#if I consider it just a show about two guys skateboarding and falling in love and adam doesn't exist it's a better show

[hellolulu]

Sk8 would be a fave if not for me being forced to sympathise with and accept adam. Disgusting. He's a r*pist, a p*do (I don't want these words in full on my page), and attempted homicider. Why would you even begin to give the "well as a child he was treated like [blank]" bs to me. That's to explain away why people are emotionally unavailable or aren't okay with physical touch or other unusual but acceptable problems. Not something to excuse putting people in hospital, giving them ptsd, or doing anything that intentionally hurts them. The end.

[chickensarentcheap]

The first thing she does it talk to him in an effort to bring him out of the state that he's in. She learned the hard way not to just try and shake him awake, as he is caught in that fight or flight an will always choose fight. Unfortunately, it ended up with her being pinned face down to the bed and with bruises that lasted for a week and a bit. So she learned to always talk to him and keep talking to him until he responds and shows that he knows where he is, who she is. Then she'll get his emergency meds, a wet face cloth, and a glass of water. And while he takes the meds and the water, she'll wipe down his face and neck. Just to help him get back to 'normal'.

2. She still attempts and he still continues to ask if she wants to join him :)

3. Esme loves to bake (is that considered creative?) and she has her sewing and crocheting projects. She makes bunting bags, jammies, blankets, crib accessories for babies :)

4. I think she knew really early on. In Dhaka. Or that she was at least falling in love with him. Because he didn't see her flaws or her brokenness and he didn't try to hide his from her. He was honest and raw and open with her about even his darkest secrets. And he made her feel safe and protected. He was the first person to ever make her feel that way.

5. Fairly quickly after Millie was born (in the main series). Esme had a very hard time with being a new mom, and he was able to step up and really be there for her and take the stress and the load off and even teach her how to do certain things and reassure her she was doing a good job.

6. Esme loves leaving him little love notes all over the place. In his truck, in his office, in his gym, on the bathroom mirror. On those sticky note things. She puts them EVERYWHERE lol. And he collects watches and she'll just out of nowhere buy him one. Or a surfboard to add to his collection. Or she'll bake his favourites for him :)

7. The house on a whole, about every two years. But she's notorious for always re-doing their bedroom and bathroom and that's every six months, sometimes sooner lol

8. Tyler is definitely a Gladiator guy ;). But I'm putting Point Break on his list too

9. Millie will go for manis and pedis and facials with her mom. And they'll go to the movies and out to lunch.

10. Oh Esme loses it on the kids at times lmao. Her patience isn't as strong as Tyler's is. He rarely raises his voice at them. BUT Millie has pushed him to the point.

11. Those kiddos make him laugh all the time. Whether it's playing pranks on Esme, having fun in the pool, going down to the beach together, teaching them to skateboard and dirt bike.

12. Tyler was honourably discharged from SASR because of his drinking issues that started after his son died and the mistake he'd made in those last days. He told Esme about it one of the fics. I can't remember which one. He had the booze addiction and a rage issue and got himself while in uniform more than once. It would have been a dishonourable discharge, but he was highly decorated and they did him a 'favour'

@tragiclyhip

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure 

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love. 

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules. 

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!] 

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ 

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life. 

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends. 

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space. 

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life. 

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him. 

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings. 

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you. 

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that––he doesn’t want anything to change. 

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history). 

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever. 

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one. 

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second. 

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table. 

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all. 

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking. 

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense. 

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.) 

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue. 

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?” 

Wrong. 

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend. 

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.) 

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull. 

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon. 

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak. 

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection. 

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was. 

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners. 

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him. 

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school) 

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time. 

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon. 

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you. 

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be. 

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t. 

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life. 

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you. 

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract. 

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we? 

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second. 

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.” 

Right. Of course. Obviously. 

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way. 

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know. 

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you. 

Yes, that’s it, just say no. 

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact. 

Jake does not say no. 

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another. 

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart. 

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.  

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.  

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting. 

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?  

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.  

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea. 

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you: 

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture. 

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world. 

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right? 

Spoken like a true simp. 

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously. 

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all. 

Wednesday, December 9th 

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well. 

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist. 

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.” 

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say. 

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself. 

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...” 

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good. 

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often. 

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush. 

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment. 

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking. 

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers. 

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun. 

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table. 

“I’m helping y/n study” 

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday” 

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?” 

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party? 

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime. 

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.” 

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes. 

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again. 

He then looks to you with puppy eyes. 

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you. 

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that. 

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought. 

Weird. 

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest. 

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.” 

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no. 

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party. 

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.” 

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.” 

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you. 

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay. 

Admittedly cute. 

Thursday, December 10th 

You are having a bad day. 

You’re having the mother of bad days. 

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due. 

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms. 

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse. 

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about. 

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal). 

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n. 

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done. 

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space. 

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays. 

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude. 

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone. 

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding” 

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is 

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? :// 

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today. 

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home. 

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures. 

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy. 

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue. 

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.” 

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in. 

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window. 

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door. 

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right? 

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats. 

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood. 

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.” 

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?” 

“Touché,” you click your tongue. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.  

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?” 

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously. 

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you. 

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?” 

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood. 

You nod at his answer. 

“You two make a good couple.” 

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.” 

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen. 

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say. 

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy. 

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.  

Jake. 

Weird. 

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.  

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.  

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.  

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.  

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.  

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing. 

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.  

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.  

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.  

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation. 

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.  

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.  

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"  

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.  

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.  

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon. 

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you. 

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.” 

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show. 

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice. 

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand. 

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands. 

Hm. A little too familiar. 

Then, it clicks in his head. 

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?” 

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied. 

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table. 

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken. 

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?” 

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!” 

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him. 

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice. 

You break out of his trance and scoff at him. 

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well.  Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you. 

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.” 

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence. 

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute. 

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.” 

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name. 

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place.   “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan. 

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts. 

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.” 

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it. 

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute. 

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being. 

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion. 

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind. 

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.” 

Friday, December 11th 

The party does not clear your mind. 

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school. 

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood. 

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway. 

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case. 

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings). 

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news. 

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people. 

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.  

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap. 

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously. 

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive. 

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you. 

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth. 

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.) 

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons. 

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no. 

But he sure can be awkward. 

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him. 

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you. 

Bless this pure, pure boy. 

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them. 

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.” 

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!” 

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response. 

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay––dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den. 

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.  

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.” 

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."  

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?” 

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap). 

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.” 

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake. 

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement. 

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.” 

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now. 

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.” 

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him. 

“What do you mean I’m too–” 

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say. 

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his. 

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at. 

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop. 

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him. 

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.” 

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing. 

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened. 

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you. 

He’s screwed. 

Saturday, December 12th 

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night. 

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream. 

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise. 

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone. 

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search. 

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before. 

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet? 

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up 

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry 

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy? 

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door 

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts. 

Talk? Outside his door? 

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down. 

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less. 

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however. 

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch. 

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is. 

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue. 

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?” 

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you. 

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home. 

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake? 

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps. 

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes. 

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you. 

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence. 

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking. 

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think. 

Not when it comes to you. 

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you. 

“Look, I-” 

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around. 

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth. 

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.” 

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.  

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare. 

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.” 

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help. 

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.” 

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.” 

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away. 

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare. 

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two. 

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily. 

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you. 

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away. 

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure. 

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response. 

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else. 

“Too late.” 

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’))))) 

[murasakispace]

Adam/Shindo Ainosuke X Male Reader

Author's note : Adam needs a bit of love, don't you think? A little love that doesn't imply to hurt Tadashi. It doesn't prevent that it is certainly crap. English is not my main language and it must be awful.

Warnings : NSFW, spanking, degradation and all the BDSM pack.

You were a newcomer, a rookie here. In S. You had the time to watch the local legends fall from their safe sky on the large screens. The most incredible was the race against Langa. Well... You were still wondering if his name was really Langa. Maybe you misunderstood, hidden in your shadows. First Joe, then Cherry and finally Adam. You had to admit their style was eclectic. Even them had to learn again. They were believing themselves as gods because they were the founders of a clandestin course. It made you shrug a little while you were observing them.

People were people. Here, in S, freedom was at its most powerful. A place were no one could say, order to someone something he doesn't want to do. Everything was ruled by skateboard and the people's talent. You were quite happy of that. Because of an accident years ago in mountains with your motorbike while you were heading to the summit so as to practice snowboard. You had the ambition to reach the Winter Olympic Games in half-pipe. You fell from a cliff and you miraculously landed meters below with broken ribs instead of your backbone.

During years you suffered and your dream of medals in the Olympic Games was gone, vanished into the air. Your well-known recklessness almost hurried you in your grave. In the hospital, you spent the last three years to reeducate with an omnipresent pain in your back, anger against the people who had forgotten you when you would have given them your soul if they asked for it an ended alone. You nearly lost your mind when you woke up from coma and nothing appeared in front of you. You weren't able to see anymore. Time went by and you found yourself offered the chance to remedy to your blindness. But it doomed you to wear particular sunglasses every day of your life. A little cost considering what you've been through.

You suffered. You were still aching but less than these last month. Moreover you felt better each day passing. Only eternal scars remain. And to be here in S got you like you were free as much as before your accident. And you would thank Adam for this. Yet, you meant nothing, watching the same scenes which were playing in front of your eyes.

You were sitting on your motorbike far behind the last people composing the crowds ahead of you. Actually, the last time you came at S was when Adam had been defeated. Since then, you weren't coming as often as you should now. Everything was more peaceful and Adam abandoned this bad habit to smash people in the face with his own skateboard. Of course, the blue-haired show-off would never stop to make his little shows and big entrances. You don't think that one day his "hey bitches and bros and non-binary hoes" would leave your mind so easily.

Yet, even if you admired Adam as an remarkable skater, you wouldn't prevent yourself to hate him for everything he was aside all of it. He was "in love" as he told to anyone who would like to hear it with his partners of race. It was nothing like love. You didn't know how you manage to not go through the crowds to slap him right in the face. He didn't understand. He wouldn't anyway. Love is sweet, a fluttering sentiment which set upside-down your guts and your soul. It wasn't how you remembered this wonderful thing.

Anyways, Adam had been defeated by a rookie that you had the power to crush on a snowboard. Even if he was talented, had he the talent of someone able to go in the Olympic Games? You didn't think so. You had yourself a modified board. And right now before the attended race between two opponents, you were as if you were playing on the half-pipe near the start of the race.

You were jumping even higher than this little rookie and executing figures in air that were turning sick some of the people gathered in your audience. You were hearing the slight gasps of awe coming from several girls watching them. Even Langa applaused you in the distance with an annoying smile. That little group comprehending Shadow, Reki, Langa, Miya and the others was sincerely uselessly noisy. Though, they were sometimes giving you back a smile you had long forgotten it was existing. But you didn't care anymore. You were busy with your "switched back flip with nose grab" and to make people applause even louder around you.

They were kind and cute because even if the trick wasn't so hard, doing it on a skateboard was something else. And it earned you the nickname of Eagle in S. You were impressive to say the least and people were clearly stunned. What you didn't expect was to attract the boss' attention here. Adam. Actually, his little grieves left you as if you were like marble.

Not only was he sticking to you but he also was quite insisting in his behavior. You didn't like him at all. It may have been the second or the third night that you came on the half-pipe of S. No one challenged you that time. You just shrugged your shoulders and were going on the way to leave this place. The pressure, the people gathered here, the races and the clear lack of delicacy from them made you get away from here. A sort of repulsion ordered you to go away. A skatepark would be big enough to allow you to do the same show for any passerby. After all what was the point of tiring yourself by skating if no one could applause for your demonstration of pure talent. And today, several nights after Adam's defeat, you were leaving S for good this time. It has no point for you to stay.

Yet, Adam didn't want the same. He was observing you before Langa. So he caught you up while lights were dancing around him.

"Mmh... What a wonderful little bird I see here. Don't be scared my dove, I'm not going to bite you." Adam said both loudly and sensually, thus it made crowds look in the same moment towards you.

A heavy silence has just fallen onto the crowds. You have heard the wheels of Adam's skateboard behind you. And he came, leaving his hand on your hips, getting you closer and closer to him. You could feel his hands roaming and doing delicate circles on the fabric of your clothes. Such an intimate action while you could almost feel his head rest on your shoulder. He made a little comment about your scent. Does this man have really no shame ?

"Aren't you tired of your own bullshit, Adam? Losing once wasn't enough to bring humility in you?" you snapped back while the man gazed at you.

"Never, my sweet, stubborn little dove" Ainosuke whispered in your ear while his hands were circling around your waists.

His sweet, gentle, poisonous tone was near to give you shivers. You weren't able to discern within yourself if it was a sort of trespassing desire that was boiling in you or a fire of rage and the deep will to smash him with your skateboard. Probably both. Let's agree on the fact that this man was a living invitation to luxury and rough love. You were just a little smaller than him but strong enough to make him comply and kneel in front of you like a slut. You clicked your tongue and forcefully escaped from Adam's treacherous embrace.

"Alright Eagle. I challenge you into a beef" Adam called behind you.

"Carry on" You answered back while the crowds become immediately silent were watching you with great interest.

"A race. You and me. Right now. The loser become the slave of his opponent." Adam added with his usual disturbing smile.

For one of the first times since you were coming in S, it was one of your first beefs. Moreover, with the boss of all that mess. And finally, it involved something hidden behind all of this display. And you liked it. Why not enjoying fully the race and the aftermath. You used the back extremity of your skateboard you hit Adam in the belly and making him move backwards. You were almost ecstatic. You walked calmly until the start line, put lightly your skateboard on the ground and set your foot on the deck while you were waiting for Adam to come. Obviously, he made his way towards you.

"Mmh... I'll enjoy to turn you upside down after this race" Adam sensually whispered.

"Your self-confidence will kill you one day, filthy man" you replied with a dry tone.

"Let's say that now that I've lost my Eve, the only person in S having my attention is you my little dove. Be ready, I'm not going to be easy on you"

These last sentences would the death of you. His magma-like voice was burning your insides. How can someone warm you up so efficiently? That was a mystery. But you liked it. Adam was well-known to be kinky. You hated a little yourself at that time. You were falling for an insane guy who is now targeting you. Obviously, it was not in a romantic way. Yet, Adam remained a reachable fanstasm. And you were apparently one of his. The green fire came rapidly, thus the start of the race.

Adam became fastly the first. You forgot about everything and just tried to have fun. You were skating as if your board was a part of yourself, dodging rocks and Adam's attack. You knew very well that he didn't change that much after his first defeat here. He even did his little thing of holding you close to him with the sort of horns on his skateboard.

" I love the movement of your hips, so agile, so smooth, I can't prevent myself to wonder what it will feel like to love you fully until you will ache for attention under my touch. You are a snowboarder too, right?" Adam asked more or less.

"You could say that. But I'm not like that kid. I prefer half-pipes. Besides, you have really no shame, haven't you? Anyways, goodbye."

You increased your speed and left Adam behind. You were jumping the cliffs where the turns formed the shape of a snake with the lights in the night. While you were flying, you were shining with more and more complicated figures and graceful landings, making you significantly ahead of the blue-haired holy creature named Adam. He managed very quickly to catch you up. A little smile was playing on your lips. That was funny to see him a little bit in difficulty.

You were provoking him. That was unbelievable and remarkably bold of you to do so. You annoying smile was allowing to build desire and longing in Adam's heart. He was the king and yet, a little dove was playing with him shamelessly. Adam was so mesmerized by your own race that he barely realized he was in the factory. The screams of the people gathered in there dragged him from his thoughts. He saw you fly until the finish line and cross it. You win against him. A huge silent welcomed him.

"One of the first things you have not to lose when you run is your own concentration. I don't know what happened to you but it doesn't prevent that you weren't really skating. So for the beef, I cancel the slave thing." You declared when Adam went towards you.

You turned your back to him and headed to your motorbike followed by the blue-haired man. You didn't want to stay any longer. Adam's footsteps were soft behind yours.

"How can you cancel the slave thing, as you called it?" Adam demanded.

Seeing that he didn't have any answer, Adam reached you to catch your shoulder and make you turn to look at him.

"Because I'm the winner" you responded with a threatening tone.

"So having me doesn't interest you?" Adam questioned with a spark of deception.

"I didn't say that" you replied with a playful half-smile crossing your lips.

You were surrounded by darkness and no one cared anymore about you. For the people, you were remedying with your little issues about the beef. Nothing very interesting for them. Your hand climbed Adam's tensed thigh before going backwards to his ass and caressing it shamelessly. You heard the man getting a heavier breath and mumbling sinner sentences in your ear. You didn't even move when he came closer to enjoy the caress.

"Adam... You are such a slut... Look at you, you sound like a virgin discovering sex" You told with an incredible amount of heat on your voice.

You left your fingers coming down on his half-hard dick and rub it lightly. Just enough to give shivers to the man.

"Horny, aren't we?" you carried on while Adam was melting under your touch.

It was only simple caresses yet the man in front of you was letting himself go as if you were escaping and he won't have anymore opportunities to have you so close.

"More" demanded Adam while he has finally what he wanted so hard.

But you stopped here, creating frustration in the man.

"There's a love hotel down Crazy Rock. Come with your Grim Reaper costume." You requested with an overbearing tone.

Adam ordered to Tadashi who wasn't present in S that night to bring him to this place and the black clothes he was wearing against Langa. Once arrived in the building, he headed towards the receptionist who led him until the room. The space was dark and very classical for a love hotel but it was enough to arouse Adam. He felt as if your hands were still on him while he was changing his red costume. The memory of your hands trailing down his back to reach his ass and caressing it shamelessly was still unbelievably strong in his mind. Then he felt the touch join his cock, gently but still enough to make surrender to your touch. He desired you so much right now. Once he wore his Grim Reaper clothes, he laid down the mattress. He let himself go to the warmth he was feeling. He already wanted you so hard. He thought he was still dreaming when he felt the sudden touch of your hand on his neck.

"Ready to cum due to a shameless imagination. What a dirty little pet we have here. Were you planning to touch while you would wait for me? " You whispered in Adam's ear, getting him to have goosebumps.

Your fingers went down along his spine then reached the start of his ass. You were riding him from behind, each of your legs apart Ainosuke's body. You spanked his cheeks violently when you see you wouldn't get your answer, making the man moaning of both pain and pleasure.

"Use your tongue. You still have one, right?" you picked up after this unwanted silence.

"Yes" mumbled the submitted man.

"Louder. I don't hear you."you commanded.

"Yes"

He was speaking at the volume you wanted to listen. Loudly but not enough to disturb people out there.

"Better" you acknowledged with a neutral tone.

You got away from the position you have over Ainosuke. You were looking for the bad you brought with you. In the corner of your eye, you remarked the presence of a mirror. It could be useful but not now. You were secretly impatient to play with the king of S. You glanced at him and couldn't prevent a half-smile on your face. His hips were slightly higher than what would be normal. The blue-haired man was aching for your touch. Unhappily, it seemed sometimes you weren't as mean as some of masters with their human pet when it comes to tough, rough and painful but delicious sex. Well... It didn't matter actually. Your beautiful puppy lying on the mattress would love it anyway. You sincerely enjoyed the fact that this natural dominant male was completely under your control.

"Get up and kneel. Be rid of your clothes and keep your eyes on the wall. If you look at me I leave you here, tied and with a toy in your ass until you faint. Is that clear?" You ordered with a severe voice.

You didn't get any answer immediately.

"Yes". You heard behind you.

"Yes who?" You added.

"Yes Master" Adam ended while he just worked to be in his knees over the blankets.

The man got rid of his suit not so quickly. The fabric was comfortable and smooth, suiting perfectly his body. The memory of your touch was almost disappearing with him leaving aside all the clothes. He ended naked on the bed, his pale skin revealed to the air. He kept his eyes locked on the wall and he didn't have any access to the mirror to watch what you were doing. He only heard some noises somewhere behind him. Adam was shivering litghtly because of anticipation. He didn't want you to be kind with him. The rougher the better. Anyways, love and pain were both the faces of a coin, right? He submits but you serve.

Ainosuke felt your hand climbing along his leg and rest a few seconds on his thigh. You slided a lubed toy in his hole. You went as deeply as you could without bruising you pet and without leaving without any sensations. His insides were slightly stretched enough to emphasize the rubbing which you started from a few feets away.

You had the time to change in a black leathery pants and high boots, all black, with an open shirt lazily flying along your sides. After that, you were just watching Ainosuke's nakedness from behind. He was well-shaped. You couldn't say more. And this beautiful insane man was craving for your attention. You knew the effect the toy had. The more Adam was holding back his moan, the more the toy is going to make him lose his mind. You knew very well that the man had a certain endurance. Yet, it had no effect when the right points within his body were touched and loved.

You were still gentle. You could be more cruel and less careful about your little pet. Adam knew it very well. He was sure he looked like a little virgin taking pleasure for the first time but the thing inside of him suppressed all of his strength. He was grunting and moaning like a whore and he loved it. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't you.

"More..." Breathed the man while his whole body was totally shaking.

"More? Really?" you asked while you were enjoying the frustration on Adam's face and the red hue on his cheeks.

"Inside me... Touch me..."you went to caress Ainosuke's naked ass before spanking it another time.

"You have no permission to cum, dirty pet. I'll punish you otherwise."you warned with a threatening tone in your voice.

The heat was slightly consuming the blue-haired man and pleasure was way too heavy for him, almost choking sometimes. You would be the death of him if it carried on.

"Please..."Adam silently begged while you were heading to an armchair not far away from the display in front of you.

Were you sadistic? Probably. You had one of your legs hanging on the side of your seat and watching Ainosuke fighting the destroying pleasure inside of him. You were so desirable. No one would ever say the contrary. It was only the start for your adorable pet. But it wasn't enough for you.

"Come here." You commanded with a monotonous but commanding tone in your voice.

You saw Adam moving to reach you. He stumbled on the few meters he had to make to come at you. He knelt in front of you but it sounded more like he wasn't able to carry his own weigh. He was looking up at you with eyes tainted of pleasure. He caressed your legs as any good cat would do to please his master and get some food or any touch. Your hand reached his chin and you lift it without any delicacy. A few more and Adam was going to surrender and leaving himself being overwhelmed by pleasure. His red eyes were blurry and full of lust and you locked yours on his. Your hand went in his hair and you brought him closer to you.

"Take it. And do it well, slut" you requested with an overbearing tone.

You felt shaking hands roaming over your leather pants and undo the belts resting on your hips. His fingers freed your half-hard dick but he was too slow.

"Faster" you ordered.

Adam put his finger on the skin of your shaft, then his lips. You hardly held back a grunt of pleasure while you were feeling his hot mouth around your cock. That was divine but not enough. You settled your fingers in Ainosuke's hair and pulled it closer.

"Come on, slut"

The blue-haired man wasn't slow but it wasn't fast enough and it frustrated you. You ordered him for more speed and he did it. Adam was all focus on your pleasure, worshipping you with his tongue and his lips. It was warm inside his mouth. You wanted to dirty your sub with your seeds and make him feel like a doll in your hands. Besides, you increased the speed of the toy inside Adam's ass. He was fighting tou bring you pleasure and not to cum. His whole body must ache but you didn't really care. You wanted more. You helped a little Ainosuke with his movements. His tongue was caressing you shamelessly, and he was all focused on you. You were almost fucking his throat.

"You are really a whore my pet. Worse than a dog in heat. Loot at you"

You led his eyes to the mirror not far from you. Adam moaned when he saw the image of himself. The red hue on his cheeks while he was taking your cock into his mouth. The sight was mesmerizing. Then, lower, the pre-sperm was dripping from his own sex. Adam wasn't able to suffer it anymore and the last image had been the death of his limits and he cummed lankily on the ground. His muscles all tensed relaxed in a few seconds. He spilled his white liquid everywhere at the bottom of the armchair while he was moaning with your shaft still in his throat.

You raised your hand and gave him an echoing slap which made the blue-haired man fall on his back, covered of his dirty sperm. You perceived Adam hard cock raising between his legs.

"Kinky whore. You are not even able to handle it, right? Such a disobedient little puppy. You'll be punished, you know that, aren't you?" you threatened with a sweet voice, penetrating under Ainosuke's flesh.

You were watching your pet getting up from his position on the ground.

"Be happy that I'm not going to order you to lick it, silly kitten. On the bed, now. Twenty whiplash, and if you are not obedient, I'll double that number. Understood?"

"Please Master, no!" Adam surprisingly begged with and hoarse voice to you.

"This is the cost for your insolence and disobedience. It could be a hundred so take what I allow you" You replied without any softness.

You gave the order to your dog to be astride on the bed, on all four. Adam settled over the blankets and stayed still. The man heard you get the tool in your hand. And without telling him, he felt a painful burn on his ass, followed by your hand which rubbed it. Ainosuke heard himself grunt to the sudden soothing caress.

"It was the first. I won't be that kind after. Count them. At any mistake, It'll be thirty"

You blowed him again and your sub was counting but it was painful and red traces were appearing on his skin. You weren't soft with him and appreciated his delicious reactions of suffering and adoration. The toy was still in his ass, driving him crazy from both inside and outside. Adam wasn't able to keep up anymore and at the end on the punishment, he fell over the blankets, naked, full of shame, pleasure and love. He was crying due to the overwhelming amount of feelings. His shaft was so hard that it was painful and he wanted freedom from you. His pants were perceptible in the silence of the room. The blue-haired man felt your hand on his ribcage and forcefully turn him on his back.

He saw climb over the mattress and settle near him. Your finger roamed over your pet's belly and touch his nipples, making him shiver and grunt. Your softness was welcome for Adam. His body was aching due to tension and slaps but pleasure was still present in his blood and adrenaline was keeping him conscious. Suddenly, the toy Ainosuke had in his ass had a different movement, more intense, more rubbing and making him moan loudly.

"Did you seriously think it was ended?" you questioned with a playful tone. "No. Of course not".

You got up and put yourself in a riding way. You pushed your shaft inside Adam's mouth and start to fuck his throat again. Fingers curling down the sheets and becoming white. Your sub was testifying of this pleasure. And you were too. Your hips were getting faster and faster and Adam's eyes were rolling backwards while pleasure was burning him. You were silently moaning and keeping your features still but it was hard when your little pet's tongue was that agile and smart to find the areas able to make you shudder. It felt like eternity till you finally cummed inside of Ainosuke's mouth. Your sub swallowed everything and as a reward you ordered him to change of position and to rest on his belly. You removed the toy from his ass and caressed it softly.

"Master..." called quietly Adam.

"Mmh?" you responded with distance in your behavior towards him.

"Please. Fuck me." begged silently the man.

Where was Adam, the king of S, almost undefeated? Where was the show-off, the insane guy? You knew very well where he was. He was subdued to every of your desire now, drunken by pain and pleasure, knocked by envy. He wanted you in the simplest way. The incubus became the innocent virgin and you were his master. Nothing was left from the skater man that you met at the nightfall. He was just a body aching for softness after a hardship, pleading for quietness now. And more sincere than he never had been until tonight. He needed you.

"Please Master..." whispered again Adam.

But his begging stopped when Adam felt your dick against his hole. A slight moan escaped from him and you started to bury yourself in him. His insides were warm and comfortable but so tight. The rubbing was divine and you could help yourself but start to fuck his ass very slowly to push him to worship you. Adam had his hips hanging a little in air as you were thrusting to give you both an amazing amount of pleasure.

"P-Please Master... More..." moaned Adam while you were almost hitting his ass.

It was so nice to see the man so submitted to his needs coming from you. You couldn't help yourself but started to thrust more and more quickly and fastly. The sound of your flesh against each other was echoing in the room and you liked it. You got rougher and rougher but it was still nice and finally, you let yourself be. You felt Adam's hole tightening around your shaft for the second time. Your hands slide down his hips to find his own sex so as to apply languid caresses. It was too much for him and his muscled yet thin body sank on the bed and you followed him in his climax not long after him.

You were panting heavily and your pet was actually nearly fainting. You took him into a warm embrace and rubbed his skin to soothe him. You didn't have the time for a real aftercare because he fell asleep immediately. You would wait him to take a needed shower. For the time that you had, you left him be.

Adam had been a wonderful sub. You were happy. But you didn't have the intention to stay with him. If he wanted you, then maybe you should have a more serious and deeper conversation. But now, it wasn't what you wanted.

[heliads]

Lucky Number 6

Based on this request: “5 times Luke almost admitted his feelings to the reader (Julie’s BFF) and one time he actually does?”

masterlist

#1: The one time Alex and Reggie interrupt him

Luke’s heading over to Julie’s studio. It’s been a long day, and a pretty boring one at that. With Julie at school all day, he and the boys can’t really play as a band until the afternoon when she comes home. They had been distracting themselves outside the house, but Luke left to return back to Julie’s house because Willie showed up and he’s not really in the mood to watch Alex flirt with the skateboarder any longer. Reggie stayed behind, claiming that he was going to be a chaperone, but even that doesn’t really tempt Luke to stay.

When he shows up at the house, he notices that Julie is already inside the studio, talking to a girl who’s got her back turned to him. When Julie glances up and sees him, she gestures for Luke to join the two of them. “Luke! Good to see you! This is my best friend Y/N!” The girl- Y/N- turns around to face him, and in that moment Luke swears that time stops. 

She’s beautiful. No, more than that. Gorgeous. Her eyes are warmer than a sparking fire, and they draw Luke in like the opening notes of a guitar riff that he’s been dying to play. Her smile is infectious, and he feels himself start to smile in return. He barely manages to stammer out a sentence. “I’m Luke. You’re-” He’s cut off as Reggie and Alex poof into existence, and the two boys instantly start talking over him in their rush to speak to Y/N. The words die on his tongue. You’re really pretty.

Luke feels a slight pang of annoyance that his friends would interrupt him at this moment, but as he watches Y/N talking excitedly with them, he realizes that it might have been for the best. What was Luke going to do, anyway? Ask Y/N out on a date when she’s the only one in the world who can see him? Y/N’s turned back to him, now, and the intensity of her gaze makes Luke feel like he’s caught in a strobe light. “Luke, weren’t you saying something?” Luke just shakes his head. “Nah, forgot. Nothing important.” Nothing important indeed. This isn’t going to go very well.

#2: The one time Julie interrupts him

The setting is a fairly large jazz club, home to throngs of people milling about and listening to the music of Julie and the Phantoms. Julie’s killing it on the vocals, of course, and Luke feels like he’s coasting on the clouds as he plays along on his guitar. The entire club is full of people, but yet Luke’s gaze keeps returning to one person and one person alone: Y/N. Before he knows it, the song is over, and he’s bowing in unison with the rest of his bandmates before poofing out of existence along with his guitar. 

Luke notices that Y/N’s heading backstage, and so he poofs a few feet in front of her. She jumps, startled, then flashes him a grin. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” Luke winces. “Sorry! Keep forgetting that randomly appearing out of nowhere isn’t normal.” Y/N laughs, and the sound makes Luke want to make a thousand more jokes just to hear it again. “No worries. By the way, you were amazing out there! You guys sound terrific.” Luke can’t help but smile at her words. “Us guys?” She nods. “You.” 

Maybe it’s the pounding of the music overhead, or the adrenaline of performing, but Luke takes a step closer to Y/N. He watches as she tilts her head up at him, not backing away and maybe even intrigued. His heart feels like it’s pounding a million times per minute. “You know, Y/N, I-” There’s the sound of running footsteps behind him, and Julie jogs up next to the two of them. “There you are! I was looking for you guys everywhere!”

Luke realizes how this looks, the two of them inches away from each other, and he backs away quickly before Julie can realize what he was going to say to Y/N. What he’s been trying to say, but never got the chance. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, we’re, uh, over here. Good work out there!” Y/N nods at this, congratulating Julie on the performance. Julie starts to lead her best friend away, but Y/N glances back one last time as if to apologize for not finishing the conversation. Luke can only stand there. How can he tell Y/N how he feels if he keeps getting interrupted?

#3: The one time when she’s into music too

Luke’s bored. School’s technically still in session, but he doesn’t have anything to do and so he shows up to Los Feliz High School anyway. Julie’s in the middle of a test, so he can’t bother her. Instead, Luke just wanders down the halls, idly making lockers open and close when he’s sure nobody can see it. As he rounds a corner, he hears something. It’s faint, coming from further down the hall. Curious, he follows it, and ends up finding himself in front of a closed door to a music room. It’s empty, except for one person seated at a piano. Y/N.

He can’t help himself, and Luke walks through the door to come to a stop in the room. Y/N’s bent over the piano, focusing on the piece at hand. It’s simple, certainly far less advanced than anything Julie’s been working on, but it’s beautiful and makes Luke stand still, watching with a slight smile on his face. A few seconds later, Y/N looks up, her hands falling silent at the keys.

Luke walks over, smiling. “I didn’t know you could play. You sound amazing.” Y/N grins, nervously straightening the sheet music in front of her. “I can’t, or at least not very well. Julie’s teaching me so I can accompany her if she needs anything. She says she wants me to learn because if I play her pieces, she can listen and find mistakes more easily. I’m not sure how much that really works, but I’ve been meaning to learn for a while so I figured I might as well go with it.”

Luke nods, heading over to the piano bench. Y/N scoots a few inches over, and Luke takes a seat next to her. He considers the sheet music propped up on the piano. “To be honest, I’m not that good at piano either. I was always more of a guitar kind of guy, but I’ll learn if you’re there with me.” Y/N beams up at him. “Sounds like a plan. There’s this one line, right here, that I’m having some trouble with.”

Luke nods, scanning the notes. He positions his hands on the keys, skimming just a few millimeters away from Y/N’s fingers. “I think it goes like this.” He plays a few chords, and she nods, brow furrowed in concentration as she tries it herself. Their hands move in tandem, his guiding hers to the proper places on the keys in a quiet dance to the music she’s playing. Luke realizes that Y/N understands the piece now, but he can’t quite convince himself to move his hands away. His arm is neatly wrapped around her shoulders, just a hair away from touching her.

The room is silent, and Luke realizes that she has finished playing the piece. He looks up at her, at the way her chin is tilted up just a few inches away from his own. He wants to say something, anything, but his mouth feels dry and he finds he can’t do anything but stay silent. Y/N blushes slightly, looking away. Just then, her phone rings, and Luke notices the caller ID displays her mother’s name. He unwraps his arms from around her. “I think you had better answer that. It looks important.” She nods, reaching for her phone. Is it just his imagination, or does she look just as reluctant as he does to end this moment?

#4: The one time he realizes he won’t be enough

Luke’s feeling determined. He has to say something to Y/N, to tell her he loves her. He’s been dancing around it for a while now, but he thinks at last he has the confidence to speak up. How is it that he can play with the band in front of massive crowds, but yet talking to a pretty girl makes his heart pound like a drum in his chest?

Y/N’s back at Julie’s house again, and they’re getting ready for another garage show. They hadn’t planned on doing any more performances at Julie’s house, considering that the Phantoms were so well-known that they could afford to play at larger venues, but Ray had asked and so the band would deliver. Y/N’s helping them set up, and Luke’s about to tell her how he feels. For real this time, no interruptions.

He rounds the corner of his house and sees her, the confidence in her stature and the smile in her eyes. It takes him a second longer to realize that she’s talking to somebody. Nick, that boy from school who’d had a crush on Julie. Guess he’d moved on. Luke hangs back, realizing that Y/N can’t see him from this angle. As he watches, Y/N laughs, hitting Nick playfully with the palm of her hand. They look so happy together, and get along so well.

There’s some difference here in the way she acts with Nick than with him, and it hits Luke like a ton of bricks. Nick’s right there, and he can be a regular, ordinary person with her. She can hit him playfully, can tap him on the shoulder, can take his hand and never let it go. Luke feels his ghostliness keenly in this moment, in a way he’s never felt it before. Will it always be like this, with him an undying outsider? Will he have to watch as she grows up and moves on from him, even when he can’t move on from her?

Y/N is starting to turn around now, and Luke quickly moves away before she can see him. So much for that conversation happening- he can’t see a future where she would ever want to be with him. Why would she, when no one else can even look at him?

#5- The one time there’s a miscommunication

There’s a crowded afterparty at Flynn’s house. Flynn had been proud of Julie and the band, and, not wanting Carrie to take advantage of the crowd’s high spirits, had hosted the party herself. Luke is here, although he’s not quite sure why. Nobody can see him anyway. In fact, the only reason he showed up at all is because Y/N had asked him to. He’d do anything for that girl, he knows that now. He doesn’t even know where she is, and he’s still here. Luke’s head is starting to pound from all of the noise, and he heads out to a quiet room out back to let his thoughts settle.

There’s a quiet noise behind him, and he turns to see Y/N standing next to the door. She smiles at him. “Not quite enjoying yourself?” Luke shrugs. “It’s kind of hard to appreciate the party when you’re not really there to everyone else.” Y/N smiles. “You’re here to me, Julie, and your bandmates. You can still hear the music. Isn’t that enough to make it different than most nights?” Luke smiles slightly in spite of himself. “You’re right. I apologize.” He looks at Y/N with an obviously feigned pout that makes her giggle.

Y/N considers the red plastic cup in her hands, then looks at Luke through eyes that have suddenly turned serious. “Luke, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now about something.” Luke nods slowly. “Shoot.” Y/N sighs, letting her words spill out in a flood as if letting them churn inside her head for a second longer would’ve drowned her. “I love you, Luke. I think I have for a while now.”

All Luke can do is stand there. Is this really happening? He wants to look around for the distraction, for the inevitable interruption that always seems to happen whenever he tries to confess his feelings to her. This can’t be real. Why would she ever feel the same way about him? Luke comes back to reality when he realizes that Y/N isn’t looking at him with the same expression. In fact, she seems far sadder than normal. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Do you not have anything to say?”

Luke’s eyes widen. “What? No, that’s not- not what I meant.” The door to the room opens, and Alex and Reggie bound inside, laughing. Y/N flinches when she hears them come in. “I guess I know how you feel. I think I’m going to go.” Luke reaches out his arm to her, panicked. “Wait! I-” She’s not listening anymore, already turning to leave. 

#6: The one time he actually does

Reggie and Alex glance at her, then turn their attention back to him. Reggie throws an arm around his shoulders, and Alex does the same. “Hey, guess what! Flynn thinks we should perform again. Come on, we’ve got everything set up.” Luke shakes his head, trying in vain to see where Y/N went. “I can’t, I’ve got to talk to Y/N. I think I really messed up.”

Reggie rolls his eyes, grinning. “You can talk to her later. Come on! We have to go. Are you really going to give up a chance to play with the band?” Luke looks at his friend apologetically. “Yeah, I think I am. Sorry, but I have to go.” With that, he shrugs off his friend’s arms, diving out of the room.

It takes him a while to find Y/N. He poofs in and out of different rooms, searching for the girl he loves. After a minute or two, he finds her. She’s standing alone in the garden out back, staring at the flowers with an expression that looks all shades of blue. She glances up when she sees Luke poof into existence next to her.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have told you that, we should have stayed friends. You don’t have to come cheer me up, Luke.” Luke shakes his head. “I don’t want us to be friends.” Y/N looks taken aback. “What?” Luke just grins. “I love you, Y/N. I don’t want to be friends because I love you. I’ve been trying to confess for ages now but people keep interrupting me.” Y/N stares. “What? Then why didn’t you say anything when I told you?”

Luke grimaces. “Honestly, I’m not quite sure why. I think I was just so surprised that I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t realize how it would look until you left.” Y/N laughs, slight incredulity starting to tint her smile. “You’re serious? You really do love me?” Luke flashes her a grin. “Really do. Have since the moment I met you. I’m just glad that you love me back, or I would have been trying to confess many, many more times.” Is this really working out? Luke’s not sure what kind of cosmic luck he must have, but Y/N actually likes him back. Well, maybe the sixth time’s the charm for telling someone you love them.

[naminethewriter]

Skater Dark Sides AU (bullet fic) 6

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Ao3

It’s been a year and I finally finish this thing! The other Sides finally make an appearance and it kinda has an ending, I guess? But I never had a proper ending for this, so I guess this’ll have to do. Maybe one day I’ll add onto this, maybe not. If you want to do something with this, feel free to but please inform me, I’d love to see it 💛💚

Again this will include: romantic Dukeceit, platonic Dukexiety, brotherly Creativitwins, everything else is open to interpretation so far

No trigger warnings I could think of, if you want me to tag something, send me a message/ask/tag/comment 🥰

let’s finally meet Virgil

he’s new in town after one of his mom’s got a new job

basically he’s in the Gabriella Montez situation where he’s moved around a lot but now his moms made him a promise that they’ll stay in this town until he graduates

they move during the last two weeks of vacation so he has some time to explore the town before school starts

he started skating when he was quite young and it helped him find some place to hang out in whatever town he moved to

so after they’re moved in and he has some free time he goes on a drive around the city to find a good skate park

that’s when he comes across Remus’ gang (Janus isn’t there that day)

similar to how Janus was initiated, he was noticed by some members of the gang and they started asking questions about his skills

being on a skateboard is one of the few things that let’s Virgil forget his worries, so as he shows of his tricks he relaxes and soon is comfortable with the guys

eventually Remus comes over and they start talking and getting along

Virgil becomes fast friends with the gang

Remus might just be a bit enthusiastic as he tells Janus about him and he gets a bit jealous

(it’s his first relationship and it’s the first time Remus met someone new since they got together and he has a hard time convincing his brain that his boyfriend won’t just fall out of love with him)

when Janus meets Virgil he might just be a bit snippy so they get off on the wrong foot

Remus talks to Janus about it when they get home and Janus admits to being in the wrong and simply worried, Remus plans to reassure him more often

Janus apologises to Virgil and while he accepts it they still aren’t friends

school starts again and Remus moves in with Janus who now feels more secure, knowing that he can spend time with his boyfriend even when he can’t make it to the hang-out

Virgil is nervous about school but since they’ve done it so many times already, he and his mom are quick to get him registered and shown around and he’s on time for his first class

once he sits down there’s a boy in front of him immediately who introduces himself as Patton

Patton welcomes him and offers him a more detailed tour and explanation of the school which Virgil accepts

at lunch he’s then introduced to Logan and Roman, Patton’s best friends

Virgil is very much confused when he sees Roman, considering he’s been hanging out with Remus for at least a week and has been told that he dropped out of school

he decides not to say anything since Roman acts very differently from Remus and showed no signs of recognizing him but he keeps a close eye on him

Virgil gets along great with Logan; Patton is a bit much but he kinda enjoys his peppiness but he and Roman get off on the wrong foot and it quickly turns into bitching at each other

after lunch Virgil has a class with Logan and asks him about Roman

he tells him that Roman is scared of failure since his parents always held such high hopes for him and that he fears they’ll treat him like his brother if he fails to meet their expectations

Virgil uses the opportunity to ask about said brother and gets confirmation that it’s Remus

while Virgil likes Logan and Patton fine, he decides to keep it to himself that he knows Remus even when Logan tells him that they’ve been looking for him since Roman’s worried

with even that little information he can guess why Remus left but he will talk to him about it first

however since starting at a new school is stressful even when you make friends on the first day, Virgil doesn’t manage to meet up with Remus and his crew until the weekend

he just talks with Remus a while before bringing up Roman

Janus is with them, himself exhausted from his first school week and the assholes of his class

Virgil and him bond a bit by comparing the amount of assholery they had to deal with so far

eventually Virgil mentions that he’s met Roman

Remus gets unusually quiet and even Janus doesn’t know how to react to that, he hasn’t really talked to Remus about his family since he learned that he had a brother and his parents didn’t search for him

what neither of them know is that Remus has been thinking a lot about his brother lately

since so much has changed for him in the last few months and he now feels like he build up a steady life for himself (he has a job, a boyfriend, and a home), he was thinking about maybe contacting his brother but wasn’t sure how

but now Virgil’s there and apparently became friends with Roman’s friends

he asks a few questions about how Roman’s doing and Virgil complains about him a bit more which helps Remus relax

they decide to mess with him for a while

Virgil will drop increasingly more obvious hints about Remus until Roman catches on

he starts by calling Roman ‘Princey’ as a reference to Remus nickname ‘Duke’

then he makes comments about appearance like saying that maybe Roman should try growing a moustache or dye his hair – at which point Patton asks him to stop because Roman is sensitive about things related to Remus and that Virgil might not know better but should not bring it up again

so he has confirmation that they get the connection to Remus now even if they think it’s coincidental

this continues for a while

Logan is the first one to actually ask Virgil if he met Remus which he doesn’t hide but Logan simply nods and says that he doesn’t want to get involved with the twin’s conflict so he won’t tell Roman but he’s glad to know that Remus is doing well

it takes Roman about a month before he blows up and accuses Virgil of conspiring against him

which he had been doing so he doesn’t deny it

Roman demands to see his brother but Virgil says no which leads to Roman chasing him but like Remus’ teammates, Virgil manages to lose him

he tells Remus that the jig is up and they agree that they’ll tease Roman a bit longer with the chases but that Virgil would eventually lead him to their hang-out spot

it’s Patton’s pleading that makes Virgil stop around a week later

Patton hasn’t really interfered much until that point since he felt like it wasn’t his place to but Roman’s been getting really frazzled and angry and he didn’t want him to lose it

Virgil agrees that that would be going too far

so he lures Roman to the hang-out spot with Patton and Logan in tow

Remus knew they were coming and was prepared but Roman didn’t know he would succeed after failing so many times, so he’s stunned when he’s actually face to face with his brother which gives Remus time to make an overdramatic speech

Roman stops him after around a minute by pulling him into a hug

Remus freezes at first but hugs him back after a few seconds

Roman admits how worried he’d been and that he was glad that Remus is okay

Remus tries to play it off but that just makes Roman mad and the yelling starts

they accuse each other of being selfish, of breaking the family and a lot of other stuff

Janus and Patton have to pull them apart before they start hitting each other

the other members of Remus’ gang excuse themselves so the brothers can resolve their issues

Logan steps in to moderate their talk, ensuring that they can finish without getting interrupted and no more yelling starts

Remus starts by explaining how bad he felt at home, how he was sick of their parents comparing them, how school made him feel worthless and that he was starting to hate Roman a bit and he didn’t want that because it wasn’t fair, none of it was his fault and he was just living his life but Remus needed to get away from that or he would do something he’d regret

Roman is quiet for a bit which is weird considering how much he wanted to say before

but he does eventually talk about how he was feeling pressured by the comparisons as well, that he could see Remus was struggling but didn’t know how to help, that he was scared of what would happen if he did say something and that he was scared when Remus left

it hurt him a lot that Remus’ friends wouldn’t tell him where he went, that Remus would just leave him behind like that without even trying to talk to him first but that he now understands why he didn’t

he asks Remus if he will come home with him to talk to their parents and maybe resolve their issues

Remus refuses, he doesn’t want them to try and force him into a life he doesn’t want again if they know he can survive on his own and won’t come running back to them, he’d like to wait until he’s 18

Roman doesn’t think they would do that but Remus is adamant that he doesn’t want to risk it

Roman asks him where he’s living then and Remus finally properly introduces Janus as his boyfriend and roommate

he’s shocked to hear that not only did Remus get a boyfriend before him but that they’re already living together which leads to more bickering between the twins but more good natured this time

Janus, Virgil, Patton and Logan watch and agree that the new school year’s going to be a lot for all of them, having to keep the twins in control and graduating

They’ll try to help each other out and are officially all friends

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

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

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

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

check out the post-script drabble here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

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

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

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

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

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

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

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

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

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who are you to resist?

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

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

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

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

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

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

God. 

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

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

Sighing, you pick up. 

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

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

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

“To do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about food?”

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

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

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

Who else could it be?

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

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

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

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

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

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

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

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

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

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

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

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a knock on your door. 

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

And then, you hear,

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

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

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

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

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

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He dashes down the hallway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

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

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

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

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

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

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about a dress?”

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

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

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

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

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

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

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

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

You are not pre-law.

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

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

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

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

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

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

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tired?”

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

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

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

And then, you spot him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

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

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

“You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

“Why would I?” 

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, what—”

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

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

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

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

soulmate au?????

Soulmate Au where things that people love/hate appear tattooed on their soulmate’s body. If they love it it’ll be on their front, and if they hate it it’ll appear on their back. The more important it is the closer it is to the heart. They can also move around/disappear over time.

Tim Drake is two years old when he receives his first soulmarks. There are two: the names Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain are found in elegant script over his heart.

He was alone when he’d found it, attempting to learn how to button up his shirt, and they’d sprung from his skin. He didn’t bother crying. He’d long since lost hope that someone would come for him if he did.

Instead, he’d waited for a maid to come into the room on her rounds and called her over.

The woman had smiled kindly as she explained soulmarks. How they were actually a good thing. How they meant that he was going to fall in love one day and one day he could get married! Like his mommy and daddy!

He’d seen how his mom and dad were sometimes. He wasn’t all that impressed.

Tim decided that the whole ‘soulmate’ thing could wait. He had a shirt to learn how to button.

~

On the other side of the world, however, Marinette Dupain Cheng is born without any tattoos on her body. Her parents don’t think much of it. She was just older than her soulmate, then. Or maybe she didn’t have one. That was fine.

But then, three years later, a computer appeared over her heart.

Marinette didn’t even notice until she was pulling off her shirt for a bath.

She hadn’t been shocked or scared like Tim had been, instead she’d beamed and waddled over to her mother with the widest grin on her face.

“Maman! Maman! Look! I have a soulmark!”

Sabine had smiled and turned to look but, much to Marinette’s confusion, it quickly morphed into an anxious expression.

Then her mother brought the smile back and she figured it must have been her imagination. The woman had reached out to ruffle her hair.

Marinette had finished getting ready and gotten in the bath, and her mother looked her over for a soulmark as she cleaned her. But there wasn’t one. There wasn’t one on her back and, outside of the one that had just formed, there wasn’t one on her front.

Then what was going on? Even abused kids tended to have their parent’s names somewhere on their bodies. But there was nothing.

The next guess was that her soulmate’s parents were dead. Usually, orphans had their housemates’ names on them, so the kid would have to be on the streets. Could a street kid really get enough access to a computer that it appears over their heart?

Sabine finished toweling off her daughter and pressed a kiss to her head after pulling her shirt on.

“Want to watch Pere bake some?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up and she nodded.

~

Whoever Tim’s soulmate was, they were really good at making friends. His chest was littered with names by the end of their first year of school.

And then there was one name on his back, right over his heart: Chloe Bourgeois. He frowned when he saw it.

For the first time since his first soulmark had appeared, he found himself curious about what was going on.

He pulled out his computer and looked up the name, not expecting to find much.

But, it turned out he did. After running an article through google translate (which didn’t work great) he managed to gather that she was the daughter of the mayor of Paris.

So... his soulmate was French.

(Unless they just had a vendetta against a random 3-year-old. Unlikely, though.)

He pulled up a new tab. It never hurt to learn a new language.

~

Their likes and dislikes slowly cropped up on their bodies as time went on.

Tim had smiled despite himself when he saw the pictures cropping up. A whisk was found on his shoulder, and then a video game console popped up on his stomach, and then a sewing needle and buttons could be seen under their parent’s names. On his back, he could find what appeared to be homework and broccoli. Whoever his soulmate was, their life seemed quaint and pleasant.

Marinette had been happy to see all the little things popping up over herself as well. A circus tent on the sole of her foot, a skateboard on her neck, a camera by the computer. On her back, she could see what looked like playing cards. She thought all their hobbies sounded cute (if a bit random). She was just concerned about the distinct lack of names on her body; she hoped that they were at least getting enough social interaction.

~

When she was twelve, it finally happened: a name appeared!

She stared at the script that had displaced the computer and her eyebrows knit together.

Batman.

Maybe a pet’s name? Human names tended to give a first and last name, so...

She typed it into her phone to try and translate it to French and her eyes widened when it actually gave information on someone in this place called Gotham.

A vigilante?

She laid back in her bed and frowned to herself.

In order for a person to show up as a name, there had to be a personal connection. If there wasn’t, like a celebrity crush, it would show up as a picture. But this was text, so…

Well, she hoped that her soulmate was safe.

Over time, more names appeared. They were all just as odd.

Nightwing?

Batgirl?

A simple google search showed they were vigilantes, too. She frowned slightly.

As long as they were okay, she supposed she should just be happy that they were talking to good people.

Besides, being friends with vigilantes seemed kind of cool. She could understand the appeal. She wished that Paris had something like that.

~

When he was fifteen a polka-dotted yoyo appeared over his heart, displacing their family’s names slightly. He stared at the yoyo for a minute in the mirror and then snickered to himself.

“Damn. They must really like yoyos.”

He laughed to himself and glanced at his back to see if anything changed, and was surprised to find that Chloe’s name had been moved away to make room for…

Was that a butterfly?

“And hate butterflies, apparently.”

~

She stared at the tiny bird over her heart.

Computers, skateboards, circuses, photography, and… birdwatching?

Whoever her soulmate was, their hobbies had range.

~

Tim had been changing out of his Robin costume when the names started disappearing.

Panic filled him. He’d heard before that, when your soulmate dies, your tattoos start to disappear.

But a few stayed, as did their hobbies.

He looked over the remaining names.

Their parents were still there, right next to the yoyo. Their family life was okay…

He stared at the other name and his eyebrows knit together.

Who names their kid Chat Noir?

He shook his head slightly. Maybe his soulmate had a black cat and wasn’t good at naming things.

Tim checked his back, mostly out of habit more than anything, and frowned to himself.

The butterfly had disappeared, and in its place were two names:

Lila Rossi and Hawkmoth.

~

She grinned as she twirled around in the dress she’d made. She was rather proud of it, it had a nice red and black color scheme.

She started taking it off, only to realize something.

Everything was gone.

She looked over her skin, running her fingers over where all the tiny tattoos had once been and felt tears form in her eyes.

Her soulmate was…

And then, slowly but surely, something appeared on her chest.

She wiped her eyes and looked at it, only to frown.

A gag gun that said ‘BANG’.

Nerves rattled around inside her. Something was definitely wrong, she could tell. But how could she fix it?

Maybe she could convince Master Fu to give her the horse miraculous? She could drop into Gotham as Ladybug for a little while and check up on them? Sure, she had no idea who her soulmate was, but she knew who they hung out with. She should at least make sure they’re okay.

A few hours later she was dumped unceremoniously onto a Gotham rooftop.

She looked up at the portal Master Fu had dropped her through and made a rude hand gesture, then pushed herself to her feet. She walked to the edge of the roof, dusting herself off as she went, and looked over the side.

Wow, this place definitely looked like the most dangerous city in the world. She could see a guy holding a gun while walking an old lady across the street it was so bad.

She pulled out her phone and looked up a picture of the vigilantes that she’d seen on her chest. Nightwing… Batgirl…  Batman…

Man, did they have to wear such dark colors? It was night! How dare they do the smart thing and make it hard to see them!

Fine. Time to wonder around and pray, she supposed.

She had been considering detransforming and seeing if she could buy a coffee when she heard a click behind her head.

Ah. Fuck.

~~~

Part 1/21, 34k words in all

Next

The version on AO3 was edited by me to make it better (in my opinion) but this is the original version if you'd prefer that

You didn’t really give me any specifics so I’m sorry if this didn’t turn out like you wanted. You were probably expecting fluff but uhhhhhh,,, don’t know why you were asking ME for that --

[writhingcreature]

I LOVE the idea of jock/nerd Mericcup and cheerleader/jock Rapunstrid, do you have any more headcanons for that au?

I tried writing this and got distracted and now O have to start from the beginning so... let’s try this again

- Hiccup keeps trying to ask Merida out but his awkwardness and self Doubt keep tying his tongue and hands and feet and he fails again and again. Merida knows what he’s trying to say but she wants to give him the chance to do it since she knows it might hurt his pride if she asks him. Eventually she does anyway though and Hiccup is so relieved he’s been put out of his misery he kisses her right then and there and everyone’s like OoO

- Hiccup and Astrid are neighbors and they grew up right next door to each other. Like, saw each other through the window and climbed onto each other’s roofs and such. They did that thing where they opened their windows and just... talked if they were too lazy to climb up onto the roof. So they’re like actually really close friends. As kids Astrid always found Hiccup annoying and it was like “your mom is friend with my mom” but eventually he started tutoring her and she thought she was doing fine at school but suddenly she was acing everything and it all made sense and after that she thought Hiccup was cool

- Merida and Rapunzel live quite a bit from each other but Merida skateboards and Rapunzel goes on morning bike rides and walks and jogs and skates (on rollerblades) and really ANYTHING that gets her out in the morning. They end up meeting when Merida falls off her skateboard and busting her knee - Rapunzel took care of it with the med kit she always takes with her everywhere. After that they were best friends and upon hitting middle school, joined sports together to figure out what they liked. Rapunzel was good at cheerleading, being very petite and acrobatic, and Merida was better at the classic sports (soccer, hockey, baseball, football, etc.). They do figure skating together. When Merida had to fight to be on the guys’ team, or just. Create a girls’ sports team, Rapunzel was there to support her every step of the way.

- Astrid and Merida are on a team together. Astrid does either hockey or soccer (or maybe both Idk which seasons they are but it feels like they’d be in different ones) but eventually Merida talks her into joining every one that Merida is in too. They get each other SO much and eventually develop like a secret language. No one knows if that’s true for sure, but these two girls can communicate without moving their body or saying a single word and it’s so effortless and perfect a system that people thought they were dating for the longest time. When someone finally brought it up (it was Snotlout) the two laughed so hard and so long that he blushed, and they NEVER let him live it down. It was just so absurd to them....

- Astrid and Rapunzel actually happened pretty fast. Everyone thought Astrid would take charge, and normally she does. She’s confident and sure of herself and has fingers in SO many pies, and she doesn’t ever shrink from any competition. Everything seems very easy for her and she never falters off fumbles... that is until she tries to talk to Rapunzel. Because Astrid can affectionately bulky Hiccup and Merida already gets her so well that she doesn’t have to try to communicate with her. But Rapunzel is... her opposite in a lot of ways. She’s small and soft spoken and artistic. Her mind is creative and her hands are gentle and her eyes are huge and her smile is warm. Rapunzel is this golden stream in a fairytale and Astrid is.... probably a rock. Of some kind. Anyway, the point is Rapunzel approaches her with that pretty smile and those large eyes and very clearly asks her out and Astrid’s lucky that Merida’s there to say yes for her because her mouth forgets how to move

- Rapunzel cheers SO LOUD for Astrid every game, and they start to sit on the bench together if there’s any free time. During the half time show, Astrid cheers just as loud for Rapunzel and the phrase “THATS MY GIRLFRIEND” gets thrown around a. Lot. They get super competitive all the time and end up having so much fun. Rapunzel is a bit of a softie and let Astrid win a lot in the beginning until Astrid called her out and called her a loser (affectionate) and from then it was ON. No one thought anyone could beat Astrid at anything until Rapunzel came around.

- Hiccup tries to follow what’s happening in the games but he often gets really distracted and confused and ends up analyzing the plays and bombarding everyone with questions afterward. Astrid and Merida eventually directed him to Rapunzel, who actually listened to him and realized how genius his ideas and observations were. They started to talk with the coach about ways to make the team better, and Hiccup eventually starts to just. Help the coaches in general and no one even asks anymore.

- Hiccup has a cat named Toothless and he and Rapunzel are the BEST of friends. Astrid didn’t like him at first but softened upon seeing Rapunzel and Hiccup be so adorable with the little creature. Toothless HATED Merida for the longest time no matter what she tried and it made everyone laugh constantly. Eventually the little thing warmed up to her but for a while there Merida stayed by Astrid “where it’s safe” as she said.

- Rapunzel also has a pet chameleon and she DOTES on that thing. She knows everything about them and anytime anyone asks about Pascal she just wants and rants and rants about fun facts. It’s the only time Astrid will without complaint Listen to someone just talk facts and knowledge. Astrid usually finds it so boring but Rapunzel is so adorable when she goes off about this thing she’s so passionate about that Astrid doesn’t even mind.

- After watching Hiccup with Toothless for a while, Astrid gets her own cat named Stormfly and they are a DYNAMIC duo. Stormfly is almost as well trained as Toothless a lot sooner, and they just have this very clear understanding. Stormfly doesn’t hate Merida, so the red head prefers this cat, and Toothless often glares at her for hours for it. Rapunzel and Stormfly take to each other even faster than Rapunzel and Toothless did. Rapunzel smells like Astrid and Stormfly is HERE for it

- Rapunzel and Merida take riding lessons on the weekends. It was something they looked into when they were really young and when they finally convinced their parents to let them it was the single best thing to ever happen to either of them. Riding Maxmimus and Angus are the best parts of their week in most cases (unless something special happens) and the horses are considered as much their pets as the cats or chameleon. They end up buying them after they get out of college and securing a house for all four of them with a big enough back yard to keep the horses in. It’s a good time.

- Hiccup works as a mechanic, fixing mostly cars but also small stuff like bikes and the such in his free time. Toothless came to him missing a leg, so Hiccup comes up with a lot of really clever contraptions and systems to help Toothless move around the house without Hiccup’s help. He still prefers to be lifted into bed, but anywhere else is free game.

- Rapunzel gets a job at first at a diner, where she spends her highschool and college career working her butt off. It wasn’t the best experience but it achieved the goals Rapunzel needed to so she could go to college and become an art teacher instead. It wasn’t the best paying job, but it allowed her to show others why she valued painting so much, and left plenty time in the year to also go traveling if she wished. She’s very good at saving money so she makes it work.

- Astrid works a lot of fast food at first and even takes a stint at the diner with Rapunzel, but her short temper ends up getting her into a lot of situations where she hates her job and ends up leaving after six to eight months. Nowhere was very good for her until she finally got a job at a gym where she ended up learning a lot of really fun skills like self defense and axe throwing. She did it for so many years and got so good that she was hired on as the instructor, and she’s never been happier than in a position where if a man pushes the limits or a Karen tries her patience, all she has to do is sink an axe into a target and turn to them with a raised eyebrow and ask, “What was that again?” It works every time and unless someone has an actual problem they don’t bother her.

- Merida struggles with work. She gets every job under the sun, taking stints at the diner with Rapunzel and the mechanic’s shop with Hiccup and even eventually at the gym and fun enter with Astrid. She gets bored very easily and doesn’t keep a job more than like four or fives months at Max. Ever. She doesn’t think she’s good at anything and might have peaked in high school... until she discovers archery. In an attempt to help her out, Astrid pitches to the fun center to add archery as an activity, and Merida begins to come to it. Unfortunately they can’t really find a teacher who knows what they’re doing and Merida is the only one who shows up so for a while it’s threatening to shut down. But then Merida teaches herself via the internet and insane amounts of practice, and tries out for the job. They give her the position, but tell her that without customers it’s still going to go down.

- the four gather ALL of their friends and begin mass sharing any and all information they can get out there about the fun center and Merida’s growing skills and how helpful she’ll be as the teacher. They just spread the news and encourage people to at least try it out. Through sheer force of Will and hard work, they get enough people with interests peaked who end up coming. Merida’s classes are full of all kinds of people of all kinds of ages, and she loves it.

- none of them get paid a LOT, but Rapunzel and Hiccup are very good at saving money and slowly, Astrid learns as well and between the three of them they can get things figured out even if Merida doesn’t want to waste energy on budgeting and planning everything out and such. When the fun center is out for winter time, and school is out for Summer, they start taking temporary jobs that pay a lot more money. These jobs end up being labor intensive, but they always try and work together and combined, they can find the fun in even the most annoying jobs. Sometimes Hiccup will join them if he’s having a slow time at work, but he never lasts long and the girls tease him a lot about it.

- Yes the hall live together and yes they have “family nights” where they all go out and do something fun once every month, and they eat dinner and breakfast together as much as they can and they’re all very close and mean a lot to each other god I love them.

There are obviously a ton of other characters in this little world I’ve built so if you have any questions feel free to ask!

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: Alex meets Willie at a coffee shop and they’ve been talking for a few weeks but Alex is afraid to admit anything of liking Willie. But his friends push him to and he finds out that Willie likes him back and they go on a date.

I combined this with a prompt from this amazing list because I thought it was funny. I didn’t include the actual date because I know nothing about skating but if enough people want it then I’d be more than happy to do a part two of this!

I also added Julie, Carrie, and Alex being best friends because we deserve it.

Batman and the Barista

Aside from his co-workers, there was not one single thing about working at Eats ‘n’ Beats that made Alex Mercer’s job there bearable. If the coffee machine wasn’t straight-up not working, it was spurting scalding water at him; the customers were generally speaking entitled and rude; his boss was so laid-back and carefree that it was painful and no problems in the workplace ever got solved; and the hours were ridiculous – for example, some days Alex worked from four a.m. until nine a.m. Who in their right mind wants coffee at four o’clock in the morning?

The only other thing – or rather, the only other person – that might have stood any chance of making Alex’s job worthwhile also made it worse. They would have been perfect if only for the fact that they wouldn’t tell Alex their goddamn name.

He was a regular at Eats ‘n’ Beats and seemed to come into the shop at least once on every one of Alex’s shifts. He was, in Alex’s eyes, utterly perfect – beautiful tawny skin, long dark hair sometimes twined into a bun at the base of his neck, and the most adorable smile Alex could imagine. It was downright unfair how attractive he was, and how funny, kind, and smart he was too.

If only he would tell Alex who he was.

Every single time he came in the shop, the guy ordered the same drink (hot chocolate with cream, marshmallows, sprinkles, the works) and every time Alex would ask for his name. Every single time he had received a different answer.

The first few times he had hardly noticed. The second time the guy came in the coffee shop he had told Alex his name was Horatio – Alex could have sworn his name had been Patrick the week before, but it was possible that he was misremembering, so he hadn’t thought anything of it. But the next time the guy came in his name had been Edmund. After that it had been Marcus, then Jason, then Rudy, Stewart, Bob, Milo. The names had got increasingly weirder; just yesterday Alex had scrawled Megamind on the guy’s to-go cup. Before that it had been Sherlock.

As lovely as the guy was, Alex often found himself complaining to his friends about him and his lack of naming consistency, usually on his too-short breaks.

“He just seems like a really cool guy,” he was saying to his co-workers Carrie and Julie one day as they all sat around a small, cramped table in the staff room. “I’d really like to get to know him but he seems intent on me not knowing him at all!”

Alex could practically hear Carrie rolling her eyes. “We know you’d like to get to know him,” she muttered, “it’s all you ever talk about.”

“That’s not true,” Alex protested. “I talk about other things!”

“Like what?” Carrie asked, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

“Like the band,” Alex returned.

Julie shook her head. “Only if I bring it up first. And your contribution is usually something along the lines of ‘I wish coffee shop guy would come to one of our gigs, how cool would that be?’”

“That’s not– I– okay.” Alex sighed, then said under his breath, “Although it would be kinda cool if he did come to one of our shows.”

Carrie sighed dramatically. “You are so far gone it’s painful to listen to.”

“Just ask him out,” Julie said, smiling fondly. “I see the way he grins at you when he gives you a ridiculous fake name – his smile is so wide it practically falls off his face!”

“I don’t want to ask him out,” Alex lied. It wasn’t as if a lie like that could work on Julie and Carrie anyway; they both rolled their eyes and crossed their arms, eerily in sync with each other. “I don’t! I just want to get to know him.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Julie said.

“No. I wanted to get to know you guys without wanting to date you.”

“That’s because you’re gay,” Carrie said matter-of-factly, “and Julie and I are, correct me if I’m wrong, girls.”

“That’s fair,” Alex conceded. “But I don’t want to ask him out.”

Julie patted his hand. “Sure, Alex.”

A few minutes later, their break ended and the three friends made their way back out front to the shop. It was bustling and busy, and the co-worker Alex took over from on the register looked one customer away from breaking down into a mess of tears.

Alex, Julie, and Carrie (each manning their stations either on the cash register, at the coffee machine, or calling orders) started working, getting drinks and snacks for everyone. In the first five minutes, only one person yelled at Alex for accidentally spelling their name wrong on the cup, which passed as a good five minutes in his book.

Alex wouldn’t deny that he was watching the door, waiting for someone specific to come in. So maybe he was a little distracted, and maybe he did mess up a few orders or names, and maybe he could feel Julie and Carrie fondly glaring at him for being a little bit elsewhere, but it wasn’t really his fault. It was entirely Cute No-Name’s fault and if asked that was exactly who Alex would blame.

Eventually, with only ten minutes to go until closing time when the customers had dwindled down to just one or two every few minutes, the door swung open and the guy finally came in. There was something a little different today, and Alex’s throat went dry when he saw it – Cute No-Name had a skateboard tucked under his arm and removed his helmet as he entered the shop.

There was no queue at this hour, so he sauntered right up to Alex, a wide smile on his face.

“Hey, hotdog,” the guy said. It was a name he’d started using for Alex after seeing that one of the many things he had embroidered on his work apron was a hotdog (right between the rainbow flag and the drumsticks). Alex didn’t like the nickname, but No-Name couldn’t be stopped.

“Hey,” Alex replied, clearing his throat. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good,” No-Name replied. “You?”

“Yeah, yeah, great,” Alex said. He was aiming for a casual tone, but judging by Carrie and Julie’s poorly masked snickers he was not doing a very good job. “You want the usual?”

“Yeah, thanks, man,” the guy said. “To-go, please.”

Alex nodded, punching the price into the cash register and giving the guy his total. After he had been paid, Alex picked up a to-go cup and a permanent marker, turning to No-Name again. “So, what’s your name today?”

No-Name considered for a moment, then grinned. Maybe Julie was right, Alex thought – nobody could find this whole thing so funny that they’d smile that wide.

“I’m Batman,” the guy said. The worst part was that he did the voice too.

Alex groaned and shook his head, fighting a smile as he scrawled ‘Batman’ on the cup. “Of course you are. Carrie,” he called over his shoulder, holding the cup out. “This guy’s usual, please.”

Carrie didn’t take the cup. Instead, giggling along with Julie, she said, “Sorry, but who is ‘this guy’?”

“Carrie,” Alex said warningly.

“Who is he, Alex?” Julie asked, face bright with laughter.

“Not you too,” Alex said. Carrie, Julie, and No-Name were all properly laughing now. “I seriously can’t be the only one who doesn’t find this funny.”

“What’s his name, Alex?” Carrie asked between laughs.

Alex scowled at her. “Batman.”

Finally, Carrie took the cup and started making ‘Batman’s’ drink. Alex, shaking his head exasperatedly, turned back to face No-Name.

“Can I ask what your actual name is?” he said while Julie and Carrie were distracted by throwing marshmallows at each other, clearly not listening. “Genuinely. Because you always give a fake or different name and I… I mean, I just want to know who you really are.”

No-Name’s beam faded to a smaller, more delicate, warmer smile. “Sure, hotdog. It’s Willie.”

It was really that easy? All he’d had to do this whole time was ask?

“Really? No joking around this time?” The guy nodded. Alex thought for a moment and then said, “Willie what?”

Willie shrugged and leaned on the counter. He wasn’t that close, but Alex felt as if they were practically nose-to-nose. He wouldn’t have admitted how much that made his heart race.

“It depends,” Willie said. “What’s yours?”

Alex furrowed his brow, confused, but still said, “It’s Mercer.”

The mischievous grin was back. Willie straightened up and said, “Well, in that case, hopefully one day it’ll be Willie Mercer.”

Alex felt his jaw drop, heard Julie gasp, and heard Carrie not-so-quietly utter a swear.

Willie was the only one who seemed unaffected. He beamed over at Carrie, saying, “Is my drink nearly ready? I’ve got a skatepark to get to.”

With shaking hands, Carrie passed Willie his drink, and after they’d all said their goodbyes she slapped Alex’s arm. Repeatedly. Hard.

“He likes you,” she hissed. She almost sounded angry, but Alex knew that she was simply passionate about something potentially going right in his love life for once. “He totally likes you!”

“You think so?” Alex asked sceptically. “Because he could have just been joking–”

Julie scoffed. “That guy’s idea of a joke is giving a fake name at a coffee shop, not the implication of marriage.”

Alex couldn’t help it. He let himself smile and felt himself blush.

“So,” Julie continued, “will you ask him out now?”

Alex looked at the floor, still smiling sheepishly. “I’ll think about it,” he mumbled through his smile.

In the end, it didn’t really take much thinking about. Willie came in again the next day, even though it was one of Alex’s four-til-nine shifts. At six a.m. on the dot, Willie pushed the door open, the only customer in the shop.

“Hey, hotdog,” he greeted as usual, coming over and leaning against the counter.

“Hey, Willie,” Alex returned, smiling. He couldn’t believe he had a real name to use for this guy now; it made his heart beat in a way that was far too over the top for the situation. Without asking what Willie wanted or for a name to put on his cup, he set about making the drink. “You went skating yesterday, right? How was it?”

Willie grinned, fiddling with a ribbon on a charity collection tub. “It was fun. I mastered a trick I’ve been trying to learn for months. Have you ever skated?”

“Yep,” Alex said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Loads of times.”

Willie laughed. Alex adored the sound, and the way Willie’s eyes crinkled with his smile as he giggled. He felt his heart beat even faster. “So that’s a no. Maybe I could teach you sometime.”

“I’m not sure you really want to do that,” Alex said, handing over the drink, the name ‘Willie’ written on the side of the cup. “I don’t think I’m exactly badass skater material.”

“Still,” Willie said with a shrug. “It’d be fun. And we could make it a date. If you want.”

Yet again, Alex felt his jaw drop. “Wait, really? You want to… okay. You want to go on a date with me?”

Willie said nothing, just smiled brightly.

“I… I mean, yeah,” Alex continued, feeling very flustered, overwhelmed by the butterflies in his stomach. They were happy butterflies though – unnaturally happy. “Yeah, I also want to go on a date. With you. Thank you. People probably don’t say ‘thank you’ when they’re asked on a date, do they? That was probably weird, I’m sorry–”

Willie laughed and Alex stopped talking. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole world stopped, if the Earth ceased its spinning every time Willie made that sound.

“It’s a date,” Willie said, grinning. “Are you free today?”

Alex choked to find his voice and said, “Yeah, I finish at nine.”

“Cool, bro, I’ll be here to pick you up then. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” he returned. Once again, he wasn’t quite sure he hit his target of ‘coolly disinterested’ and instead landed at ‘so disinterested that it was obvious that he was interested’. “I’ll see you then.”

“Catch you later, hotdog,” Willie said, saluting as he left the coffee shop, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Alex couldn’t help but do an excited little jump and something that might have passed for a happy dance, but there was nobody there to see him so it didn’t matter. He couldn’t wait to tell Julie and Carrie about this.

[gamergirl929]

She Was A Skater Girl (Tobin Heath x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Heyy, just loved it your new imagine with tobin and i know your requests are closed, so maybe when you have time, could you write one with tobin and skater!reader?

The breeze was relatively nice considering it was so humid out, but you didn’t care, all that mattered was that your skateboard was beneath your feet.  

Portland streets were busy at this time, a number of people on their morning commutes, everyone rushing to get to work.  

All that rushing, luckily for you, hadn’t been a big deal for you, but sadly, it was ABOUT to be.

“HEY!” Someone shouts, your eyes widening when someone lays on their horn. 

You attempt to screech to a halt, but you quickly realize you can’t do so fast enough.

You instead fling yourself backwards off your board and land back first on the road with a violent thud, watching as the woman's car flies towards the intersection.

You watch sadly as your board rolls in front of the fast-moving car, being crushed by its tires as it flies by, the woman not even stopping to check on the person she'd just nearly ran over.  

You wince in pain, resting your head on the road beneath you.  

“Are you okay!?” A woman asks, dropping down on the ground beside you and you groan.  

“No...” You grimace as you sit up, yelling down the road where the woman had driven off.  

“YOU BITCH! THAT WAS MY ONLY BOARD!” You scream at the car as you rub the back of your head, your head that’s covered in a hot sticky fluid you realize is your own blood.  

You hadn’t even remembered hitting your head. 

“Ow. Shit.” You grimace, your eyes fluttering closed.  

“Keep your eyes open, an ambulance is on the way.”  

The woman’s soft voice makes your eyes flutter open, your brows furrowing as you look a the woman hovering above you, your eyes widening.  

“Holy shit, you’re Tobin Heath.”  

You, again, sit up, your vision dotted with black spots as your head starts to spin. 

“Here, lie back.” Tobin says again, this time your head meeting something soft instead of the hard concrete.  

You turn to her with a smile.  

“You’re really pretty.” You murmur, groaning at the pain in your head, missing the noticeable blush on Tobin’s cheeks.  

“Wait!” You yell, trying to sit up again. 

“Where’s my board?” You whine, your vision blurring as someone comes into view, carrying the two pieces of your board. 

“That was my only board.” You whine louder.  

“I think you need to worry more about your head right now.” Tobin guides you back down, the woman grimacing when she sees blood coming out of your ear.  

“Just, don’t move okay?” She places a hand on your chest and you hum.  

“I’ve had that board forever.” You pout, Tobin shaking her head.  

“A board can be replaced.”  

You shake your head.  

“Not that one, it was the only board I had when I started making vids.” You sigh, glancing at the woman. 

“You know some things can’t be replaced.”  

The sound of sirens makes your head ache and you grimace.  

“Why are they so loud?” You mumble and Tobin winces.  

“You took a pretty hard hit.”  

Tobin frowns when you start to mumble, words slurring into an incoherent mumble.

“Get my board, yeah?” You slur the forward nodding as EMTs rush your way, surrounding you.  

Tobin is able to get the two halves of your board before she’s back at your side, frowning as EMTs get you onto a backboard, incoherent mumbles leaving your open mouth.  

Though what Tobin CAN make out is her name, before you fall silent, losing consciousness.  

                                                          ***

The first thing you feel when you regain consciousness is pain, a throbbing pain in your head that makes you grimace, the insistent beeping of a machine nearby making you growl.  

“Damn.” You murmur as you shift, your back aching from the impact of slamming to the concrete.  

“Hey.” You hear a familiar voice, your brows furrowing as your eyes crack open.  

“Have you seen my board?” You ask, Tobin snorting as she nods to the corner of the room where your broken board is resting.  

“Did they find the driver?” You yawn, Tobin shaking her head as she moves to sit in the chair beside your bed.  

“No, but they’re looking.” She frowns and you growl.  

“She owes me some compensation for my board.”  

Tobin snorts.  

“You remember she almost killed you, right?” She asks and you shrug.  

“Yeah, maybe.”  

Tobin shakes her head, eyes widening when she hears a familiar voice.  

“Holy shit, you didn’t tell me the skateboarder was fucking Y/N Y/L/N.” The blonde squeals and you wince, your head throbbing.  

“THE Emily Sonnett knowns ME? Fucking sick.” You grin.  

“Wait... You know her?” Tobin points at you and smirk.  

“WELL YEAH. Emily snorts. “This is Y/N Y/L/N one of the best influencers on Insta.” Emily claps her hands giddily, frowning when she sees your board in the corner, completely snapped in half.  

“Aww, no...” She frowns, walking towards it, taking the two halves in her hands.  

“You’re an influencer?” Tobin asks, brown orbs wide and you nod.  

“So that’s what you meant by videos earlier.”  

You nod.  

“Tobin? Are you in here?”  

Your eyes widen when Christen Press rounds the corner, the forward’s green orbs widening when she sees you.  

“Y/N Y/L/N is the skater from this morning!?” She stares at you in awe and you snicker.  

“Seriously? You know me too?” You ask, the forward nodding in excitement.  

“Chrissyyyyyyy!” Emily whines holding the two halves of your board up with a pout.  

“Oh no...” She frowns, turning back towards you. “Sorry about your board, are you okay?”  

You shrug.  

“It’s okay, could be worse I guess... And I have no idea, no one’s told me.”  

Just as the words leave your mouth, a woman in a white lab coat walks in, smiling softly.  

“Good afternoon Ms. Y/L/N, how are you feeling?” She asks as she checks the machines next to your bed and you grimace.  

“Not great doc, not great.”  

“I imagine so, you’ve got a skull fracture.” Your eyes widen, as do Tobin, Emily and Christen’s.  

“Does that mean I can’t skate?” You ask, Tobin turning to you with wide eyes.  

“No, you can’t.” She growls and you huff.  

“Why not?”  

You stiffen.  

“Wait, where’s my phone?” You ask, glancing around the room, frowning when you see it too by your board, shattered.  

“How will my followers know what happened?” You pout and Emily hums, looking at her own phone.  

“Apparently they already do.”  

Emily passes you her phone, your eyes narrowing as you read the screen.  

Influencer Y/N Y/L/N involved in an accident in Portland, Oregon

You scroll further down the page.  

Y/N, Instagram Influencer injured in a near hit and run collision in Portland, Oregon

You shake your head.  

“Well now I have to let my followers know I’m okay.” You shake your head. “Leaving them on a cliffhanger like this is some damn ABC TV show.”  

Tobin shakes her head, passing you her phone.  

“Here.”

You put your palms together, ducking down as you bow to her.  

“My hero.”  

Needless to say, the second you’re logged into Insta you go to post, taking a picture of yourself, noticeable scuff marks on your face.

You type a quick caption, your tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth as you focus on posting, missing the small smile that stretches across Tobin’s face. 

“I’m sure you guys have seen the news about the accident, I’m okay, but they still haven’t caught the driver.”

You frown, glancing at your broken board.  

“Doc says I have a skull fracture and my back is pretty messed up... Unfortunately, she ran over my board, so I won’t be skating for a while, mostly because of the skull fracture, but whatever, I’ll keep you guys updated.”  

You glance around the room, smiling when you see Christen, Emily and Tobin sitting around, Emily still pouting over your broken board.  

“I’d like to thank, Tobin Heath, yes, USWNT forward Tobin Heath, for helping me after the accident as well as Christen Press and Emily Sonnett for coming in for a visit, mostly for Tobin, but still, FUCKIN’ SICKKKKKK.”  

You make the post and make your way to Twitter to make a similar post, quickly realizing you’re trending on Twitter.

“I’ve only ever trended twice on Twitter, once for skating in a mall down the escalator and running from security, and now.” You sigh.  

“Awesome.”  

You pass Tobin her phone back, smiling softly as the woman grins.  

“I really have to thank you for being there for me this morning. If it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve chased after her.” You snort, Tobin throwing her head back with a laugh.  

“I don’t doubt that.”  

You smile your eyes searching Tobin’s face.  

“Still, I really appreciate it.”

Emily and Christen share a glance, the two smiling as you and Tobin simply stare at one another with lightly flushed cheeks.  

You lean back, rubbing the back of your head, groaning loudly.  

“You okay?” Christen asks and you whine.  

“My boarddddddddd...” You pout, Tobin shaking her head.  

Emily takes your board and brings it to the bed, handing you the two pieces.  

“Maybe, ummmm, tape?” She suggests, shrugging and you shake your head.  

“I don’t think it’ll work this time.”  You frown as you examine the splintered wood. “Well, it didn’t work LAST time to be honest, I ended up breaking my leg.”  

“You have a lot of accidents, don’t you?” Tobin teases and you roll your eyes.  

“Accidents are a huge part of skating.” You smirk.

“But when you finally hit the move it’s so fucking sick.” You nod with a grin, remembering how you’d landed the trick after your leg had healed, on a solid, break free board.  

“Wait, you didn’t trend when you skated off that condo’s roof?” Emily asks and you shake your head, the woman scoffing.  

“That’s dumb, and it wasn’t even your house!”  

Tobin watches you and Emily talk intently about your past tricks and run ins with the law, the woman smiling when you let out a belly shaking laugh, that laugh making you wince, your back and head throbbing.  

The more you talk, the more Tobin notes that your eyelids start to flutter as you visibly fight off sleep.  

Tobin shakes her head.  

“You should rest.” She whispers and you grunt.  

“I don’t want to...” You pout, earning an eye roll from the forward.  

“Well you need to.” She says, eyes narrowed and your eyes widen.  

“She’s right.” Christen says as she moves to her feet.  

You huff, sending Tobin a mock glare.  

“Fine. Fine.”  

Tobin is about to turn away when you catch her wrist, the woman turning to look at you thoughtfully.  

“I-I want to thank you, I really appreciate you helping me today, and uhhhh, coming here with me.” You shrug bashfully, cheeks dusted pink.  

“It meant a lot to me.”  

Tobin smiles, covering your hand with her own.  

“It was the right thing to do.” She says, her own cheeks flushing. “And I was worried.”  

Your tired eyes widen, your cheeks flushing darker at the thought of the woman worrying about you.  

Christen's green orbs dart between the two of you before she clears her throat, pulling the two of you out of your trance.  

“Uhhh....” Tobin starts, the woman clearing her own throat. “I’ll call to check on you later, okay?” She says and you nod, letting out a yawn.  

“S-Sounds good.” You say as you tiredly wave at Emily and Christen.  

“It was great meeting you all, still can’t believe I met you guys.” You yawn.  

Moments after the words leave your mouth you doze off, Emily, Christen and Tobin watching you with small smiles, Tobin’s cheeks still flushed.  

The forward turns around, eyes widening when she sees the looks on Emily and Christen’s faces.  

“What?” She gripes, glancing over her shoulder at you once more before she moves out of the room, her two teammates on her heels.  

“Why are your cheeks red Toby?” Emily teases, and Tobin growls.  

“They aren’t.” She dismisses her and Christen snorts.  

“Yes, they are.”

Tobin growls louder, practically sprinting away from the two of them, Christen and Emily giggling.  

“How much do you want to bet she’ll come back to visit her?” Emily smirks and Christen nods.  

“Oh, she will.”  

                                                          ***

Much as the two had anticipated, Tobin had come back to the hospital, though this time, she had a gift, something she knew you would love.  

Christen had agreed as well, of course, teasing Tobin about heading back to the hospital to see you.  

Tobin had of course brushed her off, but in all honesty, Tobin had felt something when she met you, that twisting in her gut, her heart lightening in her chest.  

She wanted to know more about you, and she’d been lying if she hadn’t spent most the night learning about you, as well as watching your videos and looking at all your posts.  

In fact, she’d lost sleep because of it.

That didn’t matter to her though, what mattered was learning more about you, and what she learned was that you were a shy, yet charismatic and bold person. 

A woman who’d taken up skating at a young age and had even caught the eye of famous skaters like Tony Hawk, among others.  

You were kind hearted, someone that anyone who looked at your images and videos with kids could see, as well as anyone who’d read or watched any of your interviews. 

You were humble about your fame, and the way you talked told Tobin you didn’t really care for the fame, you just wanted to do what you loved, and that was skate.  

The closer she gets to your hospital room, the more her nerves rile up, the woman nervous about seeing you again.  

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice the way your eyes shined when you talked about skating, the way your smile brightened when talking about it and the way you’d ramble shyly during interviews.  

Tobin comes to a stop in front of your hospital room,  the woman curtly nodding to herself, gathering her courage before she knocks on the door.  

Tobin frowns when she gets no response, the woman peeking through the gap in the door to see you’re fast asleep, mouth hanging open as you snore softly.  

She pushes into the room quietly, tip toeing to the bed, the woman grinning when you grumble in your sleep.  

“Maybe I should come back later...” She mumbles to herself, ready to turn around and leave, that is, until your eyes flutter open tiredly.  

“Toby?” You rasp, voice rough from sleep, as you stretch, not even realizing that you’d called Tobin, Toby.  

“Hey.” She moves towards the bed with a smile, smiling at the bleary look on your face.  

“Am I dreaming?” You ask, yawning.  

Tobin snorts.  

“No, you’re not.”  

You grin.  

“SO, that means you came back to see me?” You give her a charming smile and she rolls her eyes, sitting in the chair beside your bed.  

“I guess I did.” She grins and you smirk.

“Couldn’t get enough of me?” You ask cockily and she hums.  

“Oh I’m getting there.” She teases and you grin, brows furrowing when you see the box resting in Tobin’s lap.

“What you got there?” You ask curiously, the forward grinning.

“It’s for you.”

You blink rapidly, brows furrowing.

“Wait, for me?” You say, the woman nodding.  

You shake your head.  

“You didn’t have to buy me anything...” Your bottom lip trembles as Tobin slowly opens the box, your eyes wide when you see its contents.  

“I didn’t. I made it.”  

Your eyes go glassy, mouth agape as you stare at the board Tobin holds up, the skate board covered in a mosh of colors, the bottom colored in exactly the same way.  

“Wait... This is...” You brush your thumbs along the smooth board.  

“This is A Popsicle Skateboard...” You whisper, turning to her with a trembling bottom lip.  

Tobin smiles, reaching for and placing a hand on the board beside your own.  

“Actually, it’s not just a Popsicle Board...” She grins. “It’s the original.”  

Your eyes widen, a lump forming in your throat as you scan the board again, though, this time your hand slides down the board, your fingertips brushing Tobin’s.  

“A-Are you sure?” You whisper, the forward smiling softly, surprising you and herself when she pushes your fingers apart, her fingers intertwining with yours.  

Your cheeks flush, your eyes darting from your tangled finger to Tobin’s face, back and forth until your eyes again lock with Tobin’s brown orbs, her cheeks dusted pink.  

Her lips split into a grin.  

“I’m sure.”  

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part I: A Matter Of Convenience

Description: An extraordinary man arrives to shake up your ordinary life Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: robberies and mentions of firearms, physical violence, mild depictions of bodily injury, blood and masturbation, profanity Word Count: 1650 words (~8 mins of action, drama and the start of a slow burn 🔥)  Author’s Notes: This multi-chapter fic is dedicated to the lovely @op-peccatori​​​, one of the winners of my Follower Milestone Celebration!  Thank you so much, Nana, for requesting a mafia AU story starring everyone’s favourite lavender-haired man 😆 This is actually my first time writing an AU fic, and the experience thus far has been incredibly eye-opening and lots of fun!

For this piece, I wanted to localize the AU to better fit the world of MLQC, so instead of using a traditional mafia setting, the events take place in the milieu of the triads and “black societies” that are more likely to be found in corresponding parts of the world.  For those who are interested, Wikipedia has an incredibly comprehensive article on triads and organized crime.

This piece turned out to be much longer than I anticipated and is still ongoing as of the time of this post!  That being said, I hope you’ll join me on this wild ride 😂 As always, wishing you all a very happy read 😊

Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

“Put the money in the bag and no one gets hurt.”

A black duffel bag is thrust onto the counter before you, panels wide open like a gaping maw.  You look up at the man in the bomber jacket and the only things you can process are:

One: his nostrils are flaring.

Two: why bother trying to be nondescript by dressing in all black if you’re going to leave your face uncovered during a robbery?

“I ain’t playin’ around, little girl.  Put the goddamn money in the bag right now or else I’ll shoot—”

WHACK!

The man’s eyes widen in the split second before his face crumples, teeth yellowed and uneven protruding in an ugly grimace.  His hand flies to his head, trying to stem the blood already streaking down his face when he collapses onto the counter, taking out a display of collectible miniature keychains next to the register as he does.  They scatter, some rolling across the floor before being stopped by a pair of purple Chuck Taylors tapping out an impatient rhythm on the linoleum.

You look up from those sneakers in a daze, eyes following the silhouette of a pair of jeans so worn in places you doubted the rips and tears were purely for aesthetic purposes.  And if you’d had to guess, you’d say that purple was your saviour’s favourite colour, given the lavender hair that fell over his eyes the moment he pulled back the hood of his sweatshirt, also in a shade of violet.  His other hand — clad in a fingerless leather glove — gripped the skateboard that had just connected with the head of the would-be robber, still groaning before you.

Pop!

You startle at the sound, heart slowing only when you see the pink bubble deflating between the young man’s lips before the gum is pulled back by the tip of his tongue.  And from where you stood — glued to the spot behind the counter — you swear you can detect the hint of cinnamon.  

He crouches, picking up the gun that had slid out of the thief’s hand when he was unceremoniously hit from behind, and when he chuckles — the sound dangerous and cocksure — it ignites something deep within you.

“Tsk, tsk.  Can’t very well go around robbing people with toys guns, now can you?  Especially not on my turf.  Piece of advice: don’t mess with Boss Li’s territory or else I’ll be doing more than just breaking your head the next time around.  Don’t let me catch you here again.”  

Letting out a pathetic whimper, the robber snatches the empty bag from the counter, running for the doors in such haste he almost trips over his own feet.  The electronic refrains of the door chime still ring in your ears when you realize the man has already made his way to the beverage dispenser, one long finger pressing the Pepsi button before switching to Coke, both drinks mixing in the same paper cup.

Smoothly stepping over the mess on the floor, he places the drink on the counter right next to a smear of blood.  Mind still reeling, your customer service instincts take over.

“H-hello.  Just this?”  

He nods, popping a purple straw through the plastic lid before fixing you with his amber eyes as he pays, a hint of a smirk on his face.  And that is when it hits you that he is actually…actually…

…incredibly gorgeous.

An intense wave of heat washes over your face and you can’t help but look down.  By the time you’ve worked up the courage to lift your head again, he is already at the door, merging with the dark night beyond.  He throws up one hand in goodbye, not even bothering to look back when he says, “Relax.  That guy won’t be bothering you again.”

You hear his skateboard hit the pavement, listen to it rolling away.  Only when the sound completely fades do you remember to breathe.

There was a certain tranquility in working late-night shifts at the 24-hour convenience store — aisles empty save for the occasional customer breaking the monotony: high-strung lovers grabbing last-minute condoms and overworked salarymen buying the beer and discounted meals they subsisted on.

And though your coworkers complained bitterly about the graveyard shift, they were more than happy to pass them on to you, making up every excuse as to why they were unable to show up during those times.  It was unnecessary, really.  You didn’t mind it, even preferred the solitary calm it afforded.

Until now.

Your peace has been shattered, replaced by something that made your hands ball into nervous fists — fingers gripping at the hem of your polyester uniform and wondering for the first time ever whether blue stripes made you look ridiculous.

Because for the first time in a very long while, there was something, someone, to look forward to.

Night after night, it’s the same.  Repeated glances at the clock above the magazine rack, your breath growing shallow to see it approach 1:30.  Heart leaping into your throat to hear the automatic doors slide open followed by the scuff of purple sneakers, tracing a path through the store.

Since the night of that foiled robbery attempt a month ago, he has visited like clockwork and you still haven’t figured out how to remain calm.  So you find contentment from behind the safety of the counter, watching the man with lavender hair — soft, even when lit beneath a harsh fluorescent glare as he stands at the drink dispenser, always filling a cup with Pepsi first, then Coke.

Only ever buying the same thing every time.

This strange ritual lasts all of ten minutes, fifteen at most.  And it takes just as long after he leaves for the hairs of your body to cease standing on end, as if electrified by the intensity of his eyes on yours.  

That gaze of molten gold stays with you even when you return home in the early morning hours, pulling blackout curtains across your window before falling into bed to pretend your hands were his: tracing the outline of your lips, caressing the swell of your breasts, dipping between your legs.

And when your breath falters in a quick succession of shudders, you wonder at your own sanity.  Because in spite of your suspicions about the guy with the purple hair, the warning signs that pointed to his obvious involvement with the triads that extorted money from local businesses as ‘protection fees,’ you still couldn’t help but think about the man who visited you every night without fail.

“You’re hurt—”

“I-I’m fine.  Just…just ring this up, will ya?  I’m…in a rush…”

One arm crossed over his abdomen, he places the cup onto the counter as if it took all the concentration in the world — his efforts squandered anyways when his hand spasms at the last minute to send dark liquid sloshing over the lip.  He hadn’t even bothered to put a lid on.

“…Emergency responders have just arrived on scene and are dealing with scores of injuries.  Eyewitnesses describe what appears to have been a violent clash between rival gangs in a longstanding feud over contested territory.  The police are seeking help from the public in locating several key suspects believed to have fled the scene.  Please do not approach them under any circumstances as they are considered armed and dangerous…”

The news anchor’s face on the wall-mounted television is replaced by another: that of a youthful man with lavender hair and multiple piercings on his ears — challenge exuding from amber eyes.  You scramble for the remote on the shelf behind you, mashing the power button until the screen goes black.  And in the eerie silence that descends upon the store, all you can focus on is the laboured breathing of the man slouched before you.

Skin pale, beads of sweat dot a face drained of colour save for the crimson protrusion above his left eye — soon set to transform, ironically, into his favourite shade of purple.  He tries to suppress a cough but it is too late: you’ve already caught sight of the blood spreading out from beneath the palm pressed to his stomach.

“It’s on me tonight.”

The words leave your lips without second thought as you make for the storefront, flipping the light switch even as you reach to turn the lock on the automatic doors.

“No, don’t…don’t get yourself involved…”

Ignoring his protests, you gingerly place his arm over your shoulder, doing your best to support his weight as you make an awkward attempt to hobble together towards the back of the store.

Suddenly, the darkened interior is lit by flashes of red and blue and you are pulled in the direction of the nearest pillar, a strong arm flexed as it tenses around your waist, holding you to him in an intimate embrace.

He is close…so close that your senses are flooded with him: the heartbeat thunderous in your ear, leather and sweat tickling your nostrils; the scent of blood thick enough you can almost taste it on your tongue.  The hand on your hip — grip firm in a way it almost seemed possessive, and you are ashamed to find that you can become aroused even in a situation like this.

When you finally gather the courage to look up at his face — seeking a sign in the tension dissolving from the firm set of his jaw that the police cruiser had passed — you are shocked to see his pale lips stretched into a smirk instead.

“You know...I’ve been coming here every day…for weeks now…and this is the most you’ve ever said to me.”

He is still smiling when he passes out.

Thanks so much for reading!  Hope you all enjoyed it and please stay tuned for part 2!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

(Updated): Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

[danzinora-switch]

Typing the Turtles (ROTTMNT) Part 3 - Leonardo

This started out as an investigation into the turtles’ insecurities, because one thing the show does so well is demonstrate that they are still teenagers. And being a teenager is a confusing experience - there’s angst, drama, exploring one’s identity, a lot of growth, and overall figuring out who you are. That’s a messy process, too! And we see this mess in our turtles: they mess up, they’re learning, they self-doubt, they have fears and insecurities, but they’re also discovering their strengths and how to overcome their inner obstacles.

So after thinking about all this way too long, here’s my psychological breakdown of each turtle (I’ll be referencing MBTI and the Enneagram a ton, but will include links for more general information on those if you don’t know what I’m talking about). 

Parts One and Two found on the links for Raph and Don.

Leo: ESTP, 3w2

The Achiever, the Entrepreneur, the Charmer, the Explorer

I’ve wanted to say this for a long time: Leo is such a 3, he is such a 3 it hurts, oh my goodness. Read this: https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-3 and tell me that isn’t Leo to a T.

It took me a little longer to figure out the MBTI for him, but he has a lot of similarities with the ESTP. This does mean we need to step away from the ‘frat bro’ stereotype of ESTPs, though. They are a lot more keen than convention would suggest.

Really, a big thing with Leo is his need to be The Best. What that means, to him, is normally something physically-related. He needs to be the best at sports or performing certain moves, which we see in episodes like The Longest Fight where he bets he can pull off the impossible skateboard move, or Shell in a Cell where he asserts he can out-perform Ghostbear. Additionally, episodes like Air Turtle really showcase the ugly side of his competitiveness. But he also desires physical perfection. He is rather image-conscious, fretting about his body in Stuck on You, and routinely referring to himself as the team’s Faceman. The biggest example of this was his idea for a disguise in Hidden City Job: the Turtle Adonis. An adonis is considered the peak physical ideal, handsome and attractive to boot. If this drive doesn’t scream Enneagram Three I don’t know what does.

Leo at his worst: Leo’s competitive side can certainly get the best of him. We see this in episodes like Air Turtle, where his ‘win at all costs’ attitude starts to alienate him from the group. Raph has also described him as a ‘poor winner’ which refers to his tendency to gloat when he does beat out the competition, or was proven right (Bug Busters, The Gumbus, You Got Served, LAIR GAMES). He’s smug, gloating, and when he does lose tries to wiggle out of it through technicalities. The one time he says something isn’t a competition is after Mikey beats him at Skateball (You Got Served). And when he ‘loses’ the Lair Games, Donnie’s win comes with a catch that Leo built in.

Threes do this for approval and validation, though, and we see that underlying his need to be the team’s Champion in Minotaur Maze and Portal Jacked! “I’m nothing without them!” he cries to Hueso. “What good is a team with just a Faceman?” Threes have a need to distinguish themselves from others, to be admired, to have attention, so that they then feel valuable and worthwhile. Other people, then, are necessary. When Leo wants to get on the Wall of Champions in Minotaur Maze, his brothers factor in to his unmet needs. “...because what good is being a Champion if you can’t rub it in your brothers’ faces?” Leo doesn’t just need to be The Best… he needs others to acknowledge it, as well.

Average Leo: He’s got a practical eye for situations and the quickness to adapt and act as needed. The ESTP is known for being bold as well as perceptive. We see this in fight scenes such as Battle Nexus: New York when he is quick to determine that physical comedy is the key to making the sprite laugh and immediately changing his approach.

He also displays a remarkable amount of common sense when making decisions. In Origami Tsunami, as the guys discuss becoming heroes, he’s the one who shoots down ideas until they reach a more achievable goal: taking on paper thieves. And he’s got a point, can you imagine the turtles taking on a spine-breaker or mangler at that point in time? When everyone else is blinded by ideals concerning fixing the Mutant Menace, he’s the only one who asks “anybody down for staying home during the anti-mutant panic?” Of course, he still goes along with their adventure, because ESTP’s live in The Moment, so why not?

Something else that I want to mention is Leo’s appreciation for the Machiavellian. He has an incredibly intuitive grasp on it, and actively appreciates twists, turns, betrayals and deceptions. His love for magic probably stems from this (The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle) and he is the only one enjoying the series of betrayals in Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Hidden City Job also expands on the fact that Leo doesn’t have a problem with betrayal, as he revels about brotherly betrayal happening all the time. He’s cool with being betrayed… just know that he can betray you back. It’s all fair game.

This can have upsides and downsides. On the upside, his understanding of trickery can lead to brilliant plans and solutions such as what we saw in Many Unhappy Returns, where he was able to outsmart Big Mama herself. On the downside, this kind of behavior is not always the best move - his family does not appreciate being left out of the loop of his schemes, or actively being manipulated as part of them (Leo’s plan in Many Unhappy Returns worked, but he still left his brothers alone and exhausted, and did not consider the emotional effect it would have on Splinter being sent back into the arena). At that point it’s no wonder he asks “why does no one trust me?” Because you tend to have an angle, ‘Nardo. Be careful how you use that.

He is also incredibly persuasive. This is partly why I feel he is a 3 wing 2, ‘The Charmer’ because he knows how to communicate to get what he wants. When used for the right reasons, we see him settle discord such as cooling the mobs in You Got Served or apologize when he knows an apology is needed (Todd Scouts, Air Turtle, Hidden City Job). We see it used neutrally (and a bit skeptically) in Many Unhappy Returns when he declares he’ll just go to see Big Mama and “turn up the Leo”. It can also be used deceptively, however. Todd Scouts shows this when Leo is the one who convinces Todd that they’re ready to kick things up a notch by going out alone… when really they just want to get away from him. He’ll also use words to get under people’s skins: dismissing Warren Stone in Stuck on You, but also pointing out Donnie’s beach ball fear in Mind Meld. He knows which words will get the responses he wants, for better or for worse.

Leo at his Best: Leo is the team’s motivator. He’s the one giving the others the pep-talks and encouragement they need to continue (Origami Tsunami, Finale: Rise). Donnie said it best after Leo’s redemption in Air Turtle: “your confidence is giving me confidence!”

Because that’s the healthy thing about Threes: they strive to reach their own full potential, which also inspires others to reach theirs. Leo doesn’t like to fail/lose, but he won’t let anyone else succumb, either. He has the most confidence in each Mad Dog’s ability. “I knew you guys could handle it!” he says in Many Unhappy Returns, and points out with amazing accuracy just what his brothers are capable of. He not only believes in himself, he believes in those around him. And he’s able to inspire them when they’re feeling down about their own abilities or not enthused about the task (see his speech about standing up for the paper men in Origami Tsunami).

This also includes encouragement and compliments in other areas. Regarding the Shell Hogs: “Donnie, these are amazing! And I know everything I say sounds sarcastic, but I’m being completely genuine this time” (Stuck on You). When Mikey isn’t sure Hypno will like him: “What? Of course he will, you’re adorable!” (Newsworthy). To Raph, “Does this place have smoke detectors? Because you’re on fire, Big Daddy!” (The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle).

He’s also able to step in and take charge when Raph falls because he can see what action needs to be taken (that practical and observant, yet bold ESTP side coming in). When Raph gets separated in the sewers, Leo’s the one who doesn’t treat it casually and gets the others moving to find him (Man vs Sewer). When his older brother is hypnotized by Hypno in Stuck on You, he quickly reacts and tells Mikey and Donnie what the plan is and enacts it. We see this leader potential grow bit by bit, and his awareness of each individual’s role on the team allows him to step back from areas that he knows aren’t his forte: Raph can handle the ‘teamwork’ stuff, Donnie has got the technical know-how, and Mikey takes care of positive outlook for any situation. Leo can keep things fun and inspire confidence. His puns help lighten the mood, his jokes break the ice of tense situations, and he never stops believing in their own abilities, which keeps them all going (Donnie’s Gifts, Many Unhappy Returns).

Leo Relationships:

(While Leo has a competitive episode with each of his brothers: Shell in a Cell, Lair Games, and You Got Served, there is more going on than just that).

Raph: Both Leo and Raph have strong gut feelings that can be blindsided. Leo picks up immediately that Big Mama is not trustworthy while Raph is more than happy to believe her, but Leo is blinded by his fan-love for Jupiter Jim to realize that Marcus Montcrief is a crazy and suspicious adult, which Raph becomes aware of early on (Bug Busters, Jupiter Jim Ahoy!). They both can be a little too head-first when diving into plans, such as checking out the creepy bus in One Man’s Junk or doing their best to help April in Hypno: Part Deux. But they do trust each other to have each other’s backs, and there’s (thankfully!) no Leo vs Angst in this version of their characters. It really allows them to be comfortable with each other (and egg each other on with more than just missions: see the pizza pigeon in Mind Meld).

Donnie: In some ways Leo acts like a foil for Donnie. His own natural confidence counterbalances a lot of his twin’s insecurities. They butt heads over it, sure, with Donnie perhaps taking things too seriously and Leo seemingly not taking them seriously enough, but I like I said in Donnie’s typing: one’s chill and one’s uptight. There’s a ton of back and forth between them: they are the epitome of siblings fighting one minute and getting up to no good together the next (Example from The Mystic Library: Leo grooves out with Donnie’s rap one moment and tries to get him kicked off the team in the next scene). They may antagonize each other in Lair Games, Smart Lair, the beginning of Snow Day and Hidden City Job, and so much more, but also demonstrate brotherly love (and antics) in Operation: Normal, the end of Hidden City Job and Smart Lair, and, of course, Battle Nexus: New York. “For Donnie’s honor!”

Mikey: Leo sticks up for Mikey a fair amount, especially to Raph. He supports Mikey trying to open the portal in Mystic Mayhem, and going out on his first solo mission in Hot Soup: The Game. We actually need more Leo and Mikey episodes; of the two we have one is a competition episode (You Got Served), and The Gumbus has Leo tag along intent on proving Mikey wrong. It seems they like to hang out during the down time a lot, as they play in the arcade and skateboard off-screen in episodes such as Mrs. Cuddles, You Got Served, Mind Games, and Sparring Partner. And of course, we have the gripping image of Leo protecting Mikey’s shell with his own in Battle Nexus: New York. I’d really like to see them get up to more shenanigans, though. (hint, hint @nickelodeon​, @netflix​).

Ultimately, Leo is a confident, competitive turtle striving to reach his full potential. He is normally great at encouraging his brothers to do the same, and devising grand strategies, but tends to forget the emotional effects his actions can have on them, especially if he gets carried away on his quest to be The Best. He’s still learning, and these traits will likely flesh out as he grows into a more leader-like role.

For more information on the ESTP and Enneagram 3 personality types, click here:

https://www.16personalities.com/estp-personality

https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-3

https://www.crystalknows.com/enneagram/type-3-wing-2

https://ih0.redbubble.net/image.155775924.2701/flat,800x800,070,f.u5.jpg

[adorablele]

a lovely day; p.js

↬ pairing; park jisung x reader ↬ genre; fluff, very domestic  ↬ word count; 2.3k+ ↬ summary; he teaches you how to ride a skateboard on your first date at the park   ↬ a/n; for dahlen ♡ @jisvngy​ ; let’s not focus on how I missed your birthday. this is your gift that was supposed to be a timestamp. I hope that you had an amazing birthday and that you received all the love in the galaxy because that is what you deserve. please enjoy <3 also this isn’t proofread

“Jisung, hey!” you greeted, standing at the skate park entrance.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his head. He failed to focus on the flip he was doing mid-air, and before he knew it, he was rolling down the ramp, skateboard sliding down next to him.

You gasped, guilt and worry seeping through your veins as you saw his friend–you believed his name was Jaemin–lent him a hand to pull him up. Jisung accepted the blue haired boy’s help and then grabbed his skateboard, quick to leave the ramp full of other skaters. The tips of his ears were flushed red in embarrassment; that only caused more guilt to flood to your heart.

“I’m so sorry,” you immediately exclaimed, hands reaching out and examining his arms, “are you okay? Did you get cut again? I have some-”  You paused when you saw Jisung flush a deeper shade of red. 

You were embarrassing him.

And Jisung was embarrassed, but not because of the iron-man band-aids you had on hand for him or the frantic concern etched into your eyes (you were absolutely adorable and it made his heart melt). Rather, he was embarrassed because he failed to successfully complete the trick in front of you. He could care less about the snickers of the other skaters or the teasing smirks of his friends. 

All that mattered was you.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, noticing how the two of you managed to capture a bunch of attention, “should we get going?” 

He nodded mutely, arm tightening around his skateboard. 

With his confirmation, you started to walk out of the skate park.

“You’re going to have to speak sometime,” Chenle teased.

“‘I’m going to impress y/n with this trick, just you watch,’” Hyuck imitated, recalling Jisung’s words from before you arrived.

“‘They’ll think I’m so cool!’” added Renjun, causing Hyuck to double over in laughter.

Jaemin attempted to encourage jisung, “You always have next time-” 

“To fall,” Jeno laughed, interrupting the hopeful words of Jaemin. 

Jisung rolled his eyes at them, “Whatever, you guys aren’t the one who’s going on a date.”

You watched as Jisung shook his head at his friends and walked over to you with a smile. 

Only a few feet away was an actual park, fields of green grass and dandelions welcoming the two of you. For a while, it was silent, only the faint clatters of skateboards against the concrete and the chatter of other park-goers. 

“Here good?” you asked, stopping right by a tree. It provided enough shade and privacy for your...date. As you thought of the word, you tried not to giggle out of giddy. You felt stupid, but that didn’t stop the wide grin on your face when he nodded.

He set down his skateboard and helped you lay out the blanket.  

You started to unpack the food in the basket, a tub of cookies you baked for him hidden at the very bottom. You remembered casually asking his friends what his favorite cookies were and they all replied, ‘anything from you.’ While their answers managed to heat up your face, it wasn’t quite helpful. In the end, you baked the basic chocolate chip cookies. 

You really hoped that he liked them. 

Closing the basket, you gave a brief rundown of all the food that you packed and you felt relief massage your shoulders when he happily munched away. Anyone looking at your picnic would see two people simply eating while admiring the scenery in front of them with occasional glances at the other person when the other wasn’t looking. 

It was a bit awkward, as all first dates tend to be, and eventually, all the food was gone except the cookies. You felt your heart speed up, nervous energy tingling your hands as you clutched the tub. 

“Room for dessert?” you asked, showing him the cookies.

His eyes lit up with delight, “Of course.”

Fumbling with the lid, you prayed to any higher being that these cookies were as good as you remembered them to be when you tasted them earlier. 

Jisung chuckled from beside you, “Do you need help?”

“Sure,” you mumbled, face heated as you handed him the tightly lidded plastic container.

He nervously laughed when he, too, started to fumble with the lid, but you were too busy getting distracted by the rays of sun that peeked through the leaves of the tree above and highlighted the youth of the man in front of you. 

In a daze, you didn’t realize he managed to open the container until he let out a triumphant ‘a-ha!’ Back was the anxiety. You shook your head when he offered you to take a cookie; you insisted that he should taste it first. 

“Okay,” he shrugged, grabbing one. You licked your lips nervously, time ticking incredibly slow as he lifted the cookie to his mouth.

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four until he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. 

“Wow, these are really good! Where did you get them?”

All the weight on your shoulders lifted at his complement and you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “Really, you think so?”

He bit into another cookie, “Yeah, I’m about to eat all of this, are you sure you don’t want one?”

“No, it’s okay! I taste tested a lot when I was baking them,” you chuckled.

Jisung lingered on your words. You baked cookies for him.

You chuckled again, feeling a bit shy when he stopped mid-bite of his cookie at your confession, “I’m glad that you enjoy them though. I tried asking your friends what your favorite was but they weren’t helpful. I was actually thinking about baking-”

“Th- this is my favorite!” he sputtered, stopping your ramble session, “these are my favorite cookies.”

You tilted your head, “Chocolate chip cookies?”

He shook his head, “Any cookie baked by you is my favorite.”

Although his friends told you he would say that, it still caught you off-guard. He continued to casually eat his cookie while you felt like you had the power to fly, to soar high like the birds chirping up above. But you didn’t realize that he was only stuffing his face with more food in hopes that it covered the erratic beating of his heart. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, staring down at dandelion next to you.

The cookies were an ice breaker, allowing him to ask if you were serious about baking and you told him that you only considered it a hobby. You asked him about skateboarding, and his eyes reflected the sun’s rays as flowers bloomed at the tip of his tongue. Passion darted through his irises as he shared how he wished to accomplish a certain trick–a heel flip 720, you think–and how thrilling it is to be up so high in the air. You almost pinched yourself to make sure that you hadn’t melted into a puddle when his lips curved into a faint heart, his smile breath-taking and the low rumble of his laugh sweeping you off your feet. 

He finished the last cookie, unaware of the tiny crumbs in the corner of his mouth. Instinctively, you grabbed a napkin and wiped them away. His voice faltered in the middle of explaining how Renjun pushed Hyuck who bumped into Jeno who hit his skateboard which rolled over to Jaemin who tried kicking it back to Jeno, but ultimately just made it roll towards Chenle who was busy on his phone and almost tripped on it. 

“And he didn’t warn…”

You told him to continue his story, leaning back to your original position on the picnic blanket. You smiled softly at him like you didn’t just cause the butterflies in his stomach to flutter.

He only stared at you with wide brown eyes and an o shaped mouth. You chuckled and pinched his cheek, “Cute.” 

All the words Jisung wanted to say, whatever else would’ve finished the story he was telling, vanished. He could only stare into your eyes, wondering how in the world an angel lost their way to heaven. 

He then got an idea.

“Do you want to try skateboarding?”

“What?”

He stood up, brushing off any grass that stuck to him. He turned to you with a smile, “I could teach you.”

You didn’t want to set yourself up for embarrassment, but he looked excited. 

“Okay.”

“We’ll start on the grass since it’s softer,” he informed, laying out his skateboard. Lending his hand, he pulled you up from the blanket. “Get used to standing on the board first.”

You listened to his advice and planted yourself on the skateboard. The nervousness surrounding your pounding heart made it hard to focus on his instructions about posture. Though, you assumed you were doing well because he asked, “Ready to move onto the sidewalk?”

No, you weren’t, yet you found yourself wobbling anxiously on his skateboard that sat on the smooth sidewalk. 

“It’s okay, I got you,” he reassured. Jisung held your hand, his other supporting the small of your back. “If you fall, I’ll catch you.”

His sentence sounded cliche which caused you to laugh lightly. 

“What?” He asked, smiling slightly at the melodic sound.

You shook your head, “nothing, what said just sounded cliche is all.”

“It’s true,” he shrugged. 

you hummed in agreement before staring straight ahead at the clear path. “So...I’ll just go down there.”

“Yep, it doesn’t curve and it’s relatively flat,” he observed, “you’ll be fine.” 

You let out a loud exhale, “Alright.”

“Ready?”

You nodded.

Slowly, he started to push you. The trees around you started to blur green and before you knew it, Jisung was shouting behind you, “You’re skating!” The wind caressed your face and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

It was peaceful.

You could hear the wheels bumping against the sidewalk. Why was it bumpy? Jisung’s heavy footsteps pounded behind you as you started to wobble. 

Your stomach dropped. 

This was it. This was where you fell and hurt yourself. You squeezed your eyes shut while awaiting for the impact of the floor. The floor never said hello because Jisung practically tackled you, allowing his body to greet the floor rather than you.

He winced, face churned into a grimace. 

Your eyes widened and you quickly sat up. “Oh my- Jisung, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he choked out.

The discomfort in his words prompted you to stand up. With the aid of your hand, he followed suit. You ushered him back to the blanket, worried eyes scanning over the blond boy. He waved you off, insisting that he was fine despite the tiny scrunch of pain between his brows. 

You brushed away his bangs, checking to see if he had any cuts on his head. Too caught up in your concern, you didn’t realize how close you were to him. “Are you sure you’re fine?” you brushed away pieces of grass he had in his hair, “you hit the ground pretty hard.” 

This was the second time today where you left Jisung speechless. He didn’t know what to say, he suddenly forgot how to speak. When you failed to get a response, you focused on his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheek, eyes aligning against his. 

You realized it now; the two of you were quite close. 

Blinking, you backed away, bringing your hand along with you. Your focus shifted to his arms and hands, checking to see if he needed band-aids. You continued rambling on, apologizing for being the cause of him crashing to the ground, not once, but twice. “I could’ve just fell and it would’ve been fine. There was no need to dart after me like that, I mean you already got hurt today-”

He called out your name.

“I’ll bake you more cookies to make up for it! I know you said that any type that I bake is your favorite but-”

“Y/n,” he told you, hands wrapping around yours.

You looked up at him.

“Just...lie down with me.”

He slowly rolled down onto his back while letting out short winces here and there. Each time you tried to reach for him, he waved you off, “I’m okay, just lie down.”

Once he was fully situated, you did as he asked. 

It was silent as the two of you gazed into the endless depth of the vivid blue sky decorated with white cotton clouds. You could hear the birds harmonizing with the melody of the wind. Children’s laughter and the hum of the cars passing by accompanied the track. You could smell the reminiscence of your chocolate chip cookies and the refreshing scent of grass. The blanket beneath you was soft, warm like the sun beaming down on the two of you.

Something tickled your left hand.

You almost panicked that it was a bug until you felt slender fingers slot themselves loosely between yours. You resisted the urge to turn your head and kept your focus trained on the sky. 

The blanket was still soft under you, albeit a bit cozier this time. The air was still filled with the scent of grass, yet it was mixed with vanilla and wood. The children still laughed, the cars still roared, the wind still whistled along with the birds, but they all moved along with the loud beat of your heart. The sky still matched the sea, white clouds swimming before your eyes, though, one specific cloud caught your attention.

A heart. 

You found yourself smiling. It looked like a heart. You turned your head to the left, physically feeling your whole being soften at the love that swirled in the chocolate rings of Jisung’s eyes, or perhaps they just mirrored the passion floating in your own eyes. When he gave your hand a light squeeze, you knew that it wasn’t one sided. 

“I like you,” he whispered, words light and airy.

“Enough to go on a second date?” you mused. 

He gave your knuckle a peck, “Enough to go on as many dates as you want.”

[legendaryjohnmarston]

@sunnysbright ask and ye shall receive

Willex Forza/Racing AU

Willie is a race car driver. He's been obsessed with it for years, he loved the thrill of racing and doing all kinds of tricks with cars in empty parking lots at 3am. Caleb wasn't thrilled but considering he performs (though not as dangers stunts) himself, helped Willie out and made sure he became really good at it before he allowed him to enter races

Which is how he finds himself at the LA racing festival, decked out in a awesome tie-dye uniform showing off to a small crowd by doing some donuts in the area

Alex is a photographer (he's also in a band, but unfortunately they didn't get any gigs at the races) and decided to take some pics of the races to sell/post online of the festival

He's innocently taking pictures of the cars when he's almost hit by the most colourful vehicle he's ever seen that's doing donuts. The guy that came running out from to check on him it was cute, too

Alex later finds out the cute guys name is Willie, who apologized endlessly about it. Alex tries to shrug it off, but Willie insists he makes up for it, so they go to the closest coffee shop and Willie buys his order

They end up talking for a while, and they're both surprised how easy it is to talk to each other. They're both disappointed when Willie has to leave for his test-run, and after a while he gives Alex his phone number, hoping to meet up again

(Alex gets to the apartment later than he said he would. The guys interrogate him until he tells them what happened, then they just tease him because he's blushing like crazy and Aw Alex has a crush-)

Willie puts all kinds of cute and flashy stickers on his car. The drivers side door is covered in skateboards, hearts, animals, you name it. After meeting Alex and finding out he's in a band he puts up a sticker of some drum sticks, and Alex becomes so flustered over it

Luke is a dj (also in the band) and was the one who dragged both Alex and Reggie to the festival in the first place because he was offered to do cover the opening acts and was allowed to take some guests

Reggie is a blogger (ALSO in the band) and he absolutely falls in love with it. The colours!! The people!! The cars!!!

Julie and Flynn do a radio show together. They meet her at the first event and Luke falls (literally) head over heels for Julie. They end up talking for ages about music and really hit off

Willie takes Alex for a spin in his car and Alex nearly has a heart attack because yeah he knows Willie is going only a little bit above the speed limit and they have seatbelts on and he's a professional but we just barely made it around that turn Willie- NO DON'T MAKE A U-TURN HERE!!!

Safe to say when Willie pulls back to the apartment Alex has to peel himself from the seat

The next time they hang out, Willie takes him to the skate park. It's late and it's only them, and Willie teaches Alex how to skate. There's lots of hand-holding and quick glances. They stay there until 3am and Alex drives them home. Willie falls asleep in the passenger seat and Alex can't stop thinking about how cute he is

When the actual races come Alex literally cheers so hard for Willie he loses his voice the next morning, and the others tease him for it but they're voices are also raw because they were cheering for him just as hard.

They go to every one of his events during and after the festival

One of the last races it was raining pretty hard, and Willie lost control of the car on a sharp turn, running into the guardrail. He was fine, but Alex was almost frozen with fear and never left his side at the hospital (it was only a night or two, but still). It was then that he realized how much he cared for him

Just before the closing act Willie tales Alex to a cliff overlooking the main event. They jam to the loud music while stargazing on the car hood and holding hands, and honestly it's just magical

I got so carried away with this but anyways

[tangent101]

Unpopular Opinion Time

I’m going to say something that I know some folk are going to disagree on... but I honestly feel that Max Caulfield is a closeted lesbian instead of being bisexual. And I think there is sufficient information in the game and with Max’s journals to verify this viewpoint.

First, it’s important to explain something: you can be lesbian and still have had sex with men. There are lesbians who were married to men for years before finally accepting the truth about themselves... just as there are gay men who were suppressing the truth about themselves and then after a decade or more and having had kids, divorcing their wives because they were gay all along. You can be lesbian and not know it... all you know is that something is wrong. You know that you should be happy with a guy and can even have the most decent boyfriend or husband in the world... and yet it doesn’t work because you are not wired that way. It happens.

These women (and men) were raised to believe they were straight. They were raised to believe they should be dating someone of the opposite gender. They can end up having families and yet have that niggling sense of something being wrong in the back of their heads. This is because of a concept called heteronormativity or the view that heterosexuality is the default sexual orientation. You can be raised believing you’re straight (or cisgender for that matter) and never quite understand why things feel off. 

Now let’s look at Max Caulfield. Folk like to claim she’s bisexual because of the pseudo-romance angle with Warren Graham and with Max’s claims of being attracted to “skater dudes” but that the attraction isn’t mutual. Yet when you see Max interacting with the skaters of Blackwell, she knows pretty much nothing about them and outside of the whole “I’m into them” never seems to show any actual attraction toward them. It’s a line that falls flat. It’s like the writers decided to check the box “likes guys who ride on skateboards” and never went anywhere with it... or at least it might seem that way until you find out that Chloe Price was into skateboarding... Max’s best friend who she is increasingly crushing on as the game continues. It’s reasonable to ask how much of Max’s attraction to “skater dudes” is because she is into Chloe skating but doesn’t realize for a while that she could be into Chloe. 

Max’s relationship with Warren is more complicated. There has been claims that Warren’s romance angle (which never was that strong a path in the game, especially when compared to that of Chloe) was added in because of a strong positive fan reaction to Warren. Even then, there are enough actions that Warren takes that honestly are disturbing that honestly, Warren is not a good match for Max. The boy photoshops a picture of Max with him and keeps it in his gym locker - a place that Max is unlikely to ever see it, but also a place where other guys will see it and thus give Warren “bragging rights” about Max. He also has a date lined up with Brooke but asks out Max and then if the player has Max accept Warren’s date invite will call Brooke while Max is still around and cancel the date with Brooke and state he’s going with Max instead. He even instigates fights with Nathan Prescott, likely in an attempt to “show off” to Max and to be her “knight in shining armor.” 

A much larger factor as to why I just don’t get a sense of Max being into Warren is her journal. I half-suspect some fans don’t bother reading it which is a shame as it gives a lot of important details about Max and her thoughts and views. Most important to this is her early comments about Warren in which outside of considering him “dark and witty” she shows no attraction to him. In fact, on the first day of the game, her journal has this specifically to say:

We talked about Warren and Dana implied he likes me. Ew.

Damning words. Seriously, she went “ew” over a “dark and witty” guy “liking” her. Another torpedo in the water has this comment in Max’s journal if she accepted the date with Warren: 

Hope he doesn't make a lame move on me... (Not that he would, egomaniac.) Warren and I do have a lot in common, but he's like a supercool geek brother...

First, she doesn’t think Warren is into her. In fact, even entertaining that thought has Max calling herself an egomaniac. But what’s especially damning is the fact she considers Warren a “supercool geek brother.” I’m sorry, but Max went beyond Friendzoning Warren. She brotherzoned him.

The closest her journal has to suggesting Max is at all attracted to Warren is her journal entry if you didn’t kiss Chloe and do kiss Warren: 

Considering how insane my life has been this week, kissing Warren in the middle of a deadly storm didn't seem to be that strange. It felt like we were flipping off the cruel universe... and if I was going to die, I wanted one kiss from a boy I cared about.

Honestly it’s not much different if you also have Max kiss Chloe (though the line changes to “I wanted one kiss from two people I truly cared about”), and honestly if she thinks about Warren as a brother then obviously she’d still care for him. So the whole bit of Max being into Warren really starts to fall apart when you take a long look at the facts and Max’s journal.

Another interesting bit can be found in Max’s journal if the player has Max not kiss Chloe... and it’s this line: 

I would have, but I didn't like being dared like it was some big deal. Maybe I am scared. Of what? I think I'm too young for marriage.

Later, again if Max hadn’t kissed Chloe, when she returns from her first timeline alteration trip she writes this in her journal: 

I've never been so glad to see Chloe in my life. The second I saw her blue hair and that beautiful pissed off face, I kind of regretted not kissing her when she double dared me. Maybe if she had double dog dared me...

And Max’s final entry in the “didn’t kiss Chloe” setting is thus:

Maybe that's why I hated watching Chloe being so cruel in the nightmare, calling me names and trying to hurt me... I was surprised that it was like a physical pain in my heart. Is that the power of love... or friendship?

Is that the power of love... or friendship? Max asks that in both settings, in which she kissed Chloe and where she didn’t. It’s much more obvious when Max is busy kissing Chloe on that third day (and seriously, Dontnod should have included an option for Max to say “then don’t back away this time!” if you have Max Rewind for another kiss three or more times).

The argument for Max being into guys is at its heart as flimsy as that of Chloe being into guys because she has condoms in her wallet. Yet the condoms can be explained away as used to keep sex toys sanitary (yes, women can get STDs from other women if they’re not careful!), and Max’s “interest” in guys can easily be seen as “expected” of her. Given that Max can literally step out of Chloe’s closet to protect Chloe... Life is Strange can easily be seen as Max’s coming to terms with her own lesbianism and stepping away from an easy and expected life to embrace the unknown with the woman she loves by her side.