began to walk toward you but you were too busy soaking up each and every single word he was emitting. You didn’t realize just how close he was in proximity until he brushed some of your hair back behind your ear. 

“I love waking up to you in the morning and going to bed with you in my arms. I love watching your many attempts at trying out a recipe you found online and ultimately failing because you added either too much salt and pepper or not enough. I love how happy you make me and how safe I feel when I’m with you. You make me want to be a better version of myself so that I can be good enough for you. Sure, the sex is so amazing—it’s breathtaking—mind blowing. Sex with you is a wonderful experience, but I’m not sticking around just to fuck you. I was hooking up with all these different girls before I met you and none of them meant anything to me. You on the other hand mean the entire world and more to me. Don’t even get me started on how fucking beautiful you are. I can never find it in myself to tear my eyes away from you—you’re so captivating you know that? I could stare at you all day—well, I can do a lot of things with you for the entire day—but you are both so beautiful on the inside and out y/n. I think this is the part where I tell you why I got so drunk and high that night.” 

He released a frustrated sigh before bringing his head between his hands. You were still so lost—his confession was bringing you to the edge of insanity. Each word tugged harshly on your heartstrings and you began to absorb everything he was admitting so freely. Deep down, you knew he wasn’t lying and that’s what you were afraid of. 

“Jackson’s dumb ass brought you up in a conversation when we began to play beer pong. I didn’t even know that he knew of your existence, but then he began to talk about you so provocatively and in such a degrading way. He talked about how sexy he though you were and how he wanted to fuck you. That was the first time I’ve ever felt so angry to the point where I was afraid that blood was going to be shed. I could feel my hand that was gripping on the ping pong ready to fling the damn thing at his face. Not only did I hate how he talked about you and described his many desires of what he wanted to do to you—but our other friends chimed in about which one of them would be the lucky guy who got to sleep with you like it was a fucking challenge. They might be my friends, yet I was seconds away from giving them all black eyes—but I didn’t want them to know about us. So I just kept drinking and I went up to one of the rooms some football players were smoking weed in and I took five hits. I was also having a hard time accepting that I loved you—“

“Why? What was so hard about coming to the acceptance that you were in love with me? Did you realize that there are a lot more other girls out there and you wanted to keep your options open? Or did you notice that I didn’t fit in with your friends and you were afraid that they wouldn’t be as accepting of me? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

“I was scared. I told you all about my parents—how I believed that they had a love for the ages and that they were going to be together for the rest of their lives. But I was too young to notice that they were actually going through a really rough time. I found out that they weren’t happy in their marriage when I was seventeen years old and that they were only staying together for my siblings and I. My dad—he actually began having an affair with one of his coworkers, but could it really be considered an affair when my parents were no longer theoretically together? They finally got a divorce a little over two years ago and I mean—they’re happier I guess. But my siblings and I—it still bothers us. Like, we’re still so affected by their separation and it’s been years. I vowed to myself that I would never fall in love with anyone. I didn’t want to experience the heartbreak that came with falling out of love. I didn’t want to give myself—my whole self to someone, fall in love with them, do all these romantic and domestics things with them, get used to having them around and always wanting to be with them only for shit to hit the fan and end up hating that person or being hated by that person. Then you came in to my life—someone who I would have never thought would mean this much to me. But you do. You always will. I don’t remember exactly when I started to love you—but I don’t regret it at all—and I’m not scared anymore. I was fucking devastated when you left—I knew it was over and it was the most painful and gut wrenching feeling I have ever felt in my entire life.” 

The more he talked, the more you began to wish he would stop or that he didn’t even open his mouth in the first place. You remembered the night where the two of you were lying down in bed, watching tv and then he got a call from his dad. He excused himself for a few minutes—leaving you alone with a strange legend episode of unsolved mysteries. It wasn’t that you wanted to eavesdrop, but you could hear his voice raise from the other room. Whatever he was talking about with his dad must have really struck a nerve with him because he was in tears when he came back to you. Instead of returning back to the show or taking his leave—he fell apart in to your arms and told you everything. 

He bared his entire soul to you and you found yourself crying at how broken he was and how distraught his conversation with his father left him. From that night on, you made a vow to yourself to make sure he was always happy whenever he was with you. You didn’t want to be a reason behind his sadness—even if he was the sole reason of yours. 

“You should have known I would never have done anything to hurt you Mark. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on to my feelings seeing as how open I was with them. It’s like I had “I love you Mark Tuan” written on my fucking forehead like a pathetic idiot. I sacrificed so many things for you, I had to keep us a secret because that’s what you asked for but it made me feel like you were ashamed of me. I don’t believe in being friends with benefits—whoever thought that shit up needs a slap in the face. Friends could never just have sex—one always falls in love and that’s the same one who gets their heart broken. Me. Every time you would glance at me in the hallway and look away as if you had no idea who I was—it fucking sucked Mark. What person in their right minds would allow someone to do this to them? I only do relationships—I’m an exclusive type of person but I pushed away all my beliefs just to be with you. I loved you Mark Tuan. More than I have ever loved anyone else—more than I loved myself and it scared me, but I didn’t run away. I didn’t go and fuck someone else because I was afraid of feelings. I could never do that to you. I don’t give a shit that you were high and don’t remember a thing—you still did it and it still haunts me to this day. I’m sorry—I really don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry about your parents and I’m sorry that their divorce is affecting the way you look at your love life—but why do I have to be punished? Why is my heart on the line for something that doesn’t involve me? It’s not fair Mark.” 

His hands were gentle against both sides of your cheeks. He bore his eyes in to yours—but you refused to make eye contact. Your vision was blurry; filled with tears and sadness. Sadness because he hurt you—but also because you were now accepting that you were still so madly in love with the man in front of you. You absentmindedly leaned against his palm but continued to keep your gaze away from him. 

“Y/n—I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I really am so sorry. If I knew then what I knew now, then I would have never let you go. I would have told you that you are the sole purpose of my existence. You’re the reason why I wake up every morning with the biggest smile on my face. I never thought I was capable of experiencing love—loving someone and being in love but now—that’s all I want—with you and only you. I can’t take back what I did, but I can spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re the one for me and that I would go to the depths of hell and back just to be the lucky man who gets to love you. Tell me you don’t love me anymore. Tell me that it’s too late and that your heart is no longer mine. Tell me that you want nothing to do with me and that Jinyoung is the one that you want. Just say the word and I’ll let you go—no matter how badly I don’t want to.” 

You took in a few deep breaths and bit down on your bottom lip in frustration. You began to weigh out your choices—you had such a wonderful man somewhere on this campus; probably wondering where you were. He was willing to give you his heart on a tray like it was the easiest thing to do. But then, there was the man in front of you. The man you loved with every fiber of your being. Every beat of your heart. He might have made a mistake, but he was obviously paying for it and if he was willing to give up his pride and his ego to confess how sorry he was and how he loved you like he’s never loved anyone before—then you had to trust that he would follow his word and take care of you the way he promised he would right? 

“Did you suffer without me?” He looked at you and nodded profusely. 

“Every fucking day. I took a few days off from work and school because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was trying to look for you everywhere but you kept dodging me.” You brought one hand up in to his hair—running your fingers through his brown locks and cupping the back of his neck with the other hand. 

“You love me?”

“Yes. God—I can’t seem to do anything but love you. All I ever want to do is love you.”

Feeling him smile in to the kiss did wonders to your heart. He smashed his lips against yours—not giving you any chance to breathe as he roughly molded his mouth with yours; sucking and nipping on your lips, running his tongue lustfully against yours. You’ve missed this. It’s been so long—being away from him. Being held by him. You knew that no matter how much you deserved better, Mark Tuan was your person. Being there with him felt like coming home after a long day and it was such a good feeling. One you could get used to now that you knew where his heart lies. He sat you up on the table and gently pushed you down before attacking your face, jaw and neck with many wet kisses. However, to his dismay, you lifted him off of you and brought his face in between your hands and placed a sweet kiss on his forehead.

“Then I’m yours.”

[everybodyscupoftea]

keeping a secret

pike jj x reader (ft. cody and tyler)

family secret santa in which the boys can’t keep a secret

this made my heart soft btw so y’all are going to melt

(warnings: cursing, light editing)

Secret Santa never worked the way it was supposed to. The four of you drew names the weekend after Thanksgiving, and when you got together to exchange gifts, you had pretty much figured out who had who.

“There’s a forfeit this year,” you interrupted their excited chatter, clutching Cody’s name in your hand, “if I find out who everyone has before we open gifts because of y’all’s dumbasses, you all have to buy me a gift.”

Tyler scoffed, “How is it our fault, maybe you’re just nosy.”

You raised your eyebrows, “So last year you didn’t borrow my chapstick and accidentally slide your slip of paper back into my pocket with the chapstick? And then JJ didn’t literally try and buy my gift while I was in the same room?”

Cody snorted, “She may have a point.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Y’all are sucking the fun out of it, so please, keep it a secret for fuck’s sake.”

“Mhmm, sure. Um, J, what were you wanting for Christmas this year?” Cody asked, grinning at you.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threatened, flipping him off, before pulling your phone out, “everyone send what they want in the group chat.”

You watched Cody’s message roll in and had to hold back a scoff at a date please.

“Cody, you’re being difficult,” Tyler complained.

“Fine,” he huffed and sent something else.

Idk kitchen shit i guess

Now that you could work with.

-

“You know,” JJ mused from where he was lying on your bed, “I think that you have me.”

“Pardon?” you asked.

“What’d you get me for Christmas, I know you have me for Secret Santa.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I’m not going to ask how you came to that conclusion, but I want to make it absolutely clear that if you try and ruin Secret Santa again, I will kill you.”

“You won’t,” he answered, confidently, “but I know because Tyler obviously has Cody after the text thing. And I have-” you lunged across the bed to clap your hand over his mouth.

“Maybank, I thought I was clear.”

He smirked and licked your palm until you jerked your hand back, JJ answered, innocent tone of voice, “I was just going to say that I have someone other than myself.”

“Sure you were.”

As you moved to stand, he frowned, grabbing your wrist, “I promise I’ll drop it. Can we study?”

“That’s what you’re here for.”

-

Wanna go to the mall this afternoon

Came onto your phone in the middle of your class, and you sighed, reminding yourself to respond to Tyler once the lesson was finished. Your professor let the class out early, and you responded, walking toward your apartment.

Yeah sure. What time?

Now. I’ll pick you up at your apartment

Okay I’m not quite there yet

I know. I’m sitting outside

You snorted, not even remotely surprised. He was parked right outside your building, looking down at his phone, and you ducked, sneaking around the front of his truck before popping up and tapping on the driver’s window.

He jumped high enough that his head slammed into the roof and screamed so loud and high pitched that even you flinched. Tyler grabbed his chest and glared at you, flipping you off.

Laughing, you ran around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat and asked, “What’s up, creep?”

“Nothing much, asshole.”

“To the mall?” you said, buckling up.

“Yeah, gotta get my Secret Santa gift.” You gave him a look, and he glanced over at you at a red light, “What?”

“Ty, baby, please tell me you’re not bringing me to spoil Secret Santa.”

“I’m,” he paused, “not?”

“Uh huh. Well, I hope you’re buying one for me too, that’s the deal.”

“How do you know I’m not getting one for you in the first place.”

“Tyler,” you warned, “I swear to god.”

“Darling,” he answered, “I’m not religious.”

You groaned, “I’m going to kill you before your driving does.”

-

“I need help,” Cody told you, sitting down with a dramatic frown.

“With what?” you tossed your notebook aside to give him your full attention.

He smiled sheepishly, “Can you wrap my gift for me?”

“What?”

“I know you’re joking. Did the three of you plan this? You’ve all done this.”

“Done what?”

“Tried to ruin it for me.”

“Nope, it’s honestly coincidental and absolutely hilarious.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not helping you.”

“Fine,” he pouted, “I guess that my person will be very disappointed, don’t want to upset-” and before he could answer, you kicked out and hit his thigh hard.

“Cody, you’re going to make me do something drastic.”

He smirked, “Oh yeah, like what?”

“I’m going to spoil it for you. I know how much you love Christmas.”

Cody looked conflicted, “Damn, you’ve kinda got me there.”

“Wrap your own damn gifts.”

-

You showed up to the frat house in your pajamas, ready to exchange gifts. Cody was in the kitchen, finishing up some snacks for the group, and you leaned against the counter, “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Excited for today?”

He beamed, “Of course.”

Tyler stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you gaped at him, “Bro, it’s 2 p.m.”

He yawned, scratching his stomach, “I’m catching up on sleep.”

“From what?”

“Life, bro. It’s exhausting being alive.”

Which, fucking true. You held your fist out for him to bump, “Feel that.”

“Nap later,” he suggested and you nodded.

JJ came down the stairs next and tilted your chin up to kiss you hello, tapping his fingers on your jaw a few times before pulling back.

Tyler made a gagging noise and reached for a mug of coffee Cody poured. JJ rolled his eyes, “Don’t be bitter.”

“Can we just open gifts?” Tyler whined.

You laughed and nodded, “Yes, let’s take a seat, shall we?”

Cody looked at you warily, “Why the tone?”

“Tone?” you asked, faking innocence.

JJ side eyed you, “You know?”

“I know.”

Tyler groaned, “Literally how? Who blabbed?”

“Cody did. He drunk texted me asking what JJ wanted.”

He smiled sheepishly, “I have zero recollection.”

“Okay but how did you figure out the rest?” Tyler interrupted.

“You have me, we didn’t buy anything at the mall that time we went, but you followed me around all afternoon, trying to figure out what I was interested in.” Tyler narrowed his eyes, “That obvious, huh?”

“It was. Which means JJ has you because I have Cody.”

Pushing himself back, JJ laughed, “Got it in one.”

You crossed your arms, “So I will be accepting gifts from JJ and Cody in the near future, thanks.”

Cody sighed, “We figured you’d find out, so we actually already ordered them, just not in yet.”

“Oh my god,” Tyler muttered, “y’all are awful.”

“Hey,” Cody pointed at him accusatory, “just because you weren’t at fault doesn’t mean you get to take a moral high ground, you’re the one who ruined it last year.”

“Yeah,” JJ added on, “I’m the only one who gets to take it.”

“You ruined it the first year,” you reminded him, “well, Brooke did I guess. She texted me asking why the fuck you were spending more money on my gift than hers.”

Tyler choked on his coffee, “What?!”

JJ’s jaw dropped, and you suddenly realized you’d never told any of them about it. They all stared at you, waiting for a response, “Yeah, she was mad I guess.”

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered.

Cody laughed, “God she was the fucking worst. That’s why your gift was cheap sweetheart.”

After a few more seconds of laughter, JJ finally interrupted, “Okay, we should actually exchange gifts.”

“Right, so, I had Cody,” you started, passing over your gift.

He tore into it and pulled out the apron that said plant mom in a script font with plants scattered randomly all over the front. He snorted, “This is fucking fantastic.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “but there’s actually more, so don’t get stuck on the apron.”

Cody pulled out a set of hockey tickets, two for the upcoming Hurricanes Leafs matchup and gasped, “Dude, oh my god, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

Laughing, you puckered your lips, “Any time, baby.”

JJ chuckled, “Mr. Steal My Girl, huh?”

“Maybank, she’d leave you in a fucking heartbeat for a Leafs player, we both know that. I’m not quite as great, but I’m close,” Cody fired back, softening it by sliding his gift for JJ across the table. 

Picking it up, JJ shook it a few times before digging through the bag. He made a weird face and pulled out a pair of boxers. His jaw dropped and Cody was very clearly holding in laughter.

“What is it?” Tyler asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Wordlessly, he held them up and flipped them around so everyone could see daddy issues written across the ass in pink writing.

You and Tyler busted out laughing as Cody sat, arms crossed looking smug. JJ was clearly unsure how to feel, close to laughing, until Cody took pity, “Don’t worry, bro, there’s more in the bag.”

Sure enough, JJ pulled out a new wallet, one he’d been eyeing for months but hadn’t pulled the trigger on because it was a bit out of budget. Smiling softly at Cody, he told him, “Thanks bro, love you.”

“Love you too, J.”

“No sappy hours early,” Tyler interrupted, “give me my gift.”

“It’s 2 p.m.,” JJ muttered but passed the box over to Tyler anyway.

He tore into it and JJ jolted forward, “Dude, it’s breakable, chill.”

Inside was a nice tea set and a box of fancy teas. Tyler blinked a few times, in awe of the contents, “Woah.”

“I know you like tea more than coffee, and we never have any here, so I figured I’d set you up.”

“I-” Tyler cut himself off, “wow, this is really thoughtful. Thanks buddy.”

“Anytime. I’ll tell you where I ordered them too so if you like one you can order more. I kinda just got a starter pack.”

“Yeah, that would be sick.”

JJ squeezed his shoulder and Tyler cleared his throat, passing a small bag across the table. You picked it up, curious, and pulled the tissue paper out. After looking, you let out a loud laugh, “Great minds, huh?”

“Great minds,” Tyler nodded, folding his hands.

“What is it?” JJ asked, leaning over.

“Leafs tickets. Two of them.”

“Well,” Cody said, “guess we can all go now. Sitting in different places, but we can make a trip of it.”

Tyler lit up, “I didn’t even think about that!”

“Boys night,” Cody cheered.

“Fuck yes,” you agreed, clutching the tickets to your chest.

“Oh,” Tyler leaned forward, “there’s something else, but it’s in my room, be right back.”

He disappeared up the stairs, and JJ stood to grab his wallet to start switching everything over. Cody looked pleased, and Tyler came running back down a few seconds later with a box in his hand.

“This too,” he huffed out, collapsing back into the chair.

“You’re going to break that one day,” you warned him, tearing into the wrapping paper. Inside was the pair of running shoes you’d talked about the day you went to the mall with him and you smiled, “Thanks, bud.”

“Mall trip successful,” he responded, taking the last sip of his coffee before standing again, “who wants tea?”

“Me,” you answered, standing with him while Cody started pulling out plates for the snacks he’d made. 

In the loudness of everyone talking over each other, you just had to smile. Sure it was chaotic, but it was your family, and you loved them all dearly.

“Oh,” you remembered, “Cody and JJ I expect my gifts on Christmas Eve, thanks.”

Cody groaned and JJ squeezed his shoulder, “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

~

for day nine of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: secret santa

[votederpycausemufins]

The rescue commences. But it’s going to be harder than Tommy thought because the bots aren’t so keen on being rescued.

the tagged people i like! @petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

Xannes spoke Jrum’s name as a question and immediately all eyes were on him. Xannes tried to keep from cursing in front of the kid, but it was a little hard when he saw even more red. Did he just change his face to match the room, or did he just do that whenever. “Xannes? What are you doing here?”

“You know this guy?” The demon asked in a wary tone.

“Yes he does. As for the question, NPG found out about the situation with your disappearance and I offered to come looking for you.”

Jrum’s face instantly lit up and in a moment he was running over to hug the helsmit. Xannes almost accepted it too, since the kid probably had been terrified in an unfamiliar place. But just at the last second, he saw the red plants that coated Jrum’s body and he took a step again. “Sorry. Still not a hugger.”

Jrum pouted and crossed his arms, but didn’t actually seem too upset. “Well, you came at the best possible time! Is NPG going to show up too?”

“Unfortunately not. I don’t think he can get in and I haven’t figured out what’s causing it yet.”

“Aww… It would have been nice…”

“So, what’s going on here?”

“This is the Red Banquet.” The demon spoke, looking much less threatening now that he knew Xannes was a friend. “We’ve been planning this little party for a while and I’m sure other guests will be arriving shortly. You’re just a bit early.”

“Is that why the entrance was covered up?” Xannes asked, glancing behind himself for a moment, both to look at the entrance as well as from the feeling of being watched.

“Yes, I hope you didn’t hurt them too much.”

“Hurt… who?” Xannes asked nervously and suddenly he realized just exactly how off this all felt.

“The Egg of course! It’s the source of all the plants around us!”

Xannes glanced at Jrum. “Alright, why’s he got the things growing in him? I’d think that wouldn’t be good for his body.”

“I’m just fine! Better even! I can do things all on my own and don’t need any of Grum’s stupid help.”

That made Xannes realise that the other of the two bots was indeed missing. “Wait, where is he?”

“I don’t really know. I haven’t seen him in a while. He could be dead for all I care.”

The helsmit looked back at the people gathered around the table. This really did seem all too familiar. And that wasn’t a good thing. He remembered having NPG finally getting the turquoise infection out of his system so he could deal with the rest of the similarly infected helsmets of turquoise and magenta spores. “I’m guessing HEP is less of a problem here?”

Most of the people at the table looked confused, but of course Jrum wasn’t, and surprisingly, neither was the demon. “No! We crushed them into the ground, and if any of them wants to live, they’ll come here!”

Xannes choked in surprise. Okay, it looked like those plants were really getting to him. “Well, looks like there’s still a few kicking around.”

“Really? Who? Is it Grum?!”

“Nope. Sorry kid.” Xannes added enchantments to his sword as he pulled it out. “Guess I’m just following in my brother’s footsteps, huh.”

And then chaos broke out.

Tommy had no idea how different the SMP would be when he got back. He expected more of the same, people around making destructive chaos and probably new posters and creeper holes. But the red shit all over the place was different. Plus it didn’t look like anyone was really around.

Before moving anywhere, he pulled out the comm Grian had given him and sent him a message.

<NPC_GRIAN> Alright, made it in.

<NPC_GRIAN> Wait was this NPG’s

He waited, but a message didn’t come in right away, so Tommy put the comm away to start looking. He didn’t know what exactly the plants were, but enough crazy things had happened in this world, so he mainly just ignored them, not caring if he did touch them. One thing that did get his attention was a poster that the plants were bordering. It was inviting people, Tommy assumed anyone, to the Red Banquet. Whatever that was. At the very least that likely explained the lack of people.

Tommy continued walking, poking his head into just about every building to hopefully find someone, but there was still nothing. He was hoping for at least someone to be around to tell him what was going on, but it didn’t look like that was the case. “How the fuck does everyone go to the same fucking thing? And where the fuck is it?”

No answer came for Tommy, so he ended up going into his old home, though it looked like someone had been living there. Connor, if the signs were telling the truth. “Well, let’s see if any of my shit is still here.”

Tommy honestly couldn’t remember what stuff would have been there, but there were still some items that he thought would be good to have on him, just in case. As he was rummaging around, the door behind him opened, and Tommy turned around to see who it was. Tommy’s fight or flight response immediately activated when he was staring at the admin, who was surprisingly just staring back at him.

“D-Dream…”

“How the fuck did you get here before me?!”

“Bitch I’ve been gone for months, you had plenty of time to visit this place. That’s only going to be your fault.” Tommy retorted, forcing himself to have some confidence.

“It is possible a teleport was used if he was aware of your destination.” Another voice spoke and Tommy lit up for a second.

“Holy fuck, Grum! That was easier than I expected. Where’s Jrum?” Then he stopped when he finally saw Grum and the state he was in. In his anger, he pulled out his borrowed sword and pointed it at Dream. “What the fuck did you do?” 

Before Dream or Grum could say anything, Grum suddenly turned around and drew a weapon, deflecting an attack from behind. “You done running yet?”

“How are you-”

“You! You goddamn bitch!”

“You’re supposed to be in prison!”

“What is going on?!”

Grum slashed at Theseus’ legs before answering. “The one currently attacking us is an alternate form of bzzt from a separate universe. The one we discovered is the one you are likely more familiar with.”

“Yeah green bitch! What are you going to do with two of us?”

Dream looked like he was about to attack, but then he was grabbed by Grum. “Commencing emergency escape.” And then the two of them disappeared.

“Fuck, now they’re gone.”

Theseus stepped into Tommy’s old house, holding his axe at the ready. “How did you get out?”

“Hey, you really want to kill me? Wouldn’t that end badly for you?” Tommy took a step back.

“Answer the fucking question!”

“Your Phil let me out when he realized you weren’t in the hels dimension anymore.”

Theseus spoke another curse under his breath. “Well, you better not get in the fucking way.”

Tommy crossed his arms. “Hey, I’m just after Grum and Jrum, and seeing as how he’s…” Tommy trailed off for a moment, remembering Grum and how he reminded Tommy of himself when he was in exile. “He’s got Grum, so as long as that’s the case, I’m after him too.”

“It’s a lost cause. That thing is better used for scrap metal. Though hopefully after I’ve gotten Dream back to hels.”

“Wait, why do you want that?” Tommy asked. Why would anyone actually want Dream around and not just kill him. “Didn’t you kill your version of him? Why get a replacement?”

“Because I wasn’t finished dealing with the first one.” Theseus answered, then put his axe away. “Let me do what I’m here to do, and maybe I’ll help with your little problem. Got it?” And before Tommy could answer, his hels version was gone.

Tommy wanted to follow, but first pulled out his comm to send an update and hope Grian had responded. He smiled when he saw that he had, but then confused when he saw there were other messages. He read them off, then sent some messages back.

<Grian> That’s good to hear. And yeah it’s his. He never used it so I ended up keeping it on me and never got it back to him.

[Eyes] X-1, Y-1, Z-1

[Eyes] X-2, Y-2, Z-2

[Eyes] X-3, Y-3, Z-3

<NPC_GRIAN> I got good, bad and unsure news

<NPC_GRIAN> Good, I found one of them

<NPC_GRIAN> Bad, something’s seriously wrong with him cause Dream did something

<NPC_GRIAN> weird, just got message from something/someone called Eyes giving me three sets of coordinates

<NPC_GRIAN> any way to use this thing to look at my coords?

Tommy stood there, waiting for a response. When one wasn’t coming in, he started fiddling with the comm to try and figure it out himself. Just as Grian got back to him, Tommy figured it out.

<Grian> Seriously wrong how?

<NPC_GRIAN> Looks damaged and isn’t showing much emotion. Also working with Dream? But the bitch tried convincing me he was my friend so could be the same sort of thing

<NPC_GRIAN> also figured out coords

Tommy switched back to the coordinate reader and started shifting around, trying to figure out which direction was which. It seemed like the first and second set of coordinates were about the same distance from where he currently was. Because of that, he started to head towards the first one listed. While he was walking, another message came in from Grian.

<Grian> That was fast. Anyway, what do the other messages look like?

<NPC_GRIAN> I started working on it when you didn’t get back to me immediately.

<NPC_GRIAN> looks like: [Eyes] coordinates

<NPC_GRIAN> doesn’t look like a player’s text, but also not sure what could message me, so that’s why I’m not sure.

Tommy groaned when a message didn’t come back within the next few seconds. What was Grian doing that was causing such a delay. Maybe it was just the way these comms worked? Once Grian got back to him, he could bring it up.

<Grian> Yeah, that looks like something else. And what do you mean not immediately?

<NPC_GRIAN> I’m guessing it’s something with these comms. It’s taking you ages to send a message back.

He had nearly reached the coordinates when Grian got back to him.

<Grian> Meanwhile I’m getting your messages all at once like they were pre-typed. That’s not a good sign.

<NPC_GRIAN> Well shit

Tommy stuffed the comm in his pocket and started running. He was close enough to tell that the coords were for the house that Tommy had never seen before, but recognized just the same due to it looking more like something out of Hermitcraft. He slammed the door open and started calling. “Jrum! Hey Jrum are you in here?!” There was no answer and Tommy checked the communicator again. He was just about at the right coordinates, but the Y value was a little off. That probably meant that the location needed to be exact, and Tommy looked down at the comm to make sure he lined up exactly. Because of that, he didn’t realize he was about to walk into something until he crashed into the charger and fell to the ground.

“Oh that’s a big charger. Why’s it so huge?” He looked between the coordinates again. “Oh. I’m guessing something’s in there.” Tommy broke into the charger’s casing and poked his head inside. For the most part, it was just a jumble of redstone, but in one corner was a torch lighting up a barrel. The teen pulled himself inside just enough to open the barrel and pull the contents out, that being a single unsigned book.

Tommy looked around before going over to a table and sitting down to read the book. He sent another quick update to Grian before opening it up and reading. It seemed to be a lot of notes written down, filling the pages. None of them were complete sentences, and the ink stains made Tommy imagine a number of them were written in a rush.

Zoning out = DSMP console program. QHHBP program active? What's KGADOOHM and HJTHJ? Connected to K⊣OOᒲR? There’s a vault. It’s for favorite things. Items and animals. I couldn’t write right. I think I zoned out there and fell. Posters of 2 music discs. Coords: X-3, Y-3, Z-3.

Tommy looked at his comm and noticed the third set of coordinates matched the ones written down in the book. Obviously he would need to go there. But Tommy continued reading, messaging Grian what was written down.

Woke up in pain. Programs were running too much. Don’t know why. Managed to unplug and drain battery. 873.5% of what. It was connected to ⎓⚍リ↸||?

Jrum officially moved out. He likes the red plants. I don’t. They’re not natural. Admin keeps visiting. Asking questions. Not sure how to feel. ⎓⚍リ↸|| visits too. Those are nicer.

Tommy flipped through more pages. More questions and confusion. Some did end up as full writing while others were just more quickly written words to convey an idea. With the mention of Jrum, this was obviously something Grum wrote, but there was almost too much here. Then Tommy stopped and read another entry.

Jrum officially got adopted. I don’t understand how I feel. It hurts but I’m also happy. He’ll stay away, but it just reminds me how hurt he is. How scared I feel. I miss my dads. Why didn’t they find us?

Jrum got adopted? Grum wondering why Grian and Mumbo hadn’t come for them and missing them? That wasn’t good. And based on the messaging problem, Tommy had an idea why.

<NPC_GRIAN> Another page implies they’ve been here a really long time. Explains why the server’s so different and how Dream was able to get Grum to that point.

<NPC_GRIAN> also you’re probably going to have to fight for custody or something because someone adopted Jrum.

Since Tommy knew he wasn’t going to get an answer back soon, he went back to reading. The messages seemed to be shorter and shorter, the handwriting becoming more messy. Tommy assumed that was because of them being over time and Dream breaking the bot down more and more. Then he got to a list which he immediately typed up and sent to Grian.

<NPC_GRIAN> Found a list of names or something. Obviously seems important.

<NPC_GRIAN> List: Grum, Dream, Gorgeous, Poultry Man, Eyes, Console

<NPC_GRIAN> I don’t know if it’s a code or just names or what. But since I got messages from ‘Eyes’...

Tommy closed the book and put it in his inventory. There was still more to read, but he already got information from it and was losing time. For now he needed to go to the second coordinates.

Xannes just stood, not even reacting when the first person attacked him. Their axe blade was aimed right for his chest, no armor there to stop it, but the weapon bounced off, causing no damage. Someone else attacking had the same reaction. “Sorry, but doesn’t look like your weapons are really working right now. Too bad since I’m sure mine will work fine.” And he swung his sword, hitting the next person who attempted to fight him. They were set on fire due to the fire aspect as well and being knocked away, slamming into the wall from a high level knockback.

From there, Xannes continued to attack, even getting a little cocky about the fact he couldn’t get hit in his current player-mode. Because of that, he was easily caught off guard when the demon grabbed him, forgetting he was only invulnerable to damage. While it didn’t hurt when he would have otherwise been crushed to death, now he couldn’t move at all.

His best shot was to try and get the demon with his sword. Demons were normally connected to the nether and his aetherite sword being an opposite of netherite tended to have a worse effect on them. But before he could get far with that plan, the weapon was taken away, and since he wasn’t in hels, his hacking capabilities couldn’t get him a new one. Potentially he could summon it back to himself, but that would be a little more complicated to use and could cost extra seconds he wouldn’t have.

“Why did you come if you’re just here to hurt me?” Jrum asked, clinging to the cat hybrid.

“I was trying to find you and your brother to take you home.” Xannes grunted, struggling as much as he could to get out. “I didn’t realize you’d be mind controlled or whatever this is.”

“I-I’m not being- and why would you want to take me home?”

“Uh, because your family is worried about you and helping out is the ‘good thing’ to do and all that bullshit.”

Jrum crossed his arms. “I don’t want to go. They just left me here, and… and now I have a new family!”

Xannes was about to speak up, but then he was squeezed a bit harder for a moment, pushing the air out of his lungs for a moment. “And we’re not letting anything happen to him, so if you’re planning on hurting him, you can think again!”

Xannes was wheezing slightly, trying to breathe. Suffocation like this was weird. Technically it couldn’t kill him or cause actual damage, but it still managed to cause a type of ghost pain. It was getting to the point where he was worried about managing to pass out, when there were voices. They sounded distant and unfamiliar, but getting closer. For a moment, Xannes thought he was imagining it, but the fact that the people around him were reacting to it too made him realize it was real.

People started appearing from the entrance, all of them wearing what Xannes was pretty sure looked like hazmat suits of some kind, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure from this distance and his current situation. What he could be sure of was the yell that came, and the chorus of the same response from Jrum’s new ‘family’.

“Jrum!”

“Tommy?!”

Tommy was almost to the second set of coordinates when he saw something different. It was a person. Well, not just a person, but a number of people. “Hey! Heeeey!” He yelled out to get their attention and most everyone looked over, showing a mix of emotions from surprise, to fear, to acceptance.

“Is that Tommy?”

“No, Tommy’s dead. Dream said so.”

“Well he lied bitch!” Tommy said, finally reaching the group. “What the fuck is going on around here?”

“I think you need to give answers first.”

Tommy groaned a little. “Okay fine, I ran off, started living somewhere else. Tubbo thought I was dead and pulled me back. I didn’t want to come back and brought Tubbo with me, and then Phil and Techno followed. I’m back ‘cause some kids ended up here on accident and I’m after them.”

“Are you talking about Grum and Jrum?” Tommy was pretty sure that was Puffy.

“Yeah! Any clue where Jrum is, cause I’ve seen Grum.” Tommy watched as a few people glanced at each other. “Oh fuck, what’s wrong?”

“First, you need to put a hazmat suit on.” Someone stepped forward, and Tommy was surprised to see it was Sam, looking a little odd without his creeper mask on, unable to wear it with the rest of the suit. 

“Can I ask why?”

“See all the red plants? Bad found something underground and started worshipping it. It’s started corrupting people, and one of them is your friend.”

“Shit.” Tommy said, grabbing the offered suit and putting it on. “You said Bad and Jrum, who else is down there.”

“Ant, Punz, Purpled, Ponk, Fundy, also someone named Hannah, you wouldn’t know her. She joined while you were presumed dead. We’re still unsure about Sapnap since he’s been trying to stay out of it, but Bad was really trying to pull him in.”

Tommy nodded, then realized that if Bad was the person in charge and tried pulling Sapnap in, then he also likely tried with- “And what about Skeppy?”

“He… he was involved.”

“I’m noticing the use of that in the past word shit. That mean he got out or…?”

“Last week Bad ended up getting him killed.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. If this thing could get Bad to kill Skeppy, it was really dangerous. “Alright, then let’s get in there.”

“Wait, you need a few things.” Sam started handing him items as other people in the group started moving. “These splash bottles are filled with holy water from church prime. They seem to help against these plants. Flint and steel to burn anything you're able to break. It needs to be fully burned or it can heal itself. Also don’t actively try to break anything except the source which looks like a giant egg. Trying to break anything is like it has a thorns enchantment. You get hurt back if you try to break it. Same thing happens with the main source, but it hurts you more, so you’ll need the extra health.”

Tommy took all the offered items, then followed the group down. He kept his sword at the ready, even testing it with one of the vines on the walls. Ow, yeah, that did hurt. So it didn’t look like the different material would help anything. Tommy was mostly willing to help, but he also knew that trying to get Jrum out of there would probably be a better priority since that’s what he was there for anyway and getting rid of any member of this evil group or whatever it was would help.

The moment he got down into the main cavern, he called out Jrum’s name. “Jrum!” He then watched as the people who had already been down there turned to look at him, surprised to see him alive.

“Hey! Theseus copy! Say yes!” Someone spoke up, and Tommy vaguely remembered the voice, but couldn’t place it. He had no idea what it would do, so he ended up saying yes anyway. Immediately, he regretted it as the sword in his hand disappeared. But that was followed by a yell from Bad, and Tommy saw him let go a person who was now holding the pink sword. “Thanks.”

Tommy caught the sword as it was thrown back to him, the other person he now recognized as Xannes slamming himself into Ponk and taking another aetherite sword from him. “Now what are you doing here?”

“Got Grian to send me in as back up. I see you found Jrum.”

“Yeah, the little shit has the weird vines growing on him and apparently has decided that these idiots are his family now. Bit of a downgrade if you ask me.”

Tommy slashed at someone who tried to attack Xannes from behind. “Yeah, found a book that I’m pretty sure is Grum’s. Apparently they’ve been here a long while and Jrum ended up getting adopted.”

“Hasn’t it been just a few days?”

“Yeah, so obviously there’s a big issue. Any chance you can teleport us out of here if I grab Jrum?”

“It would be easy if I had some coordinates.” Xannes knocked someone to the ground and then stole their axe before throwing it at someone else to hit them with it.

“Yeah, I’ve got some. X-3, Y-3, Z-3. That work for you?”

“Sure they’re safe?”

Tommy shook his head. “Not at all, but they were sent to me by someone, and the previous two ended up helping.”

“Alright, but if you get us trapped, I’m getting myself out and leaving you behind.”

“Yeah whatever, I already broke out of one prison. I’m sure there’s nothing as tough as that one.”

“Oh please tell me you didn’t.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“Goddammit. Just grab Jrum and bring him here..” the helsmit groaned, attacking another corrupted SMP member and giving Tommy an opening.

Tommy ran towards the bot. He didn’t have as good of a sword as Xannes, so getting through everyone was a bit tougher, but he finally made it, grabbing the bot’s arm. Jrum immediately turned to look at him. For a moment, Tommy thought it would be easy, until the kid pulled out an axe and something Tommy recognized flashed on screen. “Oh shit shit shit! Jrum Jrum Jrum Jrum no!” He barely dodged the swing of an axe by jumping back. Sure, Jrum was a kid, but he was a robot kid. That sometimes took combat lessons from False. And he could remember them perfectly. And that meant the kid could potentially be as dangerous as, dare he say it, Techno.

He tried to keep dodging, moving back so Jrum would have to follow, but hits were landing, and the hazmat suit wasn’t the best armor to wear. He hazarded a glance behind him to check how close they were to Xannes, but he got an axe to his gut and fell to the floor, the hazmat suit now torn. “Xannes! A little help!”

The admin rushed over, hitting Jrum back with a fist to avoid using knockback but also keep him from killing Tommy. Then he hit a button on his helmet and the three of them were teleported away. The sudden change of scenery made Jrum stop attacking at the very least, now focused on figuring out where they were.

“Where did you take us?! Where are we?! Take me back!”

“No fucking clue.” Tommy answered, looking around before his eyes widened. “Wait, are those…?” He jumped up, seeing the posters of his discs and the two of them each on their own pedestal on a platform of gold blocks on either side of a nether portal. “My discs!”

He started running towards them, but was shot from the side. The power from the punch bow pushed Tommy with enough force, he fell back down. He winced and held the wound before looking to see who had shot him. “Dream…”

“How did you find this place?”

“That would be my doing.” Xannes raised his hand for a moment to get the admin’s attention before noticing the second robot. “And I see you have Grum with you.”

“Grum?!” Jrum looked over, asking the question angrily. “What, you couldn’t be dead?!”

Grum took a slight step to the side to be seen better. “And I see you are with these two. I believed you to have finally given up, but yet you still cling to meaningless hope.”

“No! I have a new family! I don’t care about these two.”

“And yet here you are, with both of them and coming after me. I thought I made it quite clear that I have no want to be around something as useless as you.”

“I’M NOT USELESS!” Jrum shouted before running at Grum, fast enough that Dream reacted by simply moving out of the way, pulling out a shield in an attempt to block. Jrum attempted to attack with his axe, but the blade just clashed against another axe in Grum’s hand. Jrum attempted to attack again, but it was also blocked by a mirrored move. The two robots just started to fight each other, neither managing to hit the other as they perfectly matched each other’s moves.

Dream attempted to stop the fight with an attack of his own, but he ran into an invisible wall. Feeling around, he was surrounded by the same problem. “Barrier blocks. Sorry, but not something you can escape from. You’ve got bedrock right below you and I know you decided using a console was the best option for whatever reason, so you don’t have any escape.”

“Alright, now let’s break the bots up.” Tommy said, walking towards them, switching his broken hazmat suit for armor. 

“Where’d you get all that gear?”

“Sto- uhhh borrowed it from NPG. It was the only thing I had access to and didn’t want to have absolutely nothing. Didn’t get a chance to replace it cause I got here too quickly.” Tommy explained before getting between the bots. “Alright you two, break it- ow! Stop hitting me! You’re gonna kill me!”

Xannes sighed and pulled Tommy out from the battle. “That was probably the worst idea.”

“It was at least something. So unless you want to suggest something, it’s the best we got.”

“Here’s an idea. You give Dream to me.”

Tommy and Xannes turned to see Theseus coming out of the nether portal. “After that, well, don’t get in my way anymore and maybe I’ll let you live.”

[liibrii]

Chapter 3: In the light, your name

Ojiro Aran x fem!reader

Series Masterpost || Ch. 1 || Ch. 2

wc: 4.7k

warnings: time skip spoilers, swearing, internalised guilt and shame, intrusive thoughts, self doubt, drinking.

a/n: this only took forever cause I got carried away (what a surprise). if you wanna be tagged in future chapters lemme know, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated! 

A step forward, two steps back. Like a dance, just like his mother taught him, dancing and laughing back home, only this dance holds no joy, only cruel turns and twirls and your hand slipping from his as fate whisks you away.

“One Ace special coming up!“ Osamu places a plate of freshly made onigiris in front of Aran. They look amazing, as if taken directly out of one of those fancy cooking books. The practice had been especially gruelling that day and yet Aran has no appetite. All he wants is to go home and sleep. He would have, if Gao hadn't dragged him to the newly opened Tokyo branch of Onigiri Miya.

More out of politeness than really being hungry he takes a bite. It's good, much better than ones he remembers Osamu bringing to practice. “Woah, this is tasty!“

Osamu practically beams at Aran's praise. Even he has changed, notices Aran. Has he grown a little? The grey of his hair is gone, and he smiles so much more. Aran doesn't remember ever seeing him so talkative.

Has everyone changed so much while he wasn't paying attention?

While chewing he pulls phone from his bag, in some silly hope there'd be a message from you. But the screen is empty and seeing his screensaver is almost a mocking to his hopes. What else did he expect? People don't always mean what they say, but a storm doesn't mean to blow away roofs either.

Lost in his thoughts Aran barely takes notice when Gao says his goodbye and other customers slowly start leaving.

Osamu closes the shop then places two more cans of beer on the counter. Without much enthusiasm Aran opens the can and pours the fizzling liquid into a glass. Which drink was it, third? Fourth? For a moment he considers telling Osamu everything. About you, how he feels and how he screwed up. Just to get it out there. But Aran knows Osamu talks to Atsumu, and Atsumu never learned what keeping a secret means. So he blames his sour mood on practice.

 Even if Aran was a good liar Osamu'd see through his little ticks. They've been the same ever since elementary school and so obvious; the nervous scratching of his nails, rubbing of his neck. Ever since he'd grown a beard he added rubbing it to the list.

“I should probably get goin',“ says Aran before downing half the glass in one long gulp.

“What's a few more minutes?“ Osamu doesn't bother pouring his beer. “I'll clean up later. Don't have any other plans anyway.“

A low chuckle leaves Aran's lips. “Life goin' that good, yeah?”

“Could say that. Could be far worse. How about ya?“

Aran massages his temples. He's getting light headed and still he takes another long sip. “Like ya said, could be far worse. Had a rough couple weeks. Women, ya know?“

Osamu hums and nods, wisely. “Women. Got dumped, did ya?“

“In a way...“

“What happened, did ya forget her birthday or somethin'?“

Aran laughs. Oh no, he knows exactly when your birthday is. “Said somethin' stupid.“

“Just somethin'? If she gets upset so fast then maybe she's trouble.“

“Wasn't like that. She trusted me and I... had a bad day and took it out on her.“

Osamu takes an onigiri Aran hasn't touched yet. “Have ya apologised?“ He asks with his mouth full. “Should start with that,“ he continues after Aran shakes his head, “treat her to dinner. I know some good restaurants if ya want. Or better, cook somethin' yerself.“ He opens the browser on his phone. “What's her favorite food?“

Aran tells him. “Whichever recipe ya find I can tell ya right now I can't cook it.“

“I found a few even Tsumu can make,“ laughs Osamu still scrolling through his phone. “What's she like? More into fancy stuff or more homey? Fried rice's easy but not very fancy, more of a safe bet. Maybe with an omelette. I can show ya how to make it to look like a panda. Success guaranteed!“

“How can omelette look like a panda? It's yellow.“ 

“A yellow bear then,“ Osamu shruggs before putting away his phone. “Does she like bears?“

“Does- I ain't sure...“

“Ya don't know?“

“No! Why would I? Is that what ya ask folk ya take on dates?“

“Usually I ask what they think about apple curry.“

“I don't think she likes apple curry... Or maybe she does...“ He gloomily stares at the empty glass in front of him. “Gimme one more.“

Osamu obliges and pours him one more, deciding this is the last one for him. Aran's eyes are getting glassy and he dreamily observes the white foam before downing half the glass.

“We went down to the Kamakura beach,” he says, scratching at his immaculate fingernails. “She looked s' pretty in the sunset... She likes sunsets... I think. Ain't sure 'bout anythin' these days.“

“Everyone likes sunsets,“ nods Osamu. “Never trust people who don't like seein' sunsets. I'm tellin' ya, buy her some udon. Or bring her here, I'll give ya a special discount.“

Aran bursts into laughter. “He'll know then...“ Osamu leans his head to the side, wondering what his old teammate meant by that. “She's ex of a friend.“

“Ow,“ is all Osamu says. That explains everything. You don't date a friends' ex. “Sorry. She sounds great.“

“Yeah, yeah she is... Kinda almost like a whasit's called again, kotatsu? Warm...“ He's just blabbering now, his mind a hazy labyrinth of disconnected thoughts. He misses you, he misses you so bad, and he fucked up, and he doubts cooking you a dinner would repair the damage he's done. Once it would be pretty easy to bribe you with the right snacks but you've changed. You've changed so much he still fears he doesn't know you at all. “Hey Samu? Hav' I changed?“

“Yea? I doubt the old Aran-kun wouldda come to me for advice.“

Corners of Aran's lips perk up. Why is his glass empty? “Yer a good guy ‘Samu. Can ya call me a taxi? I've got practice t'morrow.“

He has to stop visiting Onigiri Miya on the evenings Aran thinks on another morning after drinking and talking with Osamu till late night hours. The cool breeze of the early morning hours is refreshing but isn't doing anything to ease the hammering in his head. Sky without a cloud promises the day to be sunny and hot. Aran's just glad he found his sunglasses ad that the gym has air conditioning.

There's a distant ringing in his ears. Ringing that doesn't stop and causes other people on the train to send him sideway looks. It's because his phone is ringing but he's too focused on trying not to throw up to notice. He only does so once he's walking the short walk from the train station to the gym. Seeing your name over the 'missed call' almost makes him drop the phone. He calls you back, frantically tapping his fingers on his arm, hoping you'll pick up. You don't.

The sun is too bright. Pouring rain would be more appropriate to his mood. Aran's glad he can hide from the warm rays inside the gym. No matter his mood volleyball always takes his mind off things, and even now he hopes it will help him see things more clearly. The thought of you has become a wind chime, singing at every little thing that makes him think of you. Staying focused on the ball in front of him is harder than expected. But first and foremost he's a professional volleyball player with a new season just around the corner. He can't let his team, his fans down. Since your first year of high school you've been his supporter too. He can't let you down.

When his phone rings again he’s in the middle of receiving drills and this call too goes unanswered. Instead your message waits for him.

           (9. 45) Aran are u free this Sunday? the shrine down the street is holding a festival. wanna come?  

A wide smile spreads over his face. He's more than happy to come he writes back, his smile spreading even wider when only a few moments later you text him place and time.

“Ojiro what are you looking at?“ Gao peers over his shoulder and Aran quickly puts his phone away.

“Nothin'“

“Nothing, ey? Does the nothing have a name?“

Aran rolls his eyes and heads for the showers, ignoring the teasing laughter of his teammates. Honestly, he's too excited to see you to care.

Aran glances on his phone to check the time. Five more minutes and he'll be only ten minutes early. He kicks the small stone form the pavement onto the road. Then he straightens his shirt. Maybe this colour wasn't the right choice after all, maybe you would've liked the red one better. Once in passing Akagi said red looked good on him. He sends you a short message, letting you know he's already here.

Minutes later he catches the sight of your figure manoeuvring between visitors flocking towards the many stands. “Sorry, I got worried all the best mochi'd sell out,“ you apologise, pointing to plate full of different kinds of mochi in your hand. “Samu isn't here yet?“

“No.“ His heart clenches. He didn't even think about the possibility of you inviting anyone else. “He's probably just late,“ he quickly adds, “let me call him.“

“Always late,“ you complain, “tell him I got his mochi but if he doesn't appear soon I'll just eat them myself. Want one?“

He declines the sweet and you shrug. While he waits for Osamu to pick up he avoids looking at you. The call goes unanswered. “I'll send him a message.“

“Tell him every minute he's late is a free onigiri,“ you mumble, your mouth full of delicious mochi. “And he's paying for drinks. I saw a stand with soya smoothies up the street. And a stand with takoyaki.“

“Have ya mapped out all the food stands?“ chuckles Aran.

“Well you know Samu, food is his best motivator. You sure you don't want one?“

He gives in and takes the matcha one. He watches with a fond smile as you stuff an entire mochi in your mouth.

“What?“ you mumble when you catch him staring.

“Ya look like a hamster.“

You roll your eyes in an effort to cover the smile creeping on your face. “Very funny. How's life?“

“It's fine,“ he nods, awkwardly.

“Good.“

“Yeah.“ He rubs his chin. The beard is getting a little long. He glances over at you. He should say something. But what? “I'm really sorry about what I said,“ he finally utters. “I do care. About you.“

“We all say things we don't mean, right?“ The soft look in your eyes makes his throat tighten. He hurt you and yet here you are. Reaching out, again. “It's all water under the bridge. Besides, I really missed hanging out with you. So, where do ya wanna go?“

“Shouldn't we wait for Osamu?“

“Nah. It's his fault for being late, he'll find us. And he better buy us those smoothies. Want one more mochi? You should really try the chocolate one, it's amazing.“

Never again. Aran doesn't want to see you hurt ever again.

The festival is crowded, which is to be expected in Tokyo, and he keeps an eye out for you. The last thing he wants is to lose you somewhere in the sea of people. He stays close, quietly delighting in seeing your excitement over different attractions of the festival. A few times your hand brushes against his, sending a shiver down his spine.

Osamu never shows up, messaging about an hour later he got stuck at work, promising you both as many onigiri as you'd like the next time you come around Onigiri Miya. “A shame. I was hoping to hang out with him while he's still in Tokyo.“

“He'll have time in the future,“ says Aran, doing his best to ignore the pang of jealousy in his chest.

“Probably. But will there be fresh soya smoothie for him to treat me to?“

Aran buys you the smoothie you so crave, grinning upon seeing your excitement. You walk around the festival grounds and from time to time he steals sips of your smoothie. You pout and nag he should buy one for himself but don't stop him. 

As night falls you search for a good place to watch the fireworks from. Just after they start Aran puts his hand on the small of your back to gently push you forward so you'd see better. But you don't budge and he bumps into you, his chest to your back. The sounds of festival fade, as if the crowd disappeared and all that remains is you, looking at him, fireworks reflecting in your eyes. The softness of your gaze causes his heart to do somersaults. You snicker and flick his nose.

Tease, he thinks and tickles you. He wishes he could properly put his arms around you and rest his head on your shoulder. He wishes he was here as more than just your friend. He wishes he alone would be enough of a reason for you to always have the same soft look in your eyes.

But if Kita, the perfect Kita Shinsuke, Kita who knew you better than anyone wasn't enough, how could he be?

His hand lingers on your arm for a heartbeat longer. He could try, he could always love you with all he has and hope you'd love him back, hope he could be enough. But if he failed... he'd only hurt you more, wouldn't he? And you've been hurt enough.

During lunch break his phone rings and his hearts jumps, hoping it's you. But instead Osamu's name is written over the screen. A bit disappointed Aran picks up.

“Aran-kun whatcha doin' this Saturday?“ Not even a'hello'. So many years and still so rude.

“Practice till afternoon, then watchin' a movie.“

“Amazin'! Want some company?“

A boys' night out? Why not? It would be nice to spend some time with someone who wasn't his teammate. “'Course.“

Osamu laughs. “Knew ya would. I happen to know someone interested in a blind date. I'll tell her to meet ya at the cinema.“

“What? Osamu I'm not really one for blind dates-“

“The ex of a friend. She's Kita-san' ex, isn't she?“ Aran's silence is an answer enough. “Ya asked me for advice. This is it, go out, try meetin' someone else. Whatever you want to have with her it won't end well.“

Aran knows. He knows all that. He knows you returning his feelings would be the worst case scenario. Sooner or later he'd have to tell Kita. “I know,“ he says. “I know that.“

Osamu doesn't answer immediately, waiting if Aran will add anything else. “Just go on this one date, see how it goes.“

“I'll think about it.“

He does think about it. The entire day in fact. Meeting someone new would be nice and who knows, she might be the one he's waiting for. A part of him, the guilty part that's been way too loud in the past weeks, stays firmly against the idea. Searching for the right one when you're right here. What if this blind date is just a crazy fan who somehow found her way to meeting him? And what about you, it asks? It would be cruel wouldn't it, leading you on while going on dates behind your back.

But he isn't leading you on, Aran argues with the voice inside his head, you're just a friend anyway. He cares about you yes, but only as a really good friend. Osamu is right, you should never be more than that. You're Kita's ex. And you don't date your friend's ex. So why break his heart further?

           (17.48) I'll go on the date. send me time and place.

That's the thing about making plans, the moment you make them something else comes up. Just the following day his phone rings, making his heart flutter when he sees your name.

“Hey.“ Your voice alone makes him smile. “I, uhm, I have a request.“

No beating around the bush. It makes Aran wonder if you've been hanging with Osamu so much you picked up his habits. “Oh, do ya?“

“Yeah. It’s is a bit awkward... Listen, I have a very important exam next week but my roommate's gonna have her boyfriend over for the entire weekend. Let's just say earplugs aren't helping and leave it at that, yeah? So, could I maybe crash at your place till then? I just need a quiet place to study. I can sleep on the couch! Or the floor, I really don't care!“

“'Course ya can,“ says Aran without hesitation.

This is how we finds himself sitting with a bunch of your notes in his lap, you leaning on his back explaining one of the questions. There are at least 4 empty mugs on the desk of his living room. He hopes you've left some coffee for breakfast.

He's amazed by how naturally you fit into his life. Almost like the space beside his shoes in the closet was meant for yours and the jacket hanging beside his was always meant to be there. You've even found your favourite mug already. The bedroll on the floor of the living room is the only reminder you're only crashing at his place for a couple of days. If you asked he'd let you stay longer.

The next morning you wake up the same time as him, sipping your first cup of coffee for the day, half asleep and draped in the hoodie he strategically left on the counter last night. You don't even raise a brow when he takes your phone and asks you to unlock it. “I'll send ya a playlist. Just some classical music. It's good for studyin'.“

“Sure,“ you answer in a groggy voice. “Have fun bouncing the ball around,“ you wave him off when he gets ready to leave.

Your sleepy face makes him smile for the rest of the day. Practice runs longer than usual and he returns late, stepping over two stairs at the time. The lights are still on when he enters but there's no answer when he calls out. He finds you behind the desk, so absorbed in your notes you don't notice his approach. When he places his hands on your shoulders you jump and shriek. “Aran!“ You remove your headphones. “Do you want to give me a heart attack?!“ He laughs and you smack his leg before he sits on the floor beside you.

“Is the material so interestin'?“ He looks over your many notes and pushes an empty mug to the edge of the table.

“I was listening to music,“ you rub your eyes. He notices they look a bit reddish. He takes your phone and clicks the play button and music continues. It only takes him a moment to recognise the piece.

“Dmitri Shostakovich, Waltz number 2. My mom's favourite. Used to dance to it with dad every Thursday.“

“That's sweet.“

He stands up and offers you his hand. “Come, ya need a break.“

You take his hand without question, only raising your brow when he places his left hand on your back. “Ya have to put your hand on my shoulder,“ he grins to your more than apparent confusion.

“Oh, right,“ you mumble. “I can't really dance you know. Not waltz at least.“

He gently holds your right hand in his and gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Don't worry, I'll teach ya. I start with my right foot forward, ya step back with yer left, yep, just like that, then my left foot forward,“ you jump in surprise when he turns you around, “and the first turn, now yer right foot forward, then left, and turn. See, it ain't hard.“

“Easy for you to say,“ you disagree, your eyes fixed on his feet and your mind preoccupied with trying not to step on his toes.

“Just follow my lead,“ grins Aran, gently pulling you a little closer.

He counts the steps and beats in his head and step after another you relax and follow his lead. All those Thursdays when dad wasn't home and mom pulled him into taking his place are finally paying off.

“I didn't know you could dance so well.“

Aran laughs at your words and gently pushes you into a twirl under his arm. “I guess there's a lot ya don't know,“ he says when he pulls you closer again. 

You follow his steps and soon begin catch on the slightest of his moves. Music changes but you don't let go so you dance on through his living room, off beat and saying quiet 'Sorry's,' every time you step on his toes. The way your brows furrow when you mess up is adorable but Aran doesn't give you the time to ponder over the mistake, pulling you into the next turn with ease and certainty of someone who has danced these steps countless times.

When the last song ends Aran leaves his hand on your back. You're so close, your hand in his. Looking and smiling at him. His eyes linger on your lips. It would take so little to close the space between you. So little that would change so much.

He pulls away.“ Do ya want tea?“

“Don't I always?“ you muse and head to put the water on, then open the cupboard but the last cups stand on the highest shelf and even on your tiptoes you can't reach them. Aran gently pushes you to the side and reaches for them. “Here.“

He pours himself a glass of water then pulls his phone out to check the time. Shit. The blind date. That's today! He glances over at you, making your tea, humming the melody of the last song you danced too. His heart drops.

What is he doing? He can't... This is getting out of control. He clenches the glass tighter. You're so close, he wouldn't even have to fully extend his arm to tap your shoulder. If, right here and now, he told you how he feels, how would you react? He lifts the glass to his lips. Probably not in the way he wants you to. A leap of faith, one that could take him anywhere. To the love of his life, he thinks watching you stir, or to the stone to shatter the friendship you both tried so hard to rebuild. A risk he doesn't have the courage to take.

The half empty glass he leaves in the sink draws your attention. You watch Aran head for the bedroom and you don't think much of it. It's his apartment, he can do what he wants. It's only when almost ten minutes pass that you decide to poke your head through the door to see what he's up to. The clothes he's wearing certainly aren't what one would wear for staying at home. “Going somewhere?“ you ask, curious as to why he's wearing a pretty alright polka dotted shirt.

“I have a date.“ He awkwardly fixes his collar. He doesn't want to meet your eyes.

There's a short silence before you answer. “A date? In this shirt?“

Your judgemental tone makes him turn. “What's wrong with this shirt?”

You scrunch up your nose. “It gives you that,“ you wiggle your fingers, “successful businessman in his forties looking for a wife vibes.“

“What's wrong with that?“

“What's wrong with-?! Aran! You're a professional athlete!“ You enter his bedroom and start looking through the closet. “Don't you get invited to fashion shows and stuff? One would expect you'd get some fashion sense purely through osmosis. Ouch!“ you yelp when he playfully smacks your shoulder. “Here, this one.“ You hand him a shirt of dark violet colour.

He takes it from your hands and inspects it. Then he hands it back. “I like this one better. And I'm runnin' late already anyway.“

You shrug and hang it back. “As you wish Mr. CEO. Wait, are you bringing your date back here?! Shit, I need to clean up my stuff.“

“Relax. I'm not bringin' anyone back. It's a blind date anyway. Ya keep studyin' alright? I'll be very disappointed if ya don't get the highest mark.“

“What do you mean a blind date? Damn, I didn't expect that from you player boy,“ you tease and it's a distraction enough for Aran to miss the forced smile.

“Osamu's idea.“

A small “Ah,“ is all you reply at first. “Get going then, being late is the worst you can be on the first date!“ You push him out of the room. “Have fun, don't say anything stupid, and don't only talk about volleyball.“

“It's not my first date y/n, gosh, stop bein' such a mom. Why are ya so excited anyway?“

“Probably too much caffeine.“

When he returns you're still up. You have two cups of tea ready before he even takes his shoes off.

“So, how was it?“ You push the cup across the table. “Come on, come on, no need to be shy,“ you grin, “tell me!“

Aran rolls his eyes at your sudden excitement. “It was nice, but nothin’ special,“ he tells you.

“Just nice?“ You tap your fingers on the table. Aran recognises the rhythm, it's one of your favourite songs. You sent it to him a few days ago. “Dating must be harder now that you're famous,“ you say, absent-mindedly. “Or is it easier?“

Before answering he takes a cracker from the bowl on the table. “Harder,“ is the answer he settles on. “Ya never know if they're attracted to ya or yer status. What about ya?“ He focuses on chewing crackers and taking small sips of tea, anything to keep from glancing at you.

“Ah you know,“ you sigh, “have enough other problems at the moment. College is messing with my head enough already. Why put another person in the mix?“ This time Aran doesn't miss how your voice trembles, and how you rub your forehead. Maybe you just have a light headache. You do look exhausted.

He changes the subject, feeling the talk of dating is quickly approaching dangerous territory. “How are ya feelin'? With studyin' and all?“

You lean on your hand. “Could be much worse. It's just a lot. Probably should have started with studying earlier.“

“But with work ya didn't even have enough time, right? Don't be too hard on yerself.“

“Actually, I quit. I thought it would help me focus on studying,“ you say upon seeing his questioning gaze.

“Ya know what will help ya study better? Some good night's sleep.“ He takes your empty cup. “I'll do the dishes, ya go ready for bed. No talkin' back,“ he points his finger to your face, “ my house, my rules. No stayin' up past midnight.“

“It's one in the morning.“

“Past time for ya to go to bed then young lady.“

After that you don't protest and before he even finishes doing the dishes you're snuggled on your bedroll and half asleep. Seeing you fills him with warmth. He could get used to this, coming home to you every night. He turns the lights off.

When he lays in his bed he wonders what's with the sinking feeling in his chest. There's anger. Why were you so excited for his date in the first place? Why did you look almost disappointed when he said it was nothing special? He hugs his pillow, thinking he'd much rather it was you in his arms. You must be soft. If only you'd be here, his nose filled with the scent of your shampoo. Teeth of shame sink in his heart. Why does he have to feel like this?

He wants you to be jealous. It's so damn childish, he knows that. It's something his teenager self felt when you hugged Kita after a game but only gave him a high five and a head pat.

How long is he going to keep lying to himself? He's in love with you. Not the you he remembers. You here and now. You sipping your fourth cup of coffee, you frantically flipping through notes wearing one of his old hoodies. That at least hasn't changed; you still steal any hoodie you can get your grabby little hands on. Not steal, he corrects himself, borrow. You borrow them. For an undetermined period of time.

He buries his face in the pillow. You're not the always cheerful manager he remembers anymore. But you are still you.

Tag list: @aonenthusiast @rosecaffelatte @kara-grayson04

[hockeylvr59]

It Started with a DM || Jake Debrusk

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Just another little something that demanded to be written. I was honestly debating on whether or not to write it and then JD went live today and obviously it was a sign.

Warnings: features quarantine as a setting, some cursing. 

Word Count: 3,828

~~~~~~~~~

Being quarantined alone was well, to put it simply, lonely. As a freelance photographer, you were for the most part out of work. You didn’t have a significant other to keep you company, there wasn’t space at your parents’ for you to go home, and your apartment didn’t allow pets. On top of all of that, sports were canceled. Specifically hockey. 

The combination of all of this left an empty hole in your heart and lots of time on your hands. Missing hockey was the whole reason you started watching twitch streams. If you couldn’t have hockey at least you could have hockey players playing video games. You’d started with Zach Hyman and Mitch Marner because Toronto was on a shortlist of teams you were fairly indifferent about. But after a week or so you found yourself watching David Pastrnak because he was on almost daily around dinnertime and it gave you something to listen to while you cooked. Watching Pasta’s streams had led to your introduction to Jake Debrusk and it was silly how the sound of his voice and his laugh brought a smile to your face. It was even sillier because you were absolutely not a Boston fan. Especially not after they knocked your Hurricanes out of the playoffs last season. 

Still, each time that your phone received a notification that Jake had come online you immediately stopped whatever you were doing to watch. You weren’t part of the group that regularly played with him and Pasta, nor did you even really participate in the chats, you just watched. And for a couple hours each time, you felt a little less alone. For weeks this continued, with you only popping in to chat to wish Jake’s sister a happy birthday when he let her take over his stream for a little bit. To be honest you were just grateful for something to do. Never did you expect to log on one day to find a whisper sitting in your inbox. 

Jdebrusk: Hey. Saw you’ve watched quite a few of my streams. Just wanted to reach out and say thanks. 

You weren’t shocked by the fact that he could see a list of viewers, you kind of expected that. What shocked you was the fact that he actually cared enough to reach out to some stranger who he had never actually interacted with before. You weren’t sure what had pushed you to respond, maybe it was the Southern friendliness or maybe it was something else but after typing and deleting a response multiple times you finally pressed send and then immediately closed your browser in a failed attempt to not freak out. 

Yourusername: Pretty sure I should be thanking you for sharing your time with us and making things a little easier. 

____

With no one you followed coming online to stream for a few days, you didn’t even check the site to see if Jake had responded. But when you next logged on and saw a message notification once again you found yourself getting nervous for no reason as you opened it. 

Jdebrusk: Well you’re welcome. Feel free to join in the chat anytime. Streaming has helped keep my family from driving me insane.  

Yourusername: I’m more of a lurker. It’s just easier. And family can be a lot but be grateful you aren’t just staring at 4 walls every day. 

Stepping away from your computer you grabbed your camera and attempted to go for a walk to take some aesthetic shots. As you slipped your memory card into the computer a while later, you noticed another notification. 

Jdebrusk:  Fair enough. You quarantining alone? 

Yourusername: yep. But I guess it could be worse. I could live where it’s snowing in May. 

Jdebrusk: Can I ask where you’re at?

For a split second you debated giving up this information but it didn’t seem like giving away your state could hurt. 

Yourusername: North Carolina. 

Jdebrusk: Nice! Cool state. Been there a few times. 

Yourusername: I’m aware. No need to rub in sweeping my team, Debrusk. 

Jdebrusk: And she’s got a sense of humor ladies and gentlemen. Well, or he...I guess I don’t even know that. AWKWARD. 

Yourusername: She works. 

Jdebrusk: Cool cool. So a hurricanes fan huh? 

Yourusername: Yeah. My family would probably disown me if they knew I was talking to a Bruin. 

Jdebrusk: Yowza. 

Yourusername: So if anyone asks I’m only here for Rocky appearances. ;)

Jdebrusk: She’s only here for my cat. Got it. 

You couldn’t explain why talking with Jake felt so easy but it did. When he came on to stream next you chirped him through whispers the entire time and seeing his reaction in real-time as he read them had you giggling uncontrollably. By the time he got off, you were just waiting for his comments to come streaming your way. Instead of some long-winded rant brushing off all your jabs you just got a single comment in response. 

Jdebrusk: It’s not fair that you can chirp me and I don’t know anything about you. 

Yourusername: What do you want to know? 

Jdebrusk: I mean your name would be a good start. Age might also be important...you’re not like 12 right? 

Yourusername: Would I be quarantining alone if I was 12? I’m 24. Y/N. 

Jdebrusk: right. Right. Y/N from Carolina. Who likes cats. Got it. Are you a student or…?

Yourusername: Freelance Photographer. 

Jdebrusk:  Alright. Nice. Do you do like weddings or nature stuff or what?

Yourusername: A little bit of everything. @wildflowerphotography is my company name if you want to go on insta and see some of my work. 

No reply followed and you tried not to dwell on it. Instead you poured a glass of wine, lit a few candles, and settled into your bathtub, trying to relax for bed. Still nagging thoughts lingered in your brain. Was sharing your company page too much? He probably wasn’t asking for you to promote yourself, he was just being polite right? Though you hated yourself for letting it bother you, you were the type of person who overthought everything...which thinking about it was probably why you were still single. 

Your anxious thoughts lingered and you tossed and turned all night before finally pulling yourself out of bed the next morning. It was only as you dug through your company dms, responding to a few potential clients that wanted you to take socially distant photos for them that you stumbled upon a familiar username. 

Jdebrusk: You took all of those? Holy shit that’s talent. 

The timestamp showed the message was sent only twenty minutes after you gave him the username and you sighed to yourself before chuckling at the fact that Jake was too lazy to switch back to twitch to respond. 

Wildflowerphotography: Thanks. I’m really proud of them all. 

It was still early in the morning so there was no way he was awake with the two hour time difference so after making yourself some breakfast you took another short walk, trying anything to get your mind off of the loneliness that felt worse today than most days. Your mood had definitely been a rollercoaster recently with higher peaks and lower lows than normal. It was something you were trying to manage the best you could but sometimes it was just hard. 

With the rest of your afternoon spent binging a random tv show you didn’t even look at your phone until dinner time, but waiting for you was another dm from the Canadian hockey player. 

Jdebrusk: You should be. 

Jdebrusk: So listen...this is probably weird but can I get your number so I can stop wading through a bunch of dms and whispers I don’t care about and just talk to you? 

It was a fair question but to be blunt, today was probably the worst day for him to ask because your anxiety-riddled brain kept wanting to know why he even cared about talking to you. You didn’t know what he was looking for from all of this but your mind immediately assumed the worst. So instead of just being open with him, you blew him off, completely ignoring his message. And when he logged onto twitch next, though you wanted to watch, you forced yourself to avoid that as well. 

Three days passed before another message appeared. 

Jdebrusk: You okay? You didn’t watch the last stream. I’m sorry if I fucked up. I’ll back off if you want...I just want to know that you’re okay. 

The concern he was expressing was honestly something you didn’t expect and you found yourself crying as you read it over and over. Jake was nothing but a joyous person and the last thing you wanted was to bring him down with the mess of your own mind. 

Wildflowerphotography: you didn’t fuck up. I just...this is all on me okay. 

With your phone left open to your message string with him you watched as little dots appeared before vanishing repeatedly. Eventually a new message appeared simply containing a string of numbers composing a phone number. Jake was putting the ball in your court and a few minutes later the part of you that was aching to hear his voice won the mental war and you found yourself dialing the number. 

“Y/N?” Jake questioned the second he answered and a shaky sob slipped from your throat at the sound of him speaking your name for the first time. “What’s going on?” He murmured and by his tone you could tell he was both confused and concerned. You wanted to speak, wanted to pretend everything was fine but you’d already gone over the edge and it was too late for that now. Another sob spilled through your body and you faintly heard Jake mumble a curse. “Do you want me to just talk to you? I’ll just keep talking okay and you can hang up if you want.” He offered. And talk he did, you weren’t even sure what he was telling you, you were more focused on the grounding sound of his voice itself rather than the content of the words he was speaking. Eventually your breathing steadied out and the elephant sitting on your chest lessened allowing you to murmur his name. 

The second he heard your voice he paused mid-story.

“Thank you.” You whispered into the phone. 

“Are you okay?” He inquired, his voice tentative like he was worried anything he said would push you back over the edge. 

“Better.” You admitted. “Not great but better.” 

“I’ll take better.” He insisted. “It’s nice to actually hear your voice.” He added, causing your cheeks to flame up unconsciously. You opened your mouth to apologize again for your breakdown only to be stopped as he insisted you not do so. “But really...are you okay?” He repeated his question and you sighed. 

“It’s been a rough few days mentally for me.” You admitted. “But I will be okay.” You added. 

“Okay enough to stop ignoring me?” He teased and when you let out another shaky breath he backtracked. “It’s okay, I get it. I was just worried. You don’t have to talk to me ever again if you don’t want to.” 

“I do want to.” You breathed. “Talk to you that is.” As if he sensed you had more to say, Jake remained quiet, only the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. 

“I guess...you should probably know that I tend to overthink things. I want to talk to you. Hearing your voice makes my entire day. I just...I guess I’m just confused on why you want to talk to me. What your intentions are, etc. And you...you don’t have to answer that just...that’s where my head is at.” 

Jake was silent for a minute before his voice reached back through the phone. 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know what this is either. But I’m intrigued by you and I guess my intention is just to get to know you better if you’ll let me.” Jake’s honesty was refreshing and you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “And if I can make your day just by talking...well that’s a pretty sweet bonus.” 

______

Quarantine continued to drag on, paused only by some carefully planned photo sessions with your distance lenses getting extra abuse. You continued talking to Jake, mostly through text but with the occasional phone call. He’d whine about the crap he was getting from his sister when he’d disappear to talk to you but he’d insist that it was worth it in the next breath. Between the streams, the phone calls, the texts and the memes he’d send you, suddenly you felt a lot less alone, at least emotionally. 

A month since your first phone call had passed before Jake sent you a text that made your heart stop. 

JD:  So how come I send you pictures all the time and yet I still don’t know what you look like? 

For weeks he had been sending you photos of him snuggling with Rocky or hanging with Jordyn and there had even been a shirtless workout pic or two which had left you debating whether a cold shower was appropriate. At the same time, you hadn’t worked up the courage to send him any photos in return other than ones you took of nature on your walks or snippets from photoshoots you’d done. Trying to downplay it all you sent back a teasing response. 

YN: What can I say I’m a behind the lens person. 

JD: Y/N...c’mon I just wanna see how beautiful you are. 

Leaving him on ‘read’ you sighed and bit your lip not sure how to respond. You were afraid if he knew what you looked like that he wouldn’t want to talk to you anymore and you weren’t sure what you’d do if you lost something that had sort of become a saving grace in this crazy time. 

JD: Is this one of those insecurity things? Is that why I haven’t seen you yet? 

It was starting to amaze you how well Jake could read you. It had been a long time since anyone was able to see through the walls you put up, see behind the camera that you hid behind, but it had only been a month or so and already Jake was starting to read the silences between the words. 

JD: Do you want me to get Jordyn to pump you up? A picture isn’t going to change what I think of you…

YN: You don’t know that. 

JD: C’mon YN give me a little more credit than that. You know I’m not that shallow. I like you okay. I like the woman that chirps me. I like the woman that listens to me and always knows what to say. I like the woman that sees me as Jake and not Boston Bruin Jake Debrusk. And since none of that is based on your physical appearance I’m going to like you no matter what you look like. 

YN: Promise? 

JD: Yeah Y/N, I promise. 

Scrolling through your camera roll you attempted to decide on which of the few photos of yourself made you look at least somewhat pretty before biting the bullet and attaching it to the text conversation. The moment you hit send you winced and your anxiety didn’t ebb until your phone rang in your hand. 

“You’re stunning.” Jake’s voice breathed lowly the second the line connected. “Just as beautiful outside as you are inside which I wasn’t sure was even possible.” By now you knew when Jake was trying to play something up versus when he was being genuine and his voice now was 100% the latter. But taking compliments about your body was never something you’d been good at so you didn’t know what to say in response. 

“I hope you believe me.” He added. “I knew you wouldn’t believe a text even if I sent it 100 times so I hope you can believe me, hearing me say it.” 

“I...thanks Jake.” You finally mumbled. You did believe that he was being honest, he had no reason not to be with you living thousands of miles apart, but at the same time, you still felt uneasy about it for reasons you’d never fully be able to explain. 

___

Tearing down the last barrier of anonymity seemed to open up a new world between you and Jake. If it was even possible you communicated more frequently, adding facetime calls to your usual methods. Seeing the way he looked at you while you talked sent heat flooding through your body and you quickly came to the realization that you were falling hard for him. 

That knowledge was terrifying and once again you wanted to pull away, protect yourself from getting hurt. But then Jordyn stole her brother’s phone and called you, raving about how when all of this was over you had to agree to meet her brother in person because she had never seen him like this over anyone. Talking with Jordyn reminded you that Jake didn’t have to go to all of this work, didn’t have to deal with your crazy emotions if he didn’t think you were worth the time and effort. It may be a pandemic but surely there were women in Edmonton willing to break social distancing rules if it meant scoring someone as wonderful as Jake. But yet each and every night he was on the phone with you, taking the time to get to know all of the things that make you tick, your likes and dislikes, your hopes and dreams. 

And it wasn’t just Jordyn that knew about you. You’d been on the phone with Jake when both of his parents came outside and when he’d asked them to come back in a minute because he was talking to you, they just called out your name in greeting and waved. 

“Your parents know my name?” You’d asked and Jake ducked his head shyly before replying. “I mean yeah…” He stated. “My mom can’t wait to meet you.” You were sure from Jake’s point of view that it was probably comical how wide your eyes went at his statement. 

“Jake what...what is this...are we just friends or…?” It wasn’t a question that you ever anticipated asking but it was out there now. From the other side of the screen, you watched Jake adjust his ball cap over his overly long hair. 

“Fuck...Y/N…” Jake started and you opened your mouth to assure him that friends was fine, that it was what you wanted too because if you didn’t put your heart out there than you couldn’t get hurt. Before you could speak though Jake continued. “No...we’re not just friends. I think you know that as well as I do.” He admitted. “I don’t know exactly what we are. I...I was hoping to meet you in person when I asked if you wanted to be my girlfriend. I know...I know that none of this is ideal because even when this is over there’s going to be the whole long-distance thing but...I can’t deny that I have feelings for you y/n. I don’t want to deny it.” 

“I don’t want to deny it either.” You said softly, fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean...if you’re willing to put up with my emotional baggage…” You shrugged. 

“You have feelings for me too?” Jake questioned, his normal confidence suppressed. “I have no problems supporting you through dealing with your baggage if you’re willing to do the same with mine. I know I’ve fucked up in the past as a boyfriend and I don’t want to do that to you.” 

“I think I’m kinda sorta falling for you.” You stated anxiously, unable to meet Jake’s gaze through the screen until he breathed your name. 

“So can we agree we’re something more than friends and that we’ll figure out the details as part of returning to the new normal?” 

“Yeah...we can agree to that.” You nodded. 

_______

The new normal had finally arrived and that meant that you were going to see Jake in person for the first time. The two of you had been “more than friends” for what felt like forever now but had realistically been a few months but with each passing day you knew you wanted more. You still didn’t know how it would all work with him playing in Boston and you owning a company in North Carolina but you were ready to figure it out together if it meant that you could finally have him for real. 

Jake’s plane was scheduled to land in ten minutes and you were running so far behind. Your senior picture photoshoot had run over and traffic was a mess. You’d texted Jake apologizing but upon getting your text he’d quickly waved your concerns off declaring that he’d just get an uber and meet you at your apartment. It would be a better first meeting anyway because you wouldn’t be time-restricted by parking or pick up zone rules. 

When you finally pulled into your parking lot you checked your phone to see if Jake had arrived yet. It wasn’t until you reached the front steps of your building that you noticed someone sitting there, bags beside them. He looked up at the same time that your brain processed that it was him and he was really there and tears instantly prickled in your eyes. As you rushed to close the distance, Jake stood to catch you as you threw yourself at him. 

No words needed to be said as you tugged his mouth down to your own, kissing him for the very first time. It was nothing like you had expected but at the same time it was everything and at that moment you knew that this was it, you were in love. It had been such a long wait, but the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, his lips against yours was well worth it. It was cheesy but you knew that the physical chemistry was only this strong because you already knew each other inside and out and now that he was here, now that he was finally yours, things could only get better. 

Being with Jake despite the distance wouldn’t be easy but now that you knew the way he felt, the way he tasted, the scent of his cologne, you were willing to do whatever it took to make it. If you could fall in love during a global pandemic, you could do anything and it would make a great story to tell the grandkids one day about how they only came to exist because of a direct message on a streaming site while the world was quarantined. 

[stellar-imagines]

HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝S/O doing the WAP dance.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Takami Keigo ]

「Headcanons of Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki and Hawks reacting to their S/O doing the WAP Dance.」 Warning: Slightly suggestive themes at the end?

MIDORIYA IZUKU

♤ You know that this boy gets flustered super easily but you did it anyway. You've been practicing alone most of the time because you know that if Midoriya is in the same room as you while you did this, you'd give him a heart attack. However, it's not like he has no idea about this trend. It was hard to miss, especially when it was all over social media. You were with him when you first saw the dance in tiktok. Cuddled up on the couch and holding onto your phone with Midoriya while you scrolled through your tiktok.

♤ To be honest, you didn't plan on telling your boyfriend that you have been diligently practicing this dance. So how he found out was completely by accident. You didn't expect him to come to your room on that day. Midoriya was hesitant when you didn't answer and decided to excuse himself, wondering what you're up to. There was that music playing and his eyes were instantly glued to your form, watching your hips sway, kicking your leg, and moving completely in sync.

♤ His cheeks were very red and he accidentally closed the door a bit too loud behind him. You had stopped to see that he was standing by your door. Instead of feeling embarrassed, you seemed to be quite happy to see him here. The song itself was downright scandalous, he knows it, you know it, everyone knows it. That itself was enough to make him flush red but seeing you dancing like that was just the icing on the cake. You teased him, asking if he liked it and if he thought you did well or not.

♤ Poor boy, he's too embarrassed to even respond, let alone look at you. He stutters a reply and it was really hard to catch but you didn't seem to care what he was saying, more focused on the look on his face. You were grinning from ear to ear, finding his expression too cute. When he finished talking, you quickly pecked him on the cheek as thanks. Just when you thought you could move on with your day, Midoriya pulls you to his lap and you were both now seated on the bed, he had his face buried into your neck as he muttered.

”You’re just too sexy and cute.” 

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

☆ Bakugou didn't really seem to care about the trends. He's the type of person who would be informed of the trends but never doing anything about it. On the other hand, you seemed to be interested and eager to try it out. Bakugou thinks that there's nothing really unique about the trend since it's just dancing to music which is something pretty common. However, he's not gonna judge you or anyone on it. Not because he respects people but because he just doesn't really give a fuck about it.

☆ The lyrics to the song were lewd, that was Bakugou noted but he didn't seem to care that much. He's heard it countless times on the radio, social media, and from your music player. You practiced the dance in secret, wanting to surprise your boyfriend as well as impress him with your skills. Bakugou has only seen the dance a couple of times and he doesn't really remember any of the moves. But from the lyrics, anyone could tell that it was pretty suggestive. But this was perfect for you, a perfect chance for you to take his breath away.

☆ He can't take his eyes away from you, not when you were wearing those leggings that hugged your delicious skin. Bakugou gets comfortable on your bed and watches as you bounce back and forth. He finds himself thinking that this trend wasn't so dumb after all. He lost it when you got down and moved your hips, making your ass shake. Boy is already getting off your bed the moment you finished your little dance and you didn't even need to ask for his opinion on what he thought about your dancing.

☆ The look in his eyes says it all and if that didn’t give away what he thought, that shit-eating grin sure did. You still asked him whether he enjoyed it or not — even though you already knew. He picked you up with ease, arms around your stomach as he stared up at you. Bakugou openly voices his opinion, telling you that he enjoyed it and was a bit surprised that you were practicing this behind his back. He moved his hands to grope your ass which made you squeak.

"So how about you show me that again one more time baby?"

TODOROKI SHOUTO

♡ Todoroki isn't that active in social media. His phone is only used to send messages and receive calls. So the chances of him knowing about this trend were quite low. You had planned on surprising him with your moves and during the time you were practicing, he was starting to hear about this trend where people dance to this somewhat suggestive song. Todoroki went to ask you about it first, knowing that you probably had a rough idea of what it was.

♡ Of course, being unable to deny him, you enlighten him. You showed him a few videos in tiktok of people dancing to the beat of the music. At first, he has his attention more on the dancers instead of the music. Sure, the dance was a bit — quite suggestive. And similar to Bakugou, he thinks that people dancing to music is pretty common. It wasn't until you told him about the lyrics that he understood why the choreography was like that. He feels a bit embarrassed, thinking that he was a bit too slow with realizing that.

♡ He was confused when you dragged him to your room, saying that you wanted to show him something. Todoroki thought that it was something you had bought but when you told him to sit on your bed while you get ready, he was starting to think that it was something else. You were hyping yourself up and began to play the music. He already has a rough idea of what you were going to do. But it didn't stop him from being taken by surprise. 

♡ He's staring at you a bit too much that you think he hasn't even blinked at all. Todoroki was entranced, completely mesmerized with your smooth and fluid movements. If you looked closer, you could see that his cheeks were slightly red. He was surprised that you had been scheming this but he certainly liked it. Once it was over, you skipped over to him with a grin on your face, happy to see his reaction. You ask if he was surprised and if he enjoyed the show or not?

"Is it too much to ask you to do that one more time?"

HAWKS (TAKAMI KEIGO)

♧ Bird man knows his memes and trends. This guy probably convinced you to do it at some point. You'd both be watching the video together and he would jokingly say that you would look hot dancing like that. Hawks is a tease so you just rolled your eyes at his words, telling him to stop messing around with you like that. He will tease you, saying that you would look hot and sexy. 

♧ He was probably just teasing you but you saw it as a challenge. You decided to practice in secret while he was out during hero work. The dance is very fast-paced, but you were determined to learn it. After a lot of cursing and hiding your bruises from your lover, you mastered it. You couldn't even wait to show it off to him. During practice, you thought about just giving up because of how embarrassing it was to be dancing like this.

♧ But when you remember that teasing smirk Hawks, you feel the need to put him in his place. And what better way than to take him by surprise than to master this dance and show it to him? You couldn't really think of anything better than this honestly. Since Hawks was out doing Hero work, you always had the apartment to yourself and never had to worry about him catching you practicing. Sometimes you'd be surprised by him hovering in front of the window on days where he finished work early or when he was given the opportunity to leave early.

♧ After all that cursing, blaming the song being too fast-paced and a lot of ice packs later, you finally mastered it and you were eager to show Hawks your results. The moment he got home, you dragged him to the living room and cleared up some things. And oh, the look on his face was better than what you imagined. Hawks has his eyes focused on your every movement. Watching you pop your ass, move your hips, and bouncing your ass, he was really impressed.

"You gonna put that skill to use somewhere else, babe?"

Total: 1514 words Published: 17.09.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ This is one super trending dance in tiktok. Every single day, I would see this in my tiktok at least once. But we hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Hope you don't mind our choice of BNHA boys. And hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[renaxwrites]

Hiii can I ask for a hc of what it is like to be in a full-blown fight or heated argument with Tsukki, Akaashi, and Hajime? It can be angst or fluff hehe sorry if it’s a bit random hehe Thank u in advance! 💜😁

Fights -  (Tsukishima, Akaashi, Iwaizumi)

a/n: my heart is too (soft) for angst I can never handle it lmao

     warnings: slight angst, some cussing

tsukishima:

Okay it’s normal to playfully banter and bicker with each other, but when it’s a full-blown argument, it’s a whole other level

It’s clear that he needs his privacy, which includes his personal things

You were doing your normal cleaning routine, and noticed something out of its normal place. His most prized possession: his headphones. So imagine the feeling when you trip over something, sending his headphones flying, and bouncing off a hard surface, breaking them.

Nothing made you feel worse, but you already placed an order online for a newer version of the ones he had. Gosh you had never bought something so fast in your life

But of course the ONE time it happened, it was when he wanted them the most. OFC!!

He had looked in the only two places it could be, and since they weren’t there, he confronted you. So you confessed, cause obviously it would be worse to lie.

You were gonna replace them, but before you got to tell him that…man did he blow UP…he was PISSED to say the least

“The hell did you touch them for? Better yet, why were you in there in the first place? You really don’t know when to mind your own business, do you? It’s like you always do the opposite of what I say!”

You’re trying not to raise your voice either, but of course you needed to get your side of the story in

Was trying his best not to scream at you, but his voice would definitely be raised

However, he would never call you any degrading names. He absolutely drinks his “respecting women juice”. He just didn’t have his coffee before this, however.

Honestly, once he says his piece, he goes to a different room, so he can think and cool off. One thing about Tsukki is that he sometimes needs time alone, which you always respect.

Once you two are ready to talk to each other again, you approach him and explain what happened in a calm manner. You apologize for damaging his headphones. He is more of an actions over words kind of guy. He in turn cups your face in his hands and is sorry for raising his voice instead of hearing you out first

He then wraps his arms around you and puts his face in the crook of your neck. 

Before y’all go into cuddle mode, you raise his face and show him the new headphones you ordered for him

Powers all his love into a big ass kiss on your forehead

THEN y’all cuddle

akaashi:

Honestly, Akaashi is a reasonable, respectful king™ that always applies common sense before doing anything irrational, so it would take a lot as his s/o to get him to that level of anger

Like, wayy worse than Bokuto

The only things that could reach him to that level is if someone is harassing or putting down his s/o or anyone he is close to (teammates, family, etc). OR, if you are purposely putting down your self-worth in front of him

Since Akaashi plays, you often would go to his matches to support them, and you would see girl volleyball players for their tournaments as well.

Most of them were tall, lean, and have an overall fit figure from years of hardcore training, and just the sight of them would make you feel insecure about yourself. You wouldn’t tell your bf, so that he wouldn’t be worried

But after seeing the vb girls again, you were then self-motivated to look that way too, but you were going the wrong way about it

At first, Akaashi didn’t notice. But then, he started noticing you eating less and working out more. You even softly refused to go to your favorite fast-food spot for a spontaneous food run. If anything, when he mentioned it, you were suddenly off the couch and ready to work out again

You accidentally left your phone open while you went to change into your workout clothes. He felt guilty for even having to look through it, but he needed to get to the bottom of this. Immediately he saw your search history, full of “how to get thinner”s, “extreme dieting”s, “ideal body shape workout”s.

Alright, he’s had enough

He is ready to burst through your door, but the gentleman he is, knocks first

When you say “come in”…

BOOM

“Why am I seeing all this bullshit on your internet history?”

You don’t see the problem with wanting to get healthier, or thinner in your mind. Like those volleyball girls

“Babe. Don’t you ever. EVER. Compare yourself to anyone else!! Those girls have been training for years. It takes years to get that way. But skipping meals, eating less, and working out more? Constantly measuring and weighing yourself? Dammit, I must be failing as a boyfriend if you’re feeling this way.

“Being skinny is NOT the same thing as being healthy! Babe, you don’t need to be thin to be beautiful. You are perfect the way you are. Now, if you want to follow a healthier lifestyle, I’ll help you. I can show you how to properly do it. Okay? Please, for me?”

He envelops you in his arms and rests his chin on your head, rubbing your back as you let a few tears leak out. He picks up your chin and gives you a kiss.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?”

“Yes, please”

Best ice cream you’ve ever had

iwaizumi:

Iwa is a MAN that just honestly wants to provide you the best, what he feels you deserve

Sometimes he feels insecure, feeling at times he could do better, causing an inner frustration with himself, which causes him to unintentionally snap one day

The two of you had your 1 year anniversary in a week, and he had never been so sure of anything than wanting to spend the rest of his days with you

So he wanted to finally tell you ‘I love you’ with a promise ring

Now, rings aren’t the cheapest thing in the world, and definitely not the one he had in mind. But you deserved it.

He had 90 percent of the money for the ring, but where was he going to get the other 10 percent? In a week? And the poor boy didn’t want any help, he wanted to be assured that he could do something for you knowing HE did it. So, naturally, he was getting stressed out.

You noticed how stressed he was getting as the days of your one-year started getting closer. He was intently texting every second of any break he had, and it started to worry you.

3 days left: He says, “I’m fine.” 2 days: “Don’t worry about it, love.”

The night before: when it all caved in.

You decided to confront him about it. “Iwa, what are you so worried about? You’ve been more concerned about your phone then telling me… is something wrong? Did I upset you?”

He is still texting

“IWA.”

He finally looks up at you. “I’m trying to do something, y/n. Can you just LET me?”

You put your hands on your hips.

Oh boy, was he in for it.

“What is so important that you’ve been more interested in your stupid ass messages than you are with me? You’re over me already, aren’t you? And right before our damn anniversary? You could have at least let me know when you first got over me!”

Iwa tries to get his brain cells together, but just goes off.

He gets up. “If you MUST know, I’ve been trying for MONTHS. MONTHS! To save up for this goddamn ring tomorrow that probably isn’t even good enough for you! I’m so pathetic! You deserve someone who can get you anything you wanted right then and there! You deserve someone better than me, who can give you what I can’t! I’m trying my fucking best to be what you deserve, but how? I can’t even buy you a simple, fucking ring so I can finally tell you that I love you!”

You’re both in tears.

“You love me?”

“More than anything else in this world.”

You let out a sob and rush over to him and you embrace one another. You simultaneously look up and brush off the other’s tears.

“Iwa, I don’t need any fancy things to be happy. I just need you, all of you. There is nothing or nobody that can change the way I feel for you. I love you.”

You kiss and continue to embrace, moving it to the couch to wallow in each other’s presence, all through the early morning

Midnight hits.

“Happy anniversary, y/n.” “Happy anniversary, Iwa.”

[katcadecascade]

ORV DND Main Scenario One

This might be a good (read: horrible) way to keep track of my notes for this Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Dnd styled game. 

Anyway here’s how it goes.

It’s the GM and five Player Characters. 

On a bus ride from the airport to Disneyland is when the world goes dark and a dokkaebi pops in to start the main scenario. Canon script happens, as in NPCs freaking out, one even offering money, the president’s emergency broadcast only for the dokkaebi to blow up their heads. 

Then a message appears in the air. 

Main Scenario # One: Prove Your Value - Kill one or more living organisms

Roll for perception. 

Each PC takes notice of something. A spider with a fly caught in its web. A cockroach by their feet. A potted plant. Someone’s cat is looking a rat. 

Everyone on the bus still hasn’t moved and thus the dokkaebi returns to yell at them and show them another channel’s successful scenario. A screen appears to show a classroom of girls’ heads blowing up for failing the scenario. There is only one survivor, a girl pushes another out the window.

An NPC shakily says ‘I hope they’re on the first floor.’

Yeah, they weren’t on the first floor. The screen displays the name of the sole survivor, an NPC we may potentially meet in the future. 

That’s when the GM ask me to roll. No clarification to what for, just asks me to roll.

I do. I got a natural one.

The GM was either frowning at me or silently laughing, I could not tell cause I was too busy feeling like a failure. 

Anyway, the GM nicely tells us that I learn nothing from this.

That’s when I remembered, when the GM first started brainstorming this game, I suggested that what if I have the prophet attribute and I have to roll to get a good divination, that way I control myself from knowing too much for reading ORV. 

I honestly didn’t think my suggestion would make it in the game cause the GM is changing the formula or something. I dunno, we’re only getting started. 

Back to the game. 

Two PC easily squish the insects. A third is making their way to the potted plant. The last two, me and the other PC, share an uneasy glance together before looking at the cat. 

That’s when a fight breaks out. The GM bluntly describes that a guy with the nazi tattoo and a confederate guy is kicking the shit out of some defenseless person. An NPC yells at them to stop but there’s like canon script dialogue about new world order or survival of the fittest and stuff and that NPC gets shaken up. 

With time running out, me and the other PC decide not to kill the cat and go start attacking the two NPCs. As we’re beating them up, that third NPC pulls out a gun.

Four out of five PCs proceed to jokingly whine/complain to the GM about how  we couldn’t bring a gun too. This was about pregame shenanigans about what’s in our inventory. Where four us were basically all dogs trying to steal shoes but the GM kept taking it away from us. But like with guns. 

And so the two other PCs decide to get the gun while me and the other PC finish killing off our own targets. 

Time runs out, the dokkaebi returns and starts blowing up the heads of those who didn’t kill a living organism. 

Four of us PCs start freaking out about our last party member. Agonizing and fearing the worst as all the heads are blown and bodies collapse onto the bus floor. 

The fifth PC just stares at us and says, “Guys, I’m here. I smashed the potted plant.”

Apparently while most of us were occupied with killing people, we did not notice when that PC fulfilled the scenario.  

So us five survive the Main Scenario. 

Canon script proceeds to happen, the dokkaebi congratulating us, awarding us coins, the coin tutorial, the outside world has monsters, and how we get the chance to become incarnations to sponsoring constellations. 

As the GM prepares to send us our Constellation Sponsor Selections, we are asked to roll for something else first.

GM tells us, “Roll for emotionally instability check.”

Collectively, we all went ‘oh no.’

We do and basically if we roll low, we’re super depressed, if high, we’re super panicky. I think this is just to get more an idea on how to roleplay our characters. I got the depression roll by the way. 

So for the Constellation Sponsor Selection, my character got three options.

Two were original characters/constellations and the third was the Savior of Corruption.

We all took turns on talking one on one with the GM. When it was my turn I immediately asked if they knew about the Savior of Corruption. Last time I recalled, the GM was around the Absolute Throne arc so I was surprised to see the archangel this early. 

Anyway, I decided to go for one of the original constellations, Little Light Dragon of the Sunshine, a reference to Yang Xiao Long from RWBY, but here her name is Goldilocks. 

So keeping in mind that only me and the GM know about ORV, a bunch of different theories are swirling in my head.

I end up galaxy braining, “Are we going to see Kim Dokja?”

“What no,” GM pointed out, “Wrong continent, you’re in America.”

“Oh right... Wait, is Anna Croft here?”

With a Cheshire smile, GM asks, “I don’t know is she?”

I proceed to internally scream. 

So in character, we introduce ourselves, loot the bodies, push back any existential crisis in our heads, and make our ways to Disneyland because that’s where the plot is leading us. 

On the highway exit before reaching our destination, the bus is out of gas and stops moving. 

That’s when the GM happily begins Main Scenario # Two but that’s also where we called it a night. 

I am so nervous about everything in this game like omg. The coins are so stressful too. I only have 900 but I want to use it for my status, either for strength or stamina. I still can’t believe I got a natural one for the prophet roll, that would’ve been so useful but like it’s probably a good thing I did so I won’t expect anything from the plot. 

Anyway this is gonna be so much fun. Thanks for reading!

[hobeymakar]

Unapologetically | C. Makar Part 1

Chapter word count: 3,526

A/N: Title from the song Unapologetically by Kelsea Ballerini. This is my first chaptered fic in a long time and my first written on here, so please be kind. This fic is based off a set of very vivid reoccurring dreams I’ve had over the last couple of months that involve Cale and like the true psycho I am, I wrote the big things that happened in those dreams down. Then I decided recently to just turn it to a fic, so this is pretty self-indulgent. Is it possibly narcissistic of me to write a fic about me? Maybe, but I’m gonna write it anyway. This first chapter is gonna be a lil boring and weird because it has a lot of time skips but Chapter 2 will be much more exciting and way better

Shoutouts: @pizzasloot and @hockey-and-wine for being my biggest cheerleaders for writing for this fic in the gc and also shoutout to @grenawitka​ for always keeping the gc lit. I love you girls!

Warnings: explicit language, alcohol use

-

Tatyana “Taty” Marie Ventura or “Ace” as she is now being known as, never thought that when she started a podcast in the comfort of her Rhode Island home, that she would kind of blow up. Taty started the Ace of Hockey podcast because she wanted a career in hockey media and wanted to do it her way, being unapologetically herself. She started the podcast and started messaging hockey players and other athletes in hopes that they would come onto the podcast to talk about diversity and inclusion in the sport.

That’s how she finds herself on an early October evening receiving a message from Cale Makar on how he’s a fan of the podcast. She internally screams because she never thought an actual hockey player would listen to the podcast. She assumed only hockey fans would listen to the podcast and that it would never reach the notoriety of other hockey podcasts.

From: calemakar_

Hey, just wanted to say that I’m a big fan of your podcast. Buddy of mine showed it to me and I think it’s fantastic. It’s helping me learn how to be a better ally

To: calemakar_

Thank you so much, that means a lot honestly!

From: calemakar_

You’re welcome. I’ve been showing it to the team and they think it’s great for them to learn how to be better allies

To: calemakar_

Wow, that means so much! I just want people to know that hockey is great but it would be so much better if it became inclusive to everyone regardless of sex, gender, race, ethnicity, religion, etc. I just want hockey to really be for everyone

From: calemakar_

That's what we all want. We don't want anyone to feel like they can't play or enjoy hockey because of who they are

She doesn't know how to keep the conversation because she's awkward and just lets the dm sit there. She turns her attention to the latest hockey news and figuring out who's gonna be her next guest for the podcast.

A few hours later, she sees a follow request on her personal IG account and not the podcast account. She sees it's from Cale and is confused on why he would want to follow her personal account. She barely posts stuff about the podcast on there and uses it more to keep up with family with the occasional posts promoting the podcast and the guests. She accepts the request and doesn't think anything of it.

A few days later, she notices that he's been liking her posts and viewing her stories. He's been seeing her interact with family and friends and she still doesn't understand why he cares enough to keep up with her personal account. It starts becoming weird when he adds her on snapchat.

She sends him a dm on instagram to make sure it's actually him and not someone pretending to be him.

To: calemakar_

This might sound totally weird but did you just add me on snapchat?

From: calemakar_

Yeah I'm sorry. Josty thought it would be funny to hijack my phone and add you

To: calemakar_

No need to apologize, I just wanted to make sure it was actually you and not someone trying to be you to catfish girls

From: calemakar_

Yeah no, definitely my account

She accepts him as a friend on Snapchat and sends him a message.

To: Cale Makar

Hope it's okay I added you back

From: Cale Makar

Yeah, that's cool. You didn't have to tho. Don't want you to feel like you had to

To: Cale Makar

Trust me I added you back because I wanted to. I don't just accept anybody

She hits send before she can even think twice about it but then she reads it back and wants the ground to swallow her whole. She panics as she watches the delivered turn into a read and the little bubbles show up saying he's typing. It feels like forever before Cale sends a response back.

From: Cale Makar

Well I'm glad you didn't add me back out of pity

She doesn't know how to respond to that right away so she opens up other messages and posts updates on her work on her story. She goes back to the messages and starts typing a response, not wanting to leave him on read forever.

To: Cale Makar

Why would anybody do that?

She exits out of it and hopes that her attempts at extending a conversation aren't met with disappointment.

From: Cale Makar

I admit you got me there

To: Cale Makar

I get people to say that a lot

From: Cale Makar

Never picked you as the type to brag

To: Cale Makar

There's a lot of layers to me and a lot of things you don't know about me

From: Cale Makar

Well I hope I get to know more about you

She blinks multiple times not knowing if the message was actually real. After blinking several times, she realizes the message was real and she lets out a squeal. Is he actually flirting with her? She pinches herself because she must be dreaming. There's no way her favorite hockey player and crush is flirting with her. Shit like that doesn't happen to her! She has zero game and has been on a grand total of zero dates in her life. She has had zero boyfriends and girlfriends in her life, so this is something brand new for her.

Maybe she's reading it wrong? Maybe he's just being polite and isn't actually flirting. She decides it's better not to stress it and just go with the flow. 

That's how she approaches the next couple of weeks with her pumping out content for her podcast, working her actual day job, and working on her social media game for the podcast. She also dms tons of people she sees as potential guests on the podcast. 

Her conversations with Cale become more frequent as she eventually finds herself sending him snaps daily. He actually feels comfortable enough to comment on her posts on her personal IG page now and she honestly doesn't know how this is all even real.

Like before she's not stressing it and is going with the flow. However, on the day of Cale's 22nd birthday, she gets hit with a message that causes her to freak out a little.

From: Cale Makar

Hey, is it cool if I got your number? It's much easier if I can just text you. I like you and want to keep getting to know you more

She hyperventilates because she has never had another human being shoe this much interest in her, her whole life. She pinches herself to make sure it's real and it really is real. Cale Makar actually asked for her number. She doesn't know if she should be jumping for joy or preparing for something to go wrong. This is completely uncharted waters for her and she doesn't know if she should go with her heart or her mind. Her mind is telling her not to do it, but her heart is telling her to do it. After a minute, she decides to go with her heart.

To: Cale Makar

Yeah, that's totally cool! (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

She sees a text from an unknown number a minute later pop up on her phone

From: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hey, it's Cale

She saves the number under the name "Cale 🥰" and types out a response

To: Cale 🥰

Hey, happy birthday btw! Hope you're having fun!

From: Cale 🥰

Thank you I'm in Calgary rn with my family

To: Cale 🥰

Glad you're having fun with them

From: Cale 🥰

Thank you it's good to be back home

To: Cale 🥰

I can imagine! I'll let you get back to your family

She focuses on getting ready for Halloween, which also happens to be her sister's birthday. Her sister is turning 21 this year and she wants to make the most of it, even in the midst of a pandemic. They plan on going to Salem, Massachusetts with family and throwing a little party at a cousin's house in Brookline, Massachusetts. She sees Cale post pictures and videos on his Snapchat story of him and his family celebrating his birthday. She sees all his teammates wishing him a happy birthday on Instagram and Twitter.

As she’s getting ready to go to bed that night, she gets a video call from Cale.

“Hello?” she asks, not knowing why he would be calling her.

“Ace!” he shouts, causing her to cringe slightly.

“How’s your birthday going?” she asks.

“Great! I’m with my brother and some buddies from back home! We got a bonfire going on right now!” he explains, showing off the fire and his brother and friends.

She wants the ground to swallow her whole because she looks absolutely disgusting with her hair tied up in a bun, and old URI sweatpants and an URI sweatshirt on. She has no makeup on and she’s pretty sure she has some acne on her face.

“Hey Ace! I’m Taylor, Cale’s brother!” Taylor shouts in excitement.

She can clearly tell that he’s buzzed, as well as Cale.

“Hey Taylor,” she smiles, waving at him politely.

His buddies also introduce themselves and she can tell that they’re also slightly buzzed. A part of her hopes that they aren’t driving and are gonna make it back home safely whether tonight or the following day.

“You should come!” one of his friends suggests.

“I’d love to but I live in America and the border is still closed,” she replies, feeling slightly awkward.

“It’s a shame! I know Cale really misses his girl right now!” another friend chimes in, causing her to almost choke on her wine.

“I’m not his-”

“He won’t stop talking about you! He’s got it bad for you!” another friend adds, causing her to blush even more.

If the ground would swallow her up right now, that would be amazing because she can't believe the shit that she’s hearing right now. She doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that has his friends saying that but a part of her wishes it’s true. God, a part of her wants him to want her because she definitely likes him. She likes everything about him but she’s too much of a loser to put herself out there more. So she just lets him do all the talking and flirting because once again, she has no game.

“Shut up Taylor!” Cale cries out, shoving his brother lightly.

“Well you seem to be having a fun time with your friends,” she says, not wanting to bring up anything that was said about his feelings for her. 

“It would be better if you were here,” he adds, his voice dropping slightly in volume.

“Yeah, well maybe we’ll meet one day,” she adds, not wanting to sound desperate to meet him or anything.

“When I get back to the States, I’ll make that a reality,” he replies, sounding sincere for being slightly intoxicated.

She’s reminded of the saying that drunken words are sober thoughts and gets a warm feeling in her stomach.

“Well I’ll let you keep having fun, birthday boy. I’ll talk to you later,” she smiles.

“Bye Ace,” he smiles back, before ending the call.

She immediately refills her glass of wine because she’s definitely too sober to be thinking about all the feelings Cale manages to give her every time they talk. She eventually falls asleep and if she dreamed about being in Calgary with Cale, she’ll blame it on the alcohol fucking with her dreams.

The next day is a busy one for Taty as she celebrates her sister’s 21st birthday in the best way she can while in the middle of a pandemic. They go to Salem, Massachusetts and have a blast doing many Halloween-related activities and then once it gets late, they head down to their cousin’s place in Brookline, Massachusetts to watch Halloween movies and to have a good time. Her sister decides to get drunk and Taty posts all their adventures on her Snapchat and her Instagram. She also sees that Cale has been posting his Halloween adventures on Snapchat, which aren’t as exciting this year because there’s no Avs Halloween party this year due to it still being the offseason and not everyone on the team is in Denver at the moment.

The next few weeks go by for Taty and it eventually gets to the point that she’s video chatting with Cale every day. They sometimes will stay up until late at night just talking and getting to know each other. Every day she’s becoming more comfortable and it’s on the first day of training camp, where she decides she’s finally gonna grow a pair and let him know how she feels.

He calls her after a long day at training camp and she actually has the time to talk to him as she isn’t working on anything for the podcast or her day job. 

“How was camp?” she asks him, as she locks herself in her room.

The last thing she needs is for her nosy ass sisters to eavesdrop on her conversations with Cale.

“It was tiring but fun. It was great to be out there with the guys again, even though everything is so weird with the virus going on,” he explains.

“Oh I bet, I can’t imagine all the testing and the extra precautions you guys have to take. The whole season is gonna be super weird huh,” she replies.

“Yeah, weird is a bit of an understatement,” he chuckles lightly.

“I really like you,” she blurts out, then immediately wishes the ground would swallow her whole.

She buries her face in her hands and contemplates ending the call to save herself from further embarrassment.

“Oh thank god! I was starting to think you didn’t really feel the same,” he admits, biting his lip.

“No I definitely like you. It’s just I’m new to this. I’ve never dated before or anything. I’m kind of a giant loser if you haven’t already caught on,” she admits, almost rambling at the end.

“Yeah no, you’re not a loser! You’re the coolest, most fun girl I’ve ever talked to and I just want to keep getting to know you because I really like you,” he assures her.

"So are we putting a label on this? Are we dating?" she asks.

"I guess you can say we're long distance dating," he chuckles lightly.

"I did know our video chats were considered dates," she teases.

"I was seeing them as dates and I want our future ones to be considered dates," he confesses.

"Alright so set up our next date," you tease.

"I know you're recording for the podcast tomorrow so what about Wednesday?" he asks.

"I'm off work Wednesday so that would be perfect. What time works for you?" she asks him.

"8pm my time," he answers.

"Yeah that works for me," she smiles.

"So it's a date?" he asks.

"Yeah it's a date," she smiles, getting a warm feeling in her stomach.

She tells him about some funny stories involving her family and he tells her some funny stories from training camp. They chat for hours and before she knows it, it's past midnight and she has to go to work in the morning. 

“I need to go to bed. I have work in the morning. Goodnight Cale,” she yawns, waving at him

“Goodnight love,” he waves back, ending the call. 

If she cheeses a little at the fact he called her love, no one is around to see it. 

December goes by pretty quickly and she feels bad that her calls with Cale become less frequent. December is the busiest month at work because everyone is doing Christmas shopping (being a store manager is hard work) and she finds herself working double the amount of hours she worked before the holiday season. Add doing the podcast three times a week and she’s absolutely gassed. Luckily, Cale doesn’t hold it against her because he starts getting more busy with preseason starting and his parents coming down for the holidays. Taylor is currently in the middle of his final season in the AJHL so he can’t make the trip down to Denver for the holidays. They text each other every day throughout the month however, and she manages to call him on Christmas and on New Year’s Eve, asking him if he’s excited for the new season to start on the 2nd.

2021 starts off worse than 2020 started because of the pandemic but Taty manages to make the best of it. She watches the Winter Classic while on video call with Cale. Luckily, the Avalanche start their season off at home again this year. The following day, she finds herself rushing home from work to be able to catch the Avs first game of the season against the Wild. She makes it home and takes a quick shower before changing into her Cale jersey and joggers. She quickly eats dinner before going into her room. She puts the game on and makes it just in time for the players to come out to the ice. She watches the game and manages to text Cale throughout the game knowing that he won’t see the string of texts until after the game. He finishes the game with one assist and 2 hits, as the Avs win 4-2 to start off the new season on a high note.

As she’s getting ready for bed, she gets a call from Cale.

“Hey, great game,” she smiles, trying not to show how tired she is.

“Oh shit, I just realized how late it is over there,” he sighs, not wanting to keep her up.

“It’s okay. I always stay up past my bedtime to talk to you,” she teases.

“How was work?” he asks.

“Annoying. We’re winding down from the holiday season but we still got a lot of people shopping and returning stuff,” she explains.

“I don’t know how you do it honestly, being so young and running a store, I mean,” he explains.

“Yeah well luckily I’m only an assistant manager,” she replies.

“Still pretty incredible what you do,” he assures her.

“Says the NHL superstar,” she scoffs.

“Hey, I’m not a superstar at all! I’m just another player like everybody else trying to be the best at my position,” he explains.

“Why do you have to be so humble all the time?” she teases.

“It’s just who I am,” he shrugs.

“And I love you for it but like just admit you’re a superstar,” she replies.

“Fine, I’m a superstar. Happy now?” he teases.

“The happiest. When are your parents going back to Calgary?” she asks, switching the subject.

“Tomorrow,” he answers.

“I’m glad you got to have them with you for the holidays, though,” she adds.

“Yeah, it was great seeing them again. I just wish Taylor could’ve been here,” he replies.

“Yeah well you’ll see him once his season ends and on the bright side, he’ll be at UMass next season,” she adds.

“Yeah I just miss him. I always go home for Christmas and this year I couldn’t,” he explains.

“Yeah I can’t imagine what that’s like but it will get better,” she assures him.

“Yeah I know it will,” he nods.

“I wish I could be there to make you feel better,” she sighs.

“Yeah, well we’ll see each other next month,” he smiles, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“February 5th can’t come fast enough. I’m gonna blow you away with the best interview you’ve ever done,” she teases, referring to her interviewing him for the podcast.

“I guess we’ll have to see about that,” he teases back.

“You wound me, Makar!” she fake gasps.

“I’ll make it up to you with a killer real first date,” he smiles.

“I’ll hold you to that. I expect to be really wooed,” she teases.

“It’s gonna be the best date you’ve ever been on,” he almost guarantees.

“It’s gonna be the first date I’ve ever been on,” she informs him.

“I know. That’s why it’s gonna be the best you’ve ever been on,” he jokes, causing her to roll her eyes.

“You’re so funny, Makar,” she deadpans.

“Stop acting like I don’t make you laugh all the time, Ventura,” he teases.

“What happened to humble Cale? I like him better than this smug one I got here,” she teases back.

“Stop acting like you don’t like it,” he replies.

“Yeah, I like every side to you,” she admits.

“Well that’s good because I like every side of you,” he smiles.

She feels her cheeks heat up and that warm fuzzy feeling return to her stomach. Is this what falling in love feels like? She’s never felt this way before and god, she hopes the feeling never fades because it’s amazing. No wonder people love falling in love so much, it’s magical and she hopes she doesn’t fuck it up. She just counts down the days until February 5th praying to god that nothing goes wrong once they finally meet.

[voidcat]

– Nebula

“ A nebula (Latin for 'cloud' or 'fog'; pl. nebulae, nebulæ or nebulas) is an interstellar cloud of dust, hydrogen, helium and other ionized gases. “

Characters: Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking few times, few swear words

Summary & wc: Follow up for Stardust & 6.1k words

A/N:  (this was supposed to be happier and not so self indulgent... ops...), here are some songs that I think fits the vibe of this (yes they’re all CSH songs, no I don’t care.) – ao3

Beast Monster Thing (Love Isn't Love Enough)

I Want You to Know That I'm Awake/i Hope That You're Asleep

Hey, Space Cadet (Beast Monster Thing in Space)

The night ceases to exist. Just they like agreed.

Not a single good morning said when they wake up, still lying on the hood of the car. Not a single word is said on your part when he drops you off. Not a word leaves his mouth when he drives away.

It gets a bit too silent at school. Iwaizumi asking both of you, a little worried, if you got sick. Mattsun cracking a joke about how the end is nigh. You ignore them, Oikawa brushes the comments off. Yet they’re right, you are never this silent around one another. A few minutes later the two of you find something to argue over, entering your usual cycle of behavior.

Each day passes in a blur.

The boys still attend practice to teach the younger players as much as they can, to play together as long as they can. Savoring each serve, receive, pass and spike…

Besides their extra curriculum matches, comes the pressing issue of tests. And the unavoidable questions about college, decisions on college, all the excitement people have, and the sadness too.

Talking things over with your friends and getting some things a little clearer, you are all back to normal. As normal as you can be. As normal as anything can be after that night honestly.

The nagging feeling of being left alone never leaves. The whispers of pity, the unwanted, the avoided and such. Everything passes in a blur that you cannot comprehend most days.

Each day feeling like two yet ending so quickly, never long enough to do the things you want to do.

Then again, what do you want to do?

One by one everyone makes plans. Plans of college, of future, of a new life. A new country, a new city, few plans of marriage; isn’t it a bit early? Ignoring the never ending chants of future and what waits ahead, you go with your mundane tasks.

Wake up, have breakfast, go to school. Attend classes, take tests, have lunch, more school work. Go home, sit alone idly, have dinner, go to bed.

Repeat.

Words start to fall on deaf ears after a while, subconsciously blocking anything you don’t want to talk about. A nod and a hum is enough, no one asks about your opinions.

It’s as normal as it can be, as usual as it can be. You’re more self-aware about a few things maybe, after a non-existent rant under the stars yet the course of action everyone takes never changes. Birds eat the same seed every day, people discuss the same things every day. Life is back to normal.

Except it isn’t.

It hasn’t been for too long to pinpoint an exact time. Too long that it has become your normal perhaps. You try not to dwell on it too much, not wanting another restless night filled with heavy thoughts.

 And maybe you’re lucky because you find Oikawa Tooru under your window another night. It only takes one pebble this time.

Not a text, not a word, you go down as he waits. He drives as you play your music. You both look up, in your own worlds.

He doesn’t try to start a conversation, something you’re grateful for. As time passes and the sky changes, you find yourself falling to sleep.

You don’t have any dreams that night and find yourself awake in his arms.

He drives you home in complete silence.

This repeats.

School days after your nonexistent nights are weird to say the least. They feel different. You feel different.

No intrusive thoughts, not your brain attacking you, not blocking out anyone…

You can feel yourself see the bright lights and enjoy the world around you. Enjoying even the tiniest things happening, like a ladybug resting on a friend’s forehead completely catching them off guard. Tiny moments like polaroids, like sweet fruit flavored candy, small cakes on sticks; all waiting to be savored and enjoyed, to be seen and to be lived in. And live, you do.

Yet the tranquility never stays too long. So you hold onto it as much as you can.

Next time Oikawa arrives, you’re already waiting for him.

The escape feels refreshing, something completely yours. Another polaroid you want to keep in your pocket forever.

Maybe he notices it or maybe he just enjoys the passive company. Because he keeps coming, at least twice a week, never on the same days, never regularly. Yet as if planning before-hand, you always know when he will come next. There’s a chance he just observes you and shows up on the days you most need perhaps. For some reason Oikawa Tooru knowing you as much as you do, if not better, does not bother you in the slightest.

The first time the silence is interrupted is on him. The reason of it is absurd, if not in the slightest bit funny. You switch your classical music with Gorillaz that night. No particular reason needed, just feeling like it. And yet Oikawa almost loses his grip on the wheels when he hears the bass entrance of Feel Good Inc. He hits the breaks as he regains control.

“What the hell is this supposed to be?” He sounds exhausted, you can’t help but notice.

“Music?”

“Yes I do know the song Feel Good Inc, I’m not living in a cave.” He sounds exasperated at first but his voice softens after a huff. “It’s just completely opposite to what you’ve played this whole time.”

“I know, I just didn’t feel like classicals tonight.”

Giving a nod your direction, he drives again. It’s a different spot when you arrive.

Higher than the previous location, you feel closer to the stars.

Shining brighter, sending their messages louder, you see Oikawa walking away from the car. Laying a blanket on the ground, placing a small pillow behind him, he sits down. Maybe he’s not the only one looking a change tonight.

You walk up to join him, knees touching one another, physical contact becoming more and more familiar with each brush, on each night.

As El Mañana starts playing, you find yourself leaning back into his arms, the gesture growing on the both of you, as if natural. Each night spent with Oikawa, side by side, sometimes in completely silence, sometimes filled with low singalongs coming from either of you. Each different yet feeling the same in a way. Like entering a bakery as they take out newly baked bread, the smell of yeast filling the air and pulling you in.

It feels good to just not exist for a couple of hours at night, just to sit back and escape the current worries darkening your mind.

“Any plans of where to go next?” Oikawa breaks the silence first, it’s going to be one of these nights.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking. You can mutter about anything into the void here.” He sounds different when you’re both lying on the ground, when your head is close to his chest. A voice in your head suggests it’s not just the position you’re in that makes him sound different than during the day.

“Please, not tonight.”

“Fair enough. But you have to answer another question first.” You groan.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Smacking his arm and getting a little ‘yelp’ from Oikawa, you wait for his question.

“If you could go to space, given the chance, would do agree to it?”

This, you could do. “Is it guaranteed I will arrive at a habitable planet?”

“No. It’ll be with the possibilities and conditions of today’s world only. So, would you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I, for one, would like to see the stars surrounding me completely, in 3d and all.”

“It’d be a nice escape. A path with endless opportunities and surprises.” He goes quiet after that. Waiting for a while, you reach out for the can you brought along. In that moment uner the bright lights, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

Oikawa gives you a side look when he hears the hiss of the tin can. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to drink?” He almost sounds like he cares. Almost.

“It’s one can, plus you’re here and for the last time I am not an alcoholic. Lay off my back for once.” Taking a sip and letting the coldness spread over to your neck, you let out a breath.

“I thought that’s exactly what I have been doing this whole time.” He says playfully, smile becoming a common occurrence each night by his side. Weighing your opinions for a second, you hold out the can to him.

“Here, if you want to.” He takes the can without saying a thing, coughs after taking a sip and gives it back. You’re sure he won’t be asking for it ever again.

“I’ve heard somewhere, the color of space was actually a dark tone of green. I’m not sure where though.”

“You’re joking, right? You can’t have alcohol tolerance this low.”

“…No? What does it have to do with my tolerance?”

“Because I can’t think of any other reason for that dumb statement.”

“Says you, idiotkawa.” You elbow him slightly. He turns to face you fully, holding your unoccupied hand with both of his hands. Saying your name in a very serious tone, he looks at you dead in the eye.

“What, Tooru?”

“It is space. Empty. There is nothingness. No color.” He says the last two words with emphasis. As if by holding your hand, he keeps your eyes on him too. You want to look away, because he is right but you don’t have it in you to break free of his starry eyes. “Therefore black.” He finishes up.

“Alright Mr Space Cadet, we get it. I was just trying to make small talk.” You mumble to yourself. Not making any attempt to pull back your hand or to let go of your hand, you both stay like this. The only movements are of you leaning against him and taking a sip or two once in a while. The air feels buzzy after a while, as if scribbles one does in their notebook whenever they’re bored has come alive, filling the air and your head in the process.

You don’t remember falling asleep in his arms, like any other night.

You never do, it just happens. One minute you lean against him, the feeling and the warmth still unfamiliar but weirdly pleasant. The next thing you know, you’re awaken by his soft voice or the sunlight peering through your lashes.

The day resets like that.

As if your usual worries are not enough, Oikawa Tooru adds a pile of more to them. Now mixed with guilt too. Whenever Hajime is close to you, wraps an arm around you or hugs you. No matter how comfortable you are with him, it all still feels weird, strange even. It caught you off guard when he would hug you after winning a match, it still catches you off even when his hand brushes yours. So how come you can fall asleep so peacefully and easily in the arms of someone you’re never on good terms with?

Maybe it’s the dumb jokes. Or the playful insults that lost all their spite. Or maybe it’s how soft he sounds in those crystal rare moments.

A brand new day starts. Another day of ignoring problems, living as if life will not change so drastically soon, going through the day as if you didn’t spend another night doing things you’d never normally do. You blame it on the time, when you’re too worked up on it. You can be uncharacteristically cheery at nights, or productive, thinking of things you can’t even remember in the day, imagining possibilities you can’t even dream of at night. So you blame it on the late hours that you feel closer to Oikawa Tooru, blame it on the late nights and the shiny stars that you open up to him, of all people.

It develops so quietly that none of you notice it until Makki points it out one day. How you and the trash king have gotten so quiet nowadays, how the judging stares and knife like wordsd are replaced with looks of understatement and concerned nods. You just shrug and say you don’t have time for petty fights like this when the pressing matters of college approaches. He leaves it at that but his eyes show that he’s not buying it.

You don’t need him to, you just need him to stop bringing it up. Stop making it real, giving it life.

Another night and you’re waiting by the door, dressed up thicker than the last time. The breeze is harsher but he arrives shortly.

It’s him to start another conversation using space as a topic, unsurprisingly.

“So what’s the coldest temperature in space?” he says casually, as though you’ve been talking for hours. Eager to get it right this time and not make a fool of yourself, you answer a bit too quickly, your excitement noticeable in your voice.

“Oh! I know this. What was it… -267 celcius or something, right? The perfect crystal form?...” The laugh he lets out at your rambling, facing the sky, is enough to shut you up and stop, to sit back and take in the entity that is Oikawa Tooru.

The form your thoughts about Oikawa seem to take over with each night spent by his side scare you. Since when you ever saw him in that light?

“I think you meant -273 Celcius. But no that’s not the answer.” In a manner like he already knows the curious expression you have on, he goes on: “It hasn’t been measured yet.” He turns to look at you, head titled, a small smile decorating his face.

You hit his bicep and he starts laughing again, louder, brimmed with joy. For a second, you’re sure you’ve seen a supernova.

Shaking your head a little, with an invisible smile on your face, you direct your gaze back on the actual stars. Having looked up more constellations this time, you try to spot as many as you can, recall their stories and the myths, play the scenes in your mind, with your rules this time.

How small and important tragedy sounds in those stories, how vital they can be for catharsis, oh, just how easy things sound sometimes… You’d agree to fight a Minotaur than to live this life perhaps. Physical injury is a guarantee, as long as your cells are young and active, there’s always healing, always getting as good as new. I wish that was the case mentally as well, without having to reboot yourself and your entire system, or the system around you. If you can ever change the system around you. To blame it is the more convenient option, maybe.

“Have you thought about the future, decided on anything yet?” Oikawa pulls you out of your chain of thoughts.

“I am thinking of it as of now, just not about mine.”

“Whose are you thinking about? No need to tire your pretty head about mine or Iwa-chan’s!” the cheeky tone of his ringing in the air.

“I’d never give you the time of the day, thank you very much!” liar. “And to answer your question, the usual. People of the past that may have or may not have existed. Gods, heroes and such, et cetera.” Twirling your hand in the air as listing off, you start to lose your focus on the sky. Turning to face him, you can see the solemn look on his face.

“I mean it. Have you considered any fields yet? Any colleges you want to go and check out? Anything.” Since when does he care? Why does he care? What’s that to him, why is he so caring all of a sudden, when it all is coming to an end at an alarmingly fast pace?

“I haven’t thought much of it.”

“Bullshit.” He spats.

“Excuse me? Who made you the expert of me?” So much for calm nonexistent nights, I should’ve known we couldn’t go any longer without a fight.

“It doesn’t take an expert to know you overthink everything. But I also happen to be an expert and I know when you say ‘haven’t thought much’ it means ‘I’ve thought too much to the point of numbness and I’d like to ignore it altogether until it’s unavoidable.’. Go on. Tell me I am wrong.” He is not and he knows it. He always does.

“I’ve considered the fields my parents want to me major in, but they all seem… so out of reach. I suspect if I’m illiterate whenever I try to read up about them. So many options, all considered ‘respected’ are out of the question I suppose.”

“What about something in fine arts? Maybe writing? That first night, you sounded… touching.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t listening?” Another smile appears on your face, smiling around him starting to get more and more of an instinct, a reflex. Something easy and subconscious.

“I wasn’t. Just like tonight.” You both look up, closing your senses under the influence of glistening stars.

“You have it easy.” You say after a while. Hearing the light shuffling noises, you know he’s turned to you again. You keep focusing your gaze on star after star, until the lights hurt your eyes.

“You have volleyball, will probably get a scholarship from many places, have a good career. Even if that’s not the case, you still know a shit ton about science and space so you can find something to do with engineering or space physics. While I sit here and just exist. Exist and do nothing else. I don’t even know what I like.”

You don’t realize how tense he gets, how his posture changes drastically. He doesn’t say anything. No comment, no criticism, no jokes, no advices, no insight from his side. Another rare Oikawa Tooru moment, of silence, which you’re glad to undergo.

That night ends in complete silence. Only sounds are of the engine and your music. You don’t hum once, he never grunts at the bad constriction of the road. Both tremendously careful to not shatter the fragile silence.

Another night to lock inside your mind box of “Imaginary Things” reaches its end like that. In silence, not so at ease unlike the previous times. This somehow makes the upcoming day easy to bear, already having a head start at feeling like this, has its perks it seems.

Iwaizumi tries asking you a few times when you’re one by one, if you’re alright or need someone to talk. Thanking for the offer, you try to dismiss his worry and convince him you’re fine. He knows that’s not the case, he always knows what’s going on in your head better than anyone but he doesn’t press it, afraid of driving you away. Iwaizumi Hajime seems too good to be real most of the time.

 “So what do we have tonight?” Oikawa asks, eyes never leaving the road.

“Hibiscus tea.” A hum comes from your right. “But it’s over brewed, you may not like it.”

“I can always try. It can’t be worse than that awful beer.”

“I thought ‘no judgement’ was a rule for these nightly trips.”

“We’re on our way so the night hasn’t begun. And that beer deserves all the judgement it gets. To hell with the rules.”

“I bet you don’t even know the different between different types of beer, whatever”

Smiling becomes natural at night, so is being able to talk without worries. To let out all your problems, feel the weight on your shoulders dropping off… It feels like floating in the air, the sky feels baby blue, illuminated by the sunlight. It feels like a good summer that will never come.

“I don’t want to because I am afraid of what will follow.” You blurt out suddenly. It’s funny how much one can think over what to say, weaving each word to use, putting them in the best order. Then you open your mouth and they all lose their magic.

Oikawa doesn’t say anything, most likely waiting for you to continue.

“When I talked that night, I mean. If I did it more and more often, I fear I will lose myself, or a part of myself. I don’t want to dissociate to the point of extinction. I mean, I do want that sometimes, but in a different way.

It’s almost funny how I know so little about myself yet live in fear of losing myself. Maybe I just want to discover myself before losing completely.” You pause to breathe, to listen. Listen to his breathing closely, to try and tell what he is thinking. You pause to focus on the dark parts of the sky. Imagine yourself getting pulled up, covered in dark matter, if that is even possible.

“If you want to elaborate…” Oikawa speaks at last. You don’t even hear him at first. He has gone quieter than usual.

Fiddling with your fingers and the empty cup you’re holding, your head falls down. Gather your thoughts or not? Form sensible sentences or speak in incoherent blabbering? Doesn’t matter much, either way, no matter wat you do, you’re convinced it all will sound absurd.

“That night, describing it was easy. I just closed my eyes in my mind and imagined myself talking about someone else. Like a character you’re analyzing in a book, or someone you’re trying to make assumptions about to understand them better. Kind of like you, when you break someone into pieces and examine each, then put it all back together in your mind to form them and gain a better perception of them.

That’s what I did, in some ways. Dissected that part of me to bits and pieces and talked in third person, so the words could flow effortlessly. If I kept doing I would only detach from myself completely and it would be too late to build a new me, because it wouldn’t even be me because I don’t even know me!” You don’t realize cradling your head with both hands, wrapping your arms around your face or pulling knees to your chest. You don’t notice the way your voice hitches, or how it gets hitch pitched. The stinging tears at the edges of your eyes feel nothing, just like the fingers wiping them away.

The rest of the night is unknown to you. You don’t remember anything else happening. Did I bury it down deep in my mind or fall asleep? No matter the answer, it doesn’t matter. You prefer not to remember.

The numbness gets worse in time, you notice that a little too late. Trapping yourself inside the gray fog for too long, you never asked Iwa what he was applying for, where he was going. All these nights spent with Oikawa, hours of rants and not even once you knew about his doubts regarding of volleyball. His plans about Argentina were worth celebrating, and celebrate you all did. You’ve never felt more selfish in your life.

That week he didn’t came over once, you didn’t expect him to. It was fine, accumulating back to loneliness was better in the longer term. A lot has happened that requires you to think over.

The days pass in a mixture of colors. You can picture the water when various watercolor brushes are dipped into the cup, all the colors lifting of and disappearing one by one.

Bright and warm colors for short lived happiness, small things that get to you, leaving just like sun light does when a cloud covers the sun suddenly. The cloud stays there for longer. Little moments that remind you you’re alive, like a jolt of electricity. The effect wearing off quickly.

The rest is usual, always tainted, blurred, covered, hidden behind a curtain.

Oikawa comes back another night. You feel like you’re on a deadline.

During the drive, you lean against the window and close your eyes, listening to the low voice of the radio. By the time you turn around a little, to rest on the car seat headrest, you’ve fallen asleep. Awoken by an unfamiliar warmth and luscious eyes, you yawn and leave the car. You must be still sleepy and more tired than you anticipated.

Lying down by his side, just like many other nights, you let yourself see the bright lights, enjoy the ones you cannot reach.

“I think I’ve found it.” You whisper to the stars.

“Found what?” They ask back, he inquires.

“Something I like.” You say matter-of-factly, as if it is that easy.

Taking in the silence as your que, you continue.

“I like the person I become when I am with you. It feels carefree. Talking is easier, the vastness of the sky is comforting. It shows how I am only human, how it’s okay just to worry sometimes. It feels good to look up and think ‘Hey all these humans, all these animals and plants, protists and mushrooms, everything alive and existing. All these living forms we are unaware of, out in the space… With too many to count out there, how can I ever be alone?’ It puts me at ease, just like you do sometimes.”

“What about Iwa-chan?”

“It’s different.”

“We have all the time.”

“With him, I am the best of me, but it’s draining. It exhaust me and I think it drains his stamina mentally. It feels I am too dependent on him sometimes. I can’t keep doing this to him or to myself.

While with you, I can just… be the fuck up I am and live like that. With you I can be many aspects of myself and not receive a single intervention. I can say whatever and you wouldn’t care to intervene. Or maybe you don’t do or say anything simply because you care.” Giving yourself a moment to breathe and gather your thoughts, you pause.

“I don’t want to suck the life out of him until we are left with nothing but dread and dust. I need to grow and improve for him, if not for me, but in my own terms and without him. I think I just like to exist with all these broken and unopened packages of myself, all scattered in a box but somehow managing to be whole.”

“Careful not to dissect yourself further.”

“Don’t worry, these are just former lab results, nothing new.”

Wrapping his arm around your figure and pulling yourself to him, he just nods his head. It’s not like you can see, still a gesture to show he is listening. The night passes away with the close proximity. Pulling you to himself and resting your head on his chest starting to develop as a habit. In the hallways you never stand on Iwaizumi’s other side anymore, always between the two. Almost instinctive and noticed by the others.

You don’t fall a victim to Morpheus’s sand so quickly that night. Still awake and examining the sea above you, you are not startled when Oikawa wraps his other arm around you as well, your breath doesn’t hitch when plants a kiss to your forehead, you heart doesn’t skip a beat when his grip tightens a little. It feels so familiar, they all do. It makes no sense, it is nothing usual. Then why aren’t you surprised?

Needless to say, you don’t sleep that night.

“Astrophysics doesn’t sound so bad actually.”

“Where did that come from?” Iwaizumi asks. He’s walking you home today, insisting the two spend as much time together as you can before graduation comes.

You shrug at him. “It’s time I start thinking about what to do about my future. And space doesn’t sound like a bad idea to discover and learn more about.”

“Aren’t you thinking ahead now? It’s not like we will graduate in a day or two and end another chapter in our lives.”

“Ha ha, very funny Haji.” Shouldering him lightly, you both keep walking. Stopping once in a while to pet a stray you see, which usually ends up with Iwaizumi getting scratched. The sun is setting down, drowning the world in hues of orange and coral. You don’t want this moment come to an end.

It becomes another polaroid you keep hidden in your front pocket, above your heart.

Not hearing it for so long, you don’t grasp what’s happening at first. The second pebble is all the explanation you need.

It’s the last night before the graduation. Last night before you begin a new chapter, before you all enter a new adventure, all on your own merry, separate ways. It may be the last night to spend with a fog stuck your head or a night of good dreamless sleep but Oikawa seems to oppose it.

He drives to the exact place you first went with him, parks in the exact spot too. You wonder if he marked it somehow or if his memory is just that good.

In a way, it’s a fitting way to end. With another non-existent night. Who am I even kidding at this point? These were the most real nights you’ve ever had in the past decade, it’d do no justice to brush them off with a snap.

Just like that first night, you both sit on the hood of the car, looking up to the night sky. So many has changed ever since. It has not even been that long. Time is a funny concept.

You have considered doing that by yourself few times, or with other people. Driving and stargazing one night, escaping civilization and all its expectations behind. Imagination was more than enough of an answer. It’d not feel the same without him, wouldn’t be as welcoming, as relaxing as it is with him. It’d be another sorrowful night spent in your room, with a new setting only. However, you still want to try and you will, when the time is right.

“So, how do you feel tonight?” Hints of something different is painted in his voice.

“Neutral, I suppose.”

“No, I mean, which color you feel tonight.” He’s looking at you again. “Still grey?”

Staring at one of the stars for a while, is it Vega?, you stay silent. “Not exactly.”

“It still has grey-ish tones but I think it is manifesting. Like a pale, pastel color, you know?”

“I think I see your point. Still, you have a weird way of explaining emotions through colors.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re emotions, subjective constructions of the self.” Maybe you shouldn’t have said that so harshly. The ‘hmph’ coming from him justifies that thought.

“But if you really want to know, it’s a soft pink. Not the bright kind, not lively like cotton candy. Champagne can match the tone I think, but it’s not as bubbly as it is either. Almost like a soft tone you can see on a rose petal, the type that seems dirty but adds contrast to the flower itself too.”

He nods his head once. You hope he leaves it at that and the rest of the night goes in silence. You know first-hand how much Oikawa Tooru loves to do against your wishes, tonight is no exception.

“Is that how you feel, about these nights? About me?”

Shrugging in response, you mumble a ‘I guess so.’

“It’s almost funny. How people use pink and red for affection and love but I don’t think these words cover what I truly feel, inside my bones. Does that even make sense? I hope it does, I need it to make sense. I don’t know.”

“Still conflicted about love, I see.”

“I’ve given it a thought, you know. On you and I.” He raises a brow at that, another gesture you fail to see.

“That first night, especially. About how maybe we could be on different terms, were the circumstances different. Maybe I would be closer with you, something similar to what I share with Haji. Or perhaps we would talk a few times and never be friends, not even on speaking terms. Or maybe we could be more. It is effortless and harmless to think about what-ifs to never come. I must’ve been doing that more than I realized on these nights.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything at first. For a minute, you’re sure you’ve lost him, drove him away for good. Could it be that you spoke so lowly and he fell asleep? That could happen, right?

You try not to think about it, or worry about it. But it’s hard when the current source of your worries lies right next to you, breathes so placid and transparent.

“We could give it a try, if that’s what you want.”

You don’t hear him the first time. Because there is no way these are the words that leave his lips. You must’ve heard him wrong or zoned out. There is no other explanation.

You want to jolt up and yell ‘Are you making fun of me? Of my emotions?’ You want to throw your hands into the air and scream, shriek, yell. ‘What is this? Luring me into a false sense of safety only to fuck with me on the last day, to get the last laugh and make it a grand thing? Were you pretending this whole time? Was it all just a lie? I know we said it would not exist but was it all just an act? Have I been living a lie this whole time?...’

You don’t say any of these. Instead, you sit up, hands in your lap, staring at your hands. You know what he would say. Oikawa has been annoying as long as you’ve known him then again, he would never do something like this. ‘Why would I go and scheme some absurd plan like this? And to what end? To hurt you? You’re already doing that yourself, I am just trying to help for once!’ You’ve been a great support lately, but how much of it did you mean?

Taking a deep breath to clear your head of the imaginary argument you just had in your mind, you turn to look at him. He looks so peaceful, stands out in the best way possible. Almost like a cut out figure, center of a collage.

“Why are you asking me this, Tooru? Why?” he rests one arm on the surface, leaning on it.

“Do you really need a reason?” Taking a look at you, he sighs.

“The same reason you and Iwa-chan became friends in the first place, the same reason I pick you up at nights, the same reason you keep coming along. The same reason we both seek company to fall asleep. The same reason we talk about space and things that make no sense when we could be addressing our real problems.”

He has a point. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He looks exhausted.

He is right. Since when you’ve needed a reason for everything you do? What is living if you seek reason and logic behind everything? Since when living has been all about reason and purpose and not just surviving the day or enjoying the moment, suffering the pain and laughing under the sun? Since when a motive is required to act as you wish?

“Don’t you agree it is a little too late to ask that question?” You say at last.

“It was never right before, it never fit the moment as much as it does now.”

“Would it even work? You know what I think of ‘love’. Can one even care for someone before caring for themselves first? Do you even see me in that light?

“We don’t have to do anything. That’s why I called it a ‘try’.” He pulls you down with him as he talks.

“Tooru, you’ll be going to Argentina soon. There’s no time for trying.”

“I know, I just want to purpose that out loud. But if you ever want to give it a go in the future, I can wait.” Before you can turn to face him, to object, he tightens his arm around you and continues.

“I am not offering to wait for you. I can simply wait until someone comes into my life. But if you show up before that someone and would like to give it a try, I wouldn’t oppose to the idea.”

You consider his words for a while. It makes sense, sounds reasonable too. What’s there to lose?

Making yourself comfortable in his arms, you wish him a good night for the first time. Reaching to hold one of his hands, you let your mind drift off to sleep. Another kiss atop your head and a chin rested against your head are the last things you remember about that night.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Amy Lee Of Evanescence On Women In Rock, The Freedom Of Artistry & Finally Being Able To Say What She Wants To Say

Music Feeds: Amy, thanks for taking the time to talk to Music Feeds. We’re particularly excited to talk to you at the moment because you have a brand new album out. How is existence treating you?

Amy Lee: Awesome. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me too. We are all just SO happy to finally have it out there! It feels really good.

MF: It’s quite a sonic adventure, this record. It presents all of the elements that people are accustomed to hearing from Evanescence and blends them with a whole bunch of new elements, was this a fun and rewarding record to write for you?

AL: It’s hard to sum it up in a word like fun because it is, it is so deep. There was definitely pain involved and challenge and all those things that lead to making something great, you know? It takes a little bit of struggle and we went through a lot to get to the place where we could write this album. I think the word that sums it up is satisfying. It feels really good to get a lot of this off of my chest. For me, this is partially due to having things to say that had been building for a while and having a new perspective to write from, but also musically, with the band, it shows how far we have come as a band and displays what it is that these guys and lady, that I work with now bring to the sound and that connection deserves to be documented. I really wanted a chance to show what we’ve grown into and it feels really good to listen to that back.

I think everybody’s feeling excited for the eventual day that we get to go play this stuff live again because for so long, our live show has been about making a great collection of our big back catalogue of music, but it’s all old, you know? It’s been a while since we’ve been able to really go, okay, “this is who we are now”. So having this now it’s going to be hard to play anything, but the new songs.

MF: I’d imagine it would be, especially given how much of yourself that you’ve put into the record. Now I know that you all went through a lot of challenges, both personally and as a band in the writing process, with some personal tragedies, the pandemic and even having one member stuck indefinitely in Germany, do you feel like those challenges added to the emotional intensity of the record?

AL: Yeah, I think that’s a good way to put it. It made everything more important. The music has been like this life-giving thing for us all to grab onto and to connect us to each other. As people, we’ve been so isolated, so expressing yourself and being able to share in that with somebody far away, makes it feel like we’re not so far away, on an internal, on a soul level, you know, we are connected. It has been so healthy for all of us to be able to pull together and have something to work for, something to fight for and build a world that we can control.

That’s something we all want so bad in a time when it just has felt like so much is out of control. So I think for us, to have this thing to care about and to focus on, has just been such a gift. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it quite honestly, I think it would have really gone insane.

MF: All of these situations also made you have to be pretty innovative in order to complete the record, finishing songs and sessions for the album remotely and thinking your way around how to be a band, without ever really being in the same room. In a strange way did that challenge make the writing and recording process feel like a fresher and more interesting experience? Do you feel that adaptiveness and creativity added something extra to the record?

AL: Absolutely, I really do. I’m a believer in that. I really, really, really liked breaking rules, especially when it comes to creativity. I like making music, making art; to feel like making art, it needs to feel creative and inspired and excited. When we were making our first music, when I was writing Fallen, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t have anything to live up to, or I didn’t have a method that I could rely on. It was just creating a way for the first time. The more that I think you can tap into that, where it feels like you’re just, a soul scratching at something trying to make it come to life, the better the art will be.

You can be surprised by how many different ways that can happen. I was pushing us in a little bit of that direction with Synthesis, making the band kind of find a new way to play their instruments, where it would fit into an orchestral setting without heavy guitars and big drums or anything that sounded like those acoustic instruments, pushing them to find a new way. Jen learned how to play the theremin a little bit and made that a part of her thing. I learned to play the harp a little over ten years ago, I’m a piano player and they’re related, I mean, a harp is the guts of a piano, but it’s being plucked. So there are similarities, it’s sort of like French to Latin or something but different, it makes you play differently, and I wrote songs during that time on the harp a little bit, because it forced me to play differently. It made me write differently also and because of that, we got songs that weren’t like the way they would be, if wrote them with a piano as my route, like I typically do.

I think it’s really good to work outside your comfort zone and outside the box and to be challenged, it makes it exciting too. I don’t want it to feel like a job. I want it to feel like the fun thing. I want it to feel like the secret project because that’s how it should be. Right? Like your job is your job, that’s the cubicle that’s filling out paperwork and doing your taxes to be a musician. To be a creator, to be an artist, that should be the thing that feels like your freedom, your release, the thing you’ll stay up all night for, not the thing that you’re supposed to do.

MF: That’s a very empowering message and an inspiring message to give people too and I feel like you can hear that fresh inspiration on the record.

AL: Good! You know, having to, having to think around the problems, this time a lot of it’s been about the promo. We did get to get back together and be in the studio, all of us, except Jen, last fall and do things in a fairly typical way, which was amazing, but it was more humble like we were eating ramen and stuff so that we wouldn’t have to do takeout a lot of the time. Everything was a little bit more like early days, which felt good. It made it feel like we’re doing this because we love this, not just because it’s a cushy job. Having to think about making our own music videos or even this right now, like setting up the stuff where I have to film myself, that’s a new experience.

We even did Jimmy Kimmel recently, and they essentially said, “do it yourself, figure it out and send it in, and we’ll put it on the air.” It’s like, Oh my God, well, we’re all over the world, but we don’t want to pass up this opportunity. So you just have to find a new way and it’s amazing, the feeling that you can get at the end of that after you do it, the empowering feeling that really does give you like, “Hey, I did it, I did it!”. It means something to know that I cared about it enough that I tried and I made it happen and in the process, I’ve learned a new skill.

MF: You learned a lot of new skills in the process, especially when you’re talking about the videos, the fact that you shot two video clips on your iPhones… did you ever think that would be possible? And was it hard to get into the performative headspace to make that look as organic and as awesome as it does?

AL: It was really fun! It’s hard to explain it, but it really reminds me of being in high school and having a dream and doing whatever I could with what I had to make it happen. Once we got the idea we realised that it’s not like we’re going to be able to do production, so let’s make it about the soul, let’s make it about the point and the heart of the message and see if we can get that across and let that be the leading thing. That’s been sort of the guiding mantra about this whole time through last year and in the process too, has been: let the meanings lead, not the tempo, not the style. Whether it is deciding which songs come first, or what’s going to be a single, all those things really have come about this time by answering the question of “What’s the message we want to convey? What are the words we want to speak into the world right now?” Because this music, as much as it is for us, it’s more than ever feeling like it’s for everybody. So what, where are we now? And what, what could the world, you know, relate to or need?

MF: The messages on the record, are particularly strong. The obvious one is ‘Use My Voice’ but overall it seems like a record with quite a lot to say, and I feel like that might differentiate it from what people might have come to expect when it comes to lyrical content from Evanescence. Is your focus as a musician and as a strong voice in the community to just say what you mean now? Was there ever a point in your career when you felt prevented from doing that?

AL: I think the biggest preventer of things like that is my own self. The music for me has truly, always been the one place where I tell the truth, not that I’m a liar in real life, but the music is the one place where I’m not holding back from saying what I really mean. The one place where I’m not just keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to deal with the fallout. So whether or not that’s always come across clearly, because I have been vaguer in the past with the lyrics, I’m not sure. But if you knew my situation and you knew who I was talking about at the time, it would have been a lot more clear.

It’s funny because we’re on a level now, where it’s not just me and my family and my friends who know me, it is about something bigger on some of these tracks and ‘Use My Voice’ is definitely the biggest one that is that way. That’s coming from me, pushing myself. I have been really pushing myself over the years on every album and challenging myself to be more specific and to say what I really mean because it feels good. The more that I can really let off, the more of a release it is for me to let some of those things go. It felt good and felt like, there was a higher purpose with ‘Use My Voice’ because we knew that we were going to be able to use it, to empower other people, and make positive change in our country and in the world, in the fight for democracy. It’s so important. It’s huge. If rock can’t be the voice for power to the people, then I don’t know what we have to do that? That’s our job!

MF: That is awesome. It’s also good to hear to an extent that you feel like it was always you that has been holding yourself back, and that you’ve grown through that, rather than it being a case of industry folk, holding those elements back. Because I think there’s a bit of a belief in the music industry that particularly at the start circa Fallen, that people wanted you to be something that you’re not. Those people around you were trying to force you into becoming Linkin Park or something?

AL: That’s actually true, that part, but I still wrote about all of that, I still wrote those lyrics. So I guess that was the start of me pushing myself.

MF: It seems that you were a bit of a trailblazer in the modern heavy scene, in many ways. When Fallen blew up it inspired a generation of new performers and it seemed to also open industry eyes to what female and femme-identifying acts could bring to that space. With this in mind, it would be remiss of me not to ask how you feel about the state of the industry at the moment in terms of its attitude towards the female and femme-identifying artists in the heavy scene?

AL: That’s the question, isn’t it? It’s not about women not being allowed to be musicians. They always have been. It’s about how we see the summary. So often rock these days is not in the mainstream. It’s boiled down to a teeny, teeny, tiny piece of the pie, and there’s only room for one face, and it’s a picture of a dude. Because that’s how people that are not rock fans see the genre. People that are rock fans know that rock music has never gone away, that it has legions of fans and thousands of fresh acts and perspectives, but whether or not these big mainstream gatekeepers are going to let that through, and show that as reality, is a different thing altogether. I think to an extent that people who don’t know a lot about modern rock music, still see it as a picture of something ancient, like an artefact of when they were kids. They still see it like Bruce Springsteen, or The Beatles, or these other depictions of old rock bands, when the truth as you know is that it has changed so much since then.

I do think that they’re making an effort now, I’m seeing an effort being made. I mean this last Grammys was all women in the rock category, In This Moment was up for the metal award, and I know that it’s not just about the Grammys, but it’s good to see that happening. I think that the world, our society is aware that this is a moment for different perspectives to have a chance to show their face and to shine and to say, “Hey, here’s, here’s something from my perspective”. I think that’s really, really important that we all are able to kind of see things through more perspectives than just our own. I think that is really the road to helping a lot of the issues in our world, in our society. Not thinking only from your little perspective of you and your hometown and what you’ve seen, and there’s a lot more out there and it doesn’t need to be scary. We just need to be exposed to all kinds of differences. It’s happening. Rock is definitely a place for all things, all people, you know. But it’s just gonna take time, you know, for that picture to change, when all it boils down to a summary, they need to stop summarizing so much. I will say as well, rock music is huge. There’s so much of it. We need a little more air time, please!

MF: Yes, yes, yes, definitely. Definitely more time, more perspectives, more diversity, more respect, more rock! I’m actually a rock singer myself. So I’m just sitting here nodding thinking that it would be lovely to be considered a worthwhile genre again, in a mainstream sense. Now, I do want to know something about you as a person, Amy. The band has a very distinctive, visual aesthetic and I’ve always wanted to know if that’s something that’s inspired by your tastes, the other things in life that you enjoy, or if it is just something that fits the music?

AL: That’s an interesting question. I feel like it’s both. I’ve always had a huge interest in the visual. It is essentially important to me and I always have ideas like when the songs are happening, when I’m making music when we’re in our world of creating, I’m constantly just seeing things in my head and thinking about ideas about how to bring the song to life with visuals. I’ll sit there thinking “ooh if we do a video, I need to see this happening” you know? Or, for example, with the clothing you see me in, I designed my own clothes. So a lot of the time what I wear either on stage or in music videos, I’ve made specifically for that purpose. It’s about being able to create a whole world and have a visual representation of who you are from the production too, on stage, it’s so important, it makes all the difference. It’s honestly, you understanding and accepting and putting out there a further dimension of what you are for people to tap into and to get and to relate to and perceive.

It’s hugely important to me, but it has to do with the music. You can currently see toys against a white wall, on a couch, in my house, so you can tell that my house is not entirely full of like black wallpaper and chains, if that’s what anyone was expecting. But I wouldn’t say that Evanescence aesthetic is straight-up metal either. It’s more complex than that. So it’s the side of me that is that trying to summarize the music in a way, in a visual mode, where it’s kind of like got some Victorian elements that represent the classical for me, and it’s got weird atmospheric things that kind of represent the electronic world, and of course it’s got the distressed elements and the darkness and the heavy feeling of the band. The more layers you can use to express yourself, the better.

MF: That makes a whole lot of sense. I honestly hadn’t connected the Victorian imagery and the classical music background before, but it absolutely makes sense to me now. Speaking of visual arts, you’re doing a very cool thing within that spectrum on this record, by releasing a graphic novel anthology that’s inspired by Evanescence music. How did that come about? And as a lover of the medium, that must be the most awesome thing ever, right?

AL: It’s so awesome. It’s so awesome! I have all these really grand ideas that would take way too much time and energy to actually do, while also doing my music career and being a mum and everything else that goes on in life, but this is something that I’m able to do because it’s coming from heavy metal. They came to me and were like, “Hey, we’d like to do this with you”, so instead of me having to find artists and put all this stuff together and create this world, they’re like, “Hey, we got it, we have the coolest, the best graphic design artists in our works in our sphere and the best story writers and stuff, and we want to do something based on your music”. So they came to me about a year ago and it sounded like one of those ideas that are too good to be true, where I was saying, “I’m in, now let’s see if this is just a bunch of meetings or it’s really going to happen” and it’s really happening!

The first two songs are in the works right now, it’s just so cool. I want to make this clear to our fans, it’s not my idea and my inspiration of the meanings behind the songs, presented as a visual. This is different artists and different writers for each song, getting an idea and being inspired while listening to the song and turning that inspiration into a beautiful graphic novel, based on their individual interpretation of the song. It’s so cool because it lets the music just take on more forms, have more lives, more alternate realities. I love it!

MF: I look forward to looking at every single one of these! Have you seen any of the graphic novels yet?

AL: I have, I’ve seen some of the stuff already and it looks really cool and I’m very excited. I have a little hand in it, giving opinions like do this, don’t do that, but for the most part, this is other creatives, just taking it to another place. It feels really good to see that happen.

MF: That’s so awesome. I’ve got to let you go, so thank you for talking to Music Feeds. I must confess that as a heavy music-obsessed teenager when Fallen dropped, I was all about it, so it’s great to see and hear you and Evanescence in such a great place as you’re putting The Bitter Truth out into the world.

AL: Thank you, that’s lovely to hear. It’s good to be back! It’s been nice talking to you, thanks for taking the time.