#no this is so real of her though. if anyone insulted my interests ever again i would just fucking leave

[the-lark-ascending69]

i’m begging please make the flayed robin a fic it would be so good

Hii anon I'd love to!! However I am unable to write fanfic in this moment of my life. Ever since 2022 my life can only be summarized in college stuff, college stuff, a little bit of work and more college stuff. I am falling behind on my reading schedule as we speak lol 🙃 i expect to be free to write some time after... 2028, maybe (big maybe). I CAN draw though, which is not such a long-term compromise. Maybe I'll manage to draw something one of these days.

For the time being I would like to redirect you to two GREAT flayed!Robin fanfics that I adore, the devil's after both of us by @eskawrites and We're Going to End You by UnholyHelbig. Both featuring ronance. These are the only ones I know. Sadly, looking up "flayed Robin" on ao3 hasn't turned out to be a very fruitful search, but that doesn't mean there aren't more out there! I'll have to keep searching. If anyone reading this knows of more flayed!Robin fanfics please lmk!! Of course there's also @snowangeldotmp3 's rebel robin: surviving the upside down AU, which I'm still trying to catch up with, but it sounds like they're working on some cool flayed!Robin stuff!

While I can't give you a fanfic I CAN share with you some flayed!Robin ideas I have:

Vecna/the Mind Flayer is incredibly subtle this time, choosing to corrupt Robin rather than completely taking over her body and replacing her. He preys on her darkest thoughts, which are generally, jealousy, resentment, shame, self-deprecation hopelessness and loneliness. They both open the door for him, and act as weapons he uses to slowly torture her and turn her against her loved ones.

It begins with Robin feeling irritable, out of place, especially with Steve. Steve suddenly stops feeling like home and more like someone she shares a loving bond with but who can never really understand her, because he's a heterosexual man, because he has money, because he's high on the social pyramid and she spent her whole teenage years fighting to not fall to the bottom, because he can allow himself liberties not permitted to her. She begins to resent him. When she begins to isolate herself from him, it becomes incredibly easy for Vecna to make her spiral further and further down.

Almost nothing Robin says while possessed is 100% untrue. It tends to come from something she really feels. In normal circumstances, Robin would feel a bit sad knowing Steve can never fully understand her experience. Flayed!Robin resents him over it and wants to hurt him. But the pain is there. There ARE exceptions though, and they're interesting because the others are so used to hearing her say evil half-truths that when she says something so horriffic the real Robin couldn't possibly believe it, they think she means it deep down.

Flayed!Robin isn't physically violent - another reflection of the real Robin's nature. He uses her silver tongue to attack the others.

There's a lot of confusion from the rest of the group, even once they figure out she IS possesed, because its like she keeps coming back before being pulled under again. One moment she's acting normal and the next she's telling Nancy she always ruins everything. It's hard to tell what is true and what is a lie

Flayed!Robin targets Nancy specifically, not because it's particularly useful to Vecna - I mean, it is, but there's more to that - it comes from Robin's shameful love for Nancy, the source of so much pain. Flayed!Robin takes her anger out on her.

Flayed!Robin particularly enjoys making Nancy cry. Her favorite method is reminding her of Barb, blaming her for everything that goes wrong and telling her everyone would be better of if she were dead. Otherwise, she'll get them all killed until she's the last one standing. At the beginning though, she's just mean. She acts irritable and angry and rolls her eyes at her and doesn't take her seriously and casually insults her intelligence. She does it sparingly enough that Nancy actually wonders if she heard that right, if Robin is being serious, if it's just an instance of her "not understanding social cues" or if she really thinks she's "losing her spark" or "keeps talking nonsense lately", or whatever Vecna makes her say. This is one of the cases in which Robin doesn't mean what she says in the slightest.

Another way in which flayed Robin likes to taunt Nancy is by publicly accusing her of homosexuality. Everyone awkwardly ignores that most of the time (though sometimes Hopper sideyes her, Joyce closes her eyes and inhales deeply, and Mike snaps and loudly declares his sister isn't gay), and they ignore Nancy's sharp breath and tight fists when Robin says anything on the matter ("Aaw, Wheeler, are you in love with me? You know, I did take you for a queer but I didn't think you'd be after me. Thought you were still hung up on that Barb girl").

At the beginning of Robin's possesion, Nancy was incredibly kind to her, saying sweet, loving things to her even if unsure if she could hear her or not. She promised she would take care of her and that she'll be okay. Robin would usually roll her eyes and tell her, voice full of scorn, that if Nanch Wheeler is promising to "take care of her" then her odds aren't very promising. It hurts Nancy so much to hear that. She thinks there's a little bit of the real Robin behind those words.

Nancy becomes exhausted after some time. Exhausted and angry. She convinces herself it's only Vecna in there, and she refuses to offer him any kindness. He will pay for what he did to the girl she loved.

When they get her and tie her up so they can think of a plan, they leave her alone for a moment, and for the first time, Vecna retreats entirely, to let her fully feel the bite of ropes around her wrists, keeping her immobilized, tied to the chair. He wants her to fully feel the terror of her trauma without any numbing effect. Bonus points if she's not fully alone - Nancy is keeping watch, and Robin is scared and confused as to why she looks at her with such cold eyes, why she won't help her, why she won't comfort her when she sees her panicking and crying and begging. It's the worst torture so far, and when Nancy steps forward, and looks at her with so much hate, and says "Shut. Up", Robin feels her heart break all over again (Nancy had told her she loved her once and she never knew what she meant by that. She supposes the love is gone now). She has no idea Vecna has played with Nancy in this way a million times before.

Whenever they drug her to keep her unconcious, Nancy gives her as much physical affection as she can - stroking her cheek, brushing her hair, cuddling her. She wonders if, in this way, Robin will feel something Vecna doesn't.

When she comes back, Robin remembers everything she said while possessed and won't stop apologizing, refusing any comfort Nancy tries to offer her because she thinks she doesn't deserve it, but Nancy won't hear any of that. She stays by Robin's side no matter what, even if it means skipping school or not sleeping. The girl she loves is back and she's not wasting a single second more away from her.

[starrydaycare]

Hi love ur content! Can you pls do a tickle fic with pomni getting tickled by gummigoo or jax! Thank you have an amazing day! :)

Hey! Thank you, and yeah I can very much do that. Apologies if it isn't the best, though. This is my first tickle fic I've written.

Lee!Pomni and Ler!Jax, Thoughts upon Thoughts and a certain Purple Rabbit. 1,306 words. Despite this being a non-agere post, this is still an sfw account. DNI if not child safe!.

Pomni sighed, a mixture of exasperation, hopelessness and sadness going through her at the moment. Five days ago, she had been living her life in the real world, doing this and that, having fun with her friends and family. Five days ago, at around 7:50AM, she found herself in a strange circus. Five days ago she was told that she was unable to leave ever again; that she was trapped here... 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. Now, of course she wasn’t going to just accept this! There had to be a way for her to leave! There just had to be! ... At least, that’s what she told herself.

It’s almost been a full week since she entered the digital circus, and despite her attempts to find a way out, she remained there, surrounded by new people who had been trapped there for far, far longer than she had. They were... Okay. Yeah, they were fine. Ragatha was nice enough, she still felt bad about leaving her behind at first on her first day here. But she seemed to forgive her, so Pomni figured that she should leave it in the past. Kinger was interesting, to say the least. He was definitely a character, his short-term memory messed up. But he was nice, regardless. Even if he could be a little out of it at times; he was nice to talk to.

Zooble was, well, Zooble. They were nice enough, Pomni supposed. They seemed pretty over this circus stuff, which Pomni could relate to. Gangle was kind. She seemed like a sweet girl to Pomni. Though, her emotions were usually stuck to sadness thanks to her tragedy mask, which was almost always the mask residing on her face. Jax made sure of that, always pushing her down or insulting her.

Jax. Ohhh, Jax. Jax was probably the one human in the digital circus which Pomni didn’t really want to be around. To be fair, for her first few days, Pomni didn’t really want to be around anyone, preferring to just stay in her digital room, snuggled up in her digital bed...

The other circus members had grown on Pomni, but not Jax. Jax was mean, from what Pomni could tell. He constantly messed with the people in the circus, from breaking Gangle’s comedy mask to putting centipedes in Ragatha’s room just to mess with her. Pomni couldn’t fathom 𝘸𝘩𝘺 he would do that to the only other humans trapped here. They were all in the same messed up situation, so why not make the best of it? ... She sounds hypocritical now. She’s been focused on escaping, ignoring the group. Yeah, that’s hypocritical.

But can you blame her? Most people would do the same in her shoes, she thought.

It was fine, though. Well, not really. She’s finally come to terms that she is very much not leaving this place... Goodness, how does a place like this even come to 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵? What cruel, cruel person decided “hey, yeah, a digital circus in which humans are trapped in until they lose their marbles is a funky little idea!”. She didn’t even want to think about who would think like that. She was sad enough already, feeling hopeless; defeated.

Pomni continued walking around the big circus area, alone. The others had gone on their daily adventure, made by Caine. Well, not Zooble. Zooble never went on the adventures; Pomni could see why. But Zooble was in their room at the moment, and regardless, Pomni just felt like being alone for a bit.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a voice and a poke to her side; a touch which she did 𝘯𝘰𝘵 squeal at. No siree, not her! “Hey, Newbie!” Ughh... 𝘑𝘢𝘹. 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵. Just who she wanted to see as she walked around, alone. “What is it, Jax?” she asked, exasperated. “Hey, hey! No need to be such a @#$-#!” She grimaced at the wonky censor. “Just trying to see my favorite new jester! Y’know, you seem kinda... Down-in-the-dumps-depressed lately.” He noted.

“Thanks, Jax. Didn’t know.” She replied, rolling her eyes. “𝘚𝘯��𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘴𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘺, 𝘫𝘦𝘦𝘻. Chill out, would you? Getting yourself all bent-out-of shape!” He accused with a laugh, poking her side again, another squeal leaving her mouth. “Jax, stop that!” She snapped. She wanted to be 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, and she was supposed to be for at least a while longer! “Why, kid?” Ohhh, that... That Jax! “Jax! Knock it OooFFF–” The end of her sentence is high pitched, turning into another squeal as he began repeatedly poking at that spot. “JjjAHAHAHX!” She scream-laughed as his pokes turned to him spidering her sides–that’s right, sides, as in plural. Both of his hands now spidered along her sides–for reasons unknown to her. Was this another prank!? The first prank he pulled on her!? “KNOHOHOCK IHT OFFFHAHAH–!” “Hmmm... I don’t know, Pomni. You seem a lot happier now, and I’m enjoying this! Hmmm... What to do, what to do?” He pretended to think, not letting up with his relentless tickling. “JAHAX!”

“Hmm... Oh, yeah! I got a great idea, Newbie!” He teased, and despite the tickling letting up, Pomni knew better than to believe it was over. And she was right to act that way, as almost immediately his hands were skittering across the back of her neck. She squealed, throwing her head back and putting her shoulders up in an attempt to get the tickling sensations to leave. It was a failed attempt.

“Woah there, Pomni! Looking unsteady there, aren’t we? Don’t fall! Wouldn’t want an accident, now would we?” He spoke, that cheshire grin visible on his face. That look usually meant trouble, though Pomni couldn’t focus on that, too preoccupied with the fingers skittering along her neck. She brought her hands up, weakly fighting against it. Though they both knew it was half-hearted.

His hands drifted down to her exposed armpits, taking advantage of the fact that her arms were up, trying to get his hands away from her neck. His hands started their assault once more, forcing laughs and squeals out of the poor jester, who now had tears threatening to fall due to it all. As he continued to tickle her, he helped her lie down, giving him far more access (and making it to where she wouldn’t accidentally fall from the tickling). His hands spidered along her clothed ribs, side and tummy, loud laughs from the jester like music to Jax’ ears.

She wiggled and squirmed, head thrown back with tears of laughter in her eyes. “JJAHAHHAX–AAHHHHAHH!” Coherent sentences no longer formed for her, thanks to Jax’ actions. Coherent thoughts didn’t form, either. So Jax’ plan, which Pomni was unaware of, had been successful.

He finally gave her mercy as she started claiming that it was too much. His hands left her sides and he crossed his arms. For a moment Pomni just laid there, still letting out weak giggles. Her giggles stopped soon enough, and with a sigh, she wiped her tears of laughter away from her eyes.

“Feeling any better, Newbie?” Jax asked. “Hhahhhuh?” She answered, questioning. “You’ve been kinda... Down-in-the-dumps, as I said before, lately. All depressed.” He replied.

“Ohh.. Yeahhh, I–... Yeah. Um, the whole new... Trapped-in-a-digital-circus thing hasn’t been the best for me.” She admitted. “So? Are you feeling any better at all? Or do we need to go again?” Jax threatened, wiggling his fingers in the air. A giggle left Pomni, and she subconsciously squirmed a bit. “Haha, nooo... I’m good. ... Yeah, that... Did help. Q lot, actually. Why did you...?” “Well, I had to make sure the new kid didn’t abstract already.” Jax explained, a grin on his face. “Mmm... Okay. Thanks, Jax.”

“Yeah, no problem, Newbie.” He said, and as Pomni sat up, she thought to herself that maybe, just maybe, this entire circus thing wouldn’t be too bad.

[mr-m-murdock]

hi! it’s the same anon that requested #86 with nat or smth (so very good omg)

can you write a fic with either nat or valkyrie (shes so hot in the new movie omg) using this prompt?

“fuck you” “yeah? how hard?”

got you down bad

| valkyrie x fem!reader |

warnings: asshole!valkyrie, reference to sex

a/n: YES I CAN. AND YES SHE IS SO HOT I DIED IN THE THEATRE FR. I WANT HER TO BE SO MEAN TO ME

Valkyrie is late. Again. There’s nothing you can do but sit there, tapping the end of your pen against the table and watching as the minute hand on the clock inches obstinately onward. You’d be less agitated if you didn’t know exactly where she is and what it is that she’s doing.

As it is, you're trying hard to keep your thoughts very far away from what you know she's doing and why she's late. You are unsuccessful, and your pen picks up speed against the table. Then, to add insult to injury, the doors to the conference room swing open hard and the King of Asgard comes sauntering in with her t-shirt inside out. Just to confirm what you already knew.

"You're late," you say curtly, as you stand for her entrance: she's still your King, after all, even if she manages to get on every single nerve you have. She just snorts at you.

"Sit down."

You sink back into your seat and pick up your pen again.

"I was busy," she says, stretching her arms above her head.

"Right," you say. "Busy." She flashes you a white-toothed grin that nowhere near meets her eyes.

"Come on, then," she says, sighing demonstratively. "What is it today? Ribbon-cutting? Clown dancing?"

"You'd excel at both," you say dryly. "We've received a request for you to meet the new Queen of Wakanda."

She tries not to show it, but it interests her. The twitch in her smile. The narrow of her eyes.

"And no, you can't decline," you add.

"God, you really don't think much of me, do you?" she says, still grinning, still looking you right in the eye.

"Maybe you should hire someone who licks your shoes when you walk in, then," you snap.

"But I like it when my women talk back," she says, the light playing in her eyes. Your pen snaps in your hands and ink goes everywhere, all over your paper pad. You curse and jerk back; you hadn't even realised you'd been gripping it that hard. Valkyrie laughs. Doesn't stop laughing.

She wipes her eyes and slaps the table. "But really, you should mind your manners," she says, through huffs of laughter. "I'm your King. And-" she leans forward, not laughing anymore- "If I wanted you to lick my shoes, rest assured sweetheart, I'd find a way to make you do it."

And the smile is back. You wipe ink aggressively off your hands.

"Fuck you," you say, and you stand to leave, shaking in the shoulders.

"Oh yeah?" Valkyrie calls after you. "How hard?" You slam the door closed.

You practically run off down the corridor, into an empty room with a desk and nothing else. She'll come looking for you. You grab the pack of tissues on the desk and scrub furiously at your fingers.

It's been like this ever since- well, ever since she first set eyes on you, probably. But the real genesis of the problem was when she followed you to the bathroom at the damn Met Gala of all places, and told you, stalking around behind you with her eyes on yours in the mirror, that she'd been thinking about fucking you for a while. Your hands had shaken under the stream of water.

As advisor to the King, you shouldn't have. Not in any universe. But you had, because you'd not yet understood that she was like this with anyone and everyone who caught her eye. And she'd dropped you just like that. No regard for a professional relationship, or, gods forbid, your feelings. And sure, maybe you were a little snarky with her, but when she turned up to royal meetings having obviously come straight from the bedroom, it stung. That was all there was to it. Like she was parading it in front of you.

You're not going to cry. Not out of anger. The emotions are rushing out of you, though, and you kick the leg of the desk in anger.

And then the door opens and Valkyrie comes in. Closes it behind her and leans on it. Well, shit; she's found you. She always does.

"I'm not really in the mood for royal affairs," she says. "But you really shouldn't run off like that."

"Go away," you say, your voice marvellously clear.

"No." She tilts her head at you. "They all think they're special, gorgeous. You're not alone in that."

"Great," you say, discarding your inky tissues onto the desk. "Maybe we should start a therapy group. What is your problem, by the way?"

Valkyrie just looks at you. Dead-eyed now, like a shark. "I don't have a problem."

You laugh, and you don't mean for it to emerge derisive, but it does. "Oh, you really do. Gods."

She pushes off the door and walks towards you.

"Absolutely not," you say, but she just reaches past you for the tissues and tucks them into her pocket. She's looking at you now, ninety degrees in your peripheral and you stare resolutely at the wall.

"You shouldn't litter," she says, painfully close your face.

"I'm not doing this again," you say. "And neither are you, right?" Now you look at her. "Because you never have anyone twice."

Nothing for a moment, just her gaze on your face. You can practically feel it tracing the features of your nose, your lips. "Some people surprise me," she says.

And then, dickhead, she pulls back, opens the door and walks away. Leaves you, inky and trembling and wondering, alone in the room.

requests | masterlist

notes: good prompt anon I enjoyed that 🥴 now I have to do one where she's nice 💔

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar @maggieromanov @waitingroom-pb @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @natsaffection @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624  @strangegardentaco  @phantomvael @lorsstar1st  @blckrwidow @ima-gi--na-tion @paryl @aan-myouim @smallestavenger @lainjupi  @d1s0nym @meimei-a @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115   @idkjustliving2 @lokisjuicyass @mmmmokdok  @silentwolfsstuff  @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout

[justanothercommonera]

I've seen others talking about their views on dramione, from both pro and anti perspectives, and I figured I'd share my thoughts as well.

So here's my take on dramione, as a dramione shipper.

First of all, I've seen people who are agaisnt the ship claiming its toxic. The truth is, they are correct. Dramione is a toxic pairing.

If they were real people, I'd be absolutely horrifed to imagine them together and would be disgusted with anyone who encouraged it. If they were real, Hermione wouldn't ever end up with him, and if she did, I'd be one of the people who would beg her to reconsider.

But the thing is, they AREN'T real people. If I wanted to read about real life, I'd pick up an autobiography.

When I watch a horror movie, I laugh at the characters for making dumb decisions because I know in real life, they're okay. When I read dramione and get excited over them being absolutely horrible to eachother, it's because that's what the author intended to do when writing that scene: Getting the reader involved.

It's exciting seeing them go at eachother with viscous spells, tossing out deep cutting insults, literally at eachothers throats, and then open another tab where they're being adorable and fluffy and soft.

It's fun! They can stay familiar to me depsite changing drastically.

Now as for Ron, I can't speak for the fandoms general hatred for him. I actually really like Ron, he's funny, I relate to him, and honestly I don't care about his relationship with Hermione, but I simply don't find them interesting together.

As a kid, I didn't even realize they were meant to be together until they were. I was a pretty clueless kid to be fair, but when they did end up together, my reaction was pretty much: "Oh. Okay."

That never really changed for me. I love their friendship, and I care more about that than their romance. And if they were real, I'd find them absolutely adorable, but again, they're not.

I do think the hate is absurd though. I frequently see Ron made into some complete idiot. Ron has issues with emotional intelligence at times, but that doesn't make him dumb, and I really wish that trope would die in dramione fics, but I digress.

Another aspect I find interesting about dramione is their personality traits. We know that your house doesn't mean a lack of other traits, just that those stood out more for you.

We know that clearly through Hermione especially, as we see her cunning, ambition, and resourcefulness. All slytherin traits.

I like the idea of Dracos "gryffindor" traits surfacing, and I like the idea of these attributes interacting between the characters. Draco's cunning luring out Hermione's, and her bravery dragging his up.

I'm also intrigued by the idea of those things working with eachother. Dracos resourcefulness aiding in Hermiones passion for helping others.

Anyway, that's really all I've got to say, if you read this far, here's a gif of a cat for your time.

[cvbullshit]

Now that Yandere Dev is dead in the water and his game is as deep in the sand as he is.. I, a random person on the internet, vote that we as a community take the concept of Yandere Simulator and make it into something better!

Because the concept IS decent, just the execution needs work... A lot of work.

Everyone should have their own ideas for it so Imma say my vague concept that I probably won't ever bring up again.

For my new take on the concept, for one, almost all the main characters are actually going to be adults. It's stated that they already are but that's bullshit that Yandere Dev clearly used to justify some in game bullshit, they're in fucking high school, maybe one could be 18, but not fucking all of them.

Second, I might replace Ayano with some demonic or otherworldly being that's not exactly in love with Taro but heavily obsessive and interested in him, possessive even. Because honestly, while the point of the story IS a Yandere school girl, that topic has been milked to absolute death and is prone to get boring as hell. Plus, it's my idea to rewrite the story, I can take it as far as I damn want!

If Ayano is a demonic being in this, possibly Taro could be in this occult team/club/gang/cult so that way Ayano has REASON to be interested and connected to him.

Taro, in this rewrite, is a complex person. He's a nice guy, lives alone with and takes care of his 13 year old sister after his dad ditched them and he kiiiinnnda murdered his mom for the cult he's in and because he just disliked her. Yeah, Taro ain't no goodie two shoes bland mf now! He may be nice, treats his sister well, and partly believes he's a good person but he's in a cult, is willing to murder people who he thinks deserves it or anyone who threatens to find out about his crimes, and he supports cannibalism, under the right circumstances though. He still comes off as, and kinda is, a nice guy who wants to help people in any way he can, real protective of his friends and whom he dubs as innocent. He's got the mentality of wanting to see half the world burn and half the world blossom, he wants all those he thinks are bad or beyond helping to suffer while he wants the ones he believes are innocent to live happy and healthy lives.

Him and Ayano's dynamic is something I'm still thinking about honestly, as while rewriting the other characters is somehow easy, rewriting Ayano is just a pain for me somehow, it's hard to really rewrite anything about her and I don't know why. I may keep her emotionless thing going on though, not sure.

For Taro's sister, she's a slightly bratty newly teen, is very attached to her brother as he's the only family she has left but isn't overly affectionate with him, if anything, she's the most bratty with him. She doesn't expect too much from him and doesn't believe she can pout or whine to get her way but slightly does so to be petty and because Taro doesn't really react negatively to it... Yet. She has no idea what happened to her mom, just views her as missing, and has no idea Taro is in a cult. To her, she's got a normal life, despite her mom going missing and viewing her dad as the biggest jackass alive.

Taro and Osana's relationship and meeting is pretty different in this, Osana won't be Taro's childhood friend, I'll be giving that to someone else, instead Osana is a girl living in an apartment building, cooped up in her apartment and barely interacting with the outside world. After a stalking and obsessive situation she was the victim of, leading to the death of her cat, she swore she'd never trust the world again. Her apartment is a mess as she has no friends, she cut off her family, and she has no one to even talk to, she could technically be counted as a slob but at least she keeps herself clean. She hates the world and especially has issues with men.

When she meets with Taro for the first time, she wants absolutely nothing to do with him, constantly is mean to him, insults him, ect. Taro would've not dealt with her after their first interaction but learns what a state she's in from the apartment building owner and vows to try to help her and be kind to her. Why? Because he feels bad for her... And because he accidentally ran over a cat so he feels the need to feel better about himself, using the excuse of trying to prove to the world or some higher force that he can still be a good person. So...

I will leave it there! My ramblings went off the rails and this is only a concept that I have no idea I'll even touch on again.

[clarichoupie]

Random things I noticed, or liked, in “The Quarry” after playing it over and over again. (part 2) (part 1 is here)

I didn't know you could see “Laura's boat” with Jacob by going to the far left of the docks.

Ok, so, I'm not going to talk about Emma's phone even though I should. However! Why, just why, did you put that damn rotor arm in your underwear Jacob?! Who does that?!

Watching Ryan call Dylan an idiot seems so right sometimes. I mean amputating a leg without “equipment” is not a good idea. Even with the werewolf thing. A hand, why not, but a whole leg? Meh, I'm not sure. Sorry Dylan.

When you have to say out loud and confirmed that you're not a b*tch, you often are, Emma.

Choosing the aggressive responses is so satisfying. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing Ryan and Dylan being cute together, but seeing them freak out and insult each other can be just as interesting.

Plus, Ryan's little laugh because he's not convinced that Dylan can shoot with a gun is just adorable.

Why, no matter what you do, Kaitlyn always loses the gun?! I didn't hesitate to give it to you so that you don't even use it!

Watching Dylan freak out is probably one of the most de-stressing things I've ever seen, for some reason. The “F*ck no”, “F*ck dude” and small gestures of fear; yep, it helps me calm down to see him being so scared.

The dialogues between Emma and Jacob just don't make sense. Like, they're really nice and then the next second they're real assholes, without you deciding! Very boring.

Does Jedediah play golf? Or baseball or something? Because he's got a really good swing.

Am I the only one who thinks that the characters' reaction to Kaylee's death is not normal? I mean, they don't need to break down in tears or be as shocked as Ryan who was close to her but damn it! There's a dead body in the pool! Of a girl you know by name and who looks innocent! Murdered in front of your eyes! Be a little sad instead of making jokes about it! (Even you Dylan...especially you)

Besides, when I killed Abi the first time, Ryan, Dylan and Kaitlyn didn't even care about their friend's head on the floor separated from her body. They were just sitting there talking to Laura, calmly. Seriously, these guys are either insensitive or totally insane.

“I'll tell mom." Seriously Chris? Are you like five years old to betray your brother like that to your mom? What is Constance gonna do besides insult Travis anyway, tell him he wasn’t wanted? He probably already knows that.

Where did Laura's eye patch come from? I mean, didn't anyone wonder where that accessory came from? Other than Travis owning pirate costumes or Laura knowing how to sew, I can't think of any other explanation.

When did Abi start acting like a warrior, defending everyone, when just before she was so freaked out that she couldn't do anything?

WHY, just, WHY, when I choose the aggressive option, does Laura think Ryan is flirting with her?!?! These kids really have a dumb view of flirting. Poor Ryan... no wonder why he doesn't understand social interaction or want to spend time alone if everyone is so weird around him.

Speaking of Ryan, I love his lines with Laura when he's upset : “A tour guide?”, “An eye for an eye.”, “All for a boy?”. This guy definitely makes me laugh.

“Jesus, Mary and jazzhands”? ...Sorry what? Do people who speak English really say that?

I thought so much in my first game that Ryan was a traitor (like in the game I won't mention...) but in the end the poor guy was just worried about his friends, it's just too sad.

[musical-chick-13]

I know we’ve talked about it a little but I wanna be reminded/hear you talk more about it. Rebecca/Nate 😅

So, I'm gonna be honest, I am...not a fan of this one. I don't even think I'd say I dislike Nathaniel, exactly, but I definitely thought the other characters were more interesting than him.

Mainly, I think this particular romantic arc dragged out too long. I understand that this show exists to-among many other things-deconstruct a whole host of common rom-com tropes, and "douchey misogynistic guy becomes marginally better because of one (1) quirky woman" is indeed a common rom-com trope, but I don't think the show spent enough time on brutally deconstructing it. Like...with Josh, we spent two and a half seasons breaking that down and showing why all of the stories that follow similar beats to their relationship don't hold up. And although we got the Nathaniel's rom-com dream episode (which is one of my favorites), and Rebecca's obsession titles shifting to Nathaniel, and "Nothing Is Ever Anyone's Fault," and the episode where he reads her diary and she goes "wtf dude, get out," compared to the amount of time they spent specifically deconstructing her dynamic with Josh and all the things that entails...this just didn't seem like enough.

If we take Greg, he went away to work on himself, and it's clear that he's a much different person when he comes back. And, yes, Nathaniel did get a few moments of "Omg, I'm so nice now" with other characters going, "But are you really" but there was so much about him that I just feel never got fully addressed. What he did to Josh's family. Cheating on Mona for months. His casual misogyny. (I also can't ever remember him like actually apologizing?) We spent a lot of time talking about why Josh and Greg weren't good endgame matches for Rebecca, and although what we were given in canon was enough to convince me that Nathaniel wasn't either, the fact that we weren't given as much time as with the other two makes it seem like the narrative is favoring him in some way. (Most of the fandom certainly thinks he was the Best Choice, even if the point was supposed to be that none of them were.)

I just...to ME, their banter was less "banter" and more "every straight white man I ever worked for insulting a woman he hates being attracted to." His support of her seemed less "support" and more "I am making this woman who did not ask into my own personal manic pixie dream girl for the sake of resolving myself of the part I played in my own issues." His "getting better for love" was canonically until almost the absolute very end. SOLELY. rooted in getting Rebecca to want to date him again.

And if, say, Josh's girlfriend we see him with at the end of the show turned out to have bpd, I believe that Josh would do the work and ask his therapist about it to understand what that mental illness is. And that if he badly handled her having an episode, he would apologize. And I believe that if Jason came back and dated Rebecca, he would do the same regarding her bpd. I just don't think Nathaniel would ever do any of that. I can't see Rebecca telling him that she's in the middle of a spiral and him taking the time to listen to and talk her through her symptoms or make her soup. (Honestly, I can't even see him, like...not getting annoyed with her for singing off-key while practicing.) And that's a really important requirement to sell me on a ship involving a mentally ill character-especially one with a particularly stigmatized illness.

Rebecca/Nathaniel is just...a little too real in the ways in which it's uncomfortable or pRoBLeMaTiC. I've met men exactly like this. I've been a woman like Rebecca (though obviously minus the more extreme behavior like arson and everything she did regarding Josh). And that makes it really hard for me to have any kind of narrative investment in this relationship. I see this exact dynamic play out in every other movie and tv show, and I gotta be honest, it is boring, if not downright insufferable every time it happens. And I'm all for people in fiction making each other worse, but we need at least one mentally ill main character who gets better. And given that "mentally ill lady gets better" was ultimately the central concept of the show, pairing her with Nathaniel in any long-term way seems directly antithetical to the story this piece of media was trying to tell.

Send me a ship and I'll give you my brutally honest opinion on it.

[tehamelie]

Community community (1.1)

Cause Hopey loves Maggie more than anything but she's scared it can't go anywhere cause she knows Maggie is going to end up marrying some man and have three fat babies so she all but drives her away, and all Maggie wants is to be wanted, she'll go after guys who make her lady parts go brrr but what matters is she'll come to anyone who makes her feel welcome, the girls could be happy together for the rest of their days if they just. . .

What was I talking about? Oh yes, we're rewatching Community. Back in the early to mid 2010s, as a happy carefree egg, I had a lot of good times watching this show with my friends, for day after day and endless summer nights. Even the gas leak year. Well, that's the only part I only ever watched once. That will be interesting when we get to it. But then, every episode of every season is interesting anyway.

Community was never the smartest or funniest show, not the snarkiest nor the sweetest. What it is, in my opinion, is the most advanced show on television yet. Fifteen years later it still seems like it comes from twenty years in the future, taking its lessons from generations of TV no one's even made yet. Let's see:

Community S1S1: Pilot

We're introduced to the esteemed (or just steaming) dean Pelton messing up a heartfelt inspirational halfway-through-the-first-week-of-the-semester speech to an unprepared and uninterested campus, where he mainly insults several of our main characters with negative stereotypes about community college. A strong introduction to the concept of the show, to the tone it's setting, to Craig Pelton, and to Greendale Community College.

Onto Jeff Winger, a lawyer who cheated his way to his degree, got found out, and has come here to cheat his way back with the use of his good friend professor Duncan who owes him for cheating the court when he was on trial for drunk driving. Jeff is so charming and manipulative, he seems to trick many viewers into thinking he's the main character he himself thinks he is. Don't believe his lies.

And here's Pierce Hawthorne, playing hide the sausage in the cafeteria line. That's not a euphemism, thankfully. Yeah, this is a silly bit of prop comedy, but it sets up Pierce's character beautifully without a word spoken. He's bad at stuff, and he goes to extraordinary lengths to cover up his many failures even though nobody even cares (or at least they were not going to care before he crushed his hot dog into a whole stack of buns), but just to salve his own ego. Pity Chevy Chase is an asshole, but then again, it gives the show a challenge later on when his real life assholishness spills over and needs to be written around for the story; a challenge to which it rises, I think.

And then we meet Britta, or rather, Pilot Episode Britta who's sort of her own separate character from Real Britta. Pilot Britta doesn't really do a lot except be bad at Spanish and put up a sort of cardboard feminist antagonism to Jeff. Look, every show needs a season or two to work out who the characters actually are, we can forgive a few cases of what TV Tropes calls "Early installment weirdness".

Speaking of TV Tropes, I like this lunch lady who explicitly refutes the role of "Magical N***o." I'd like to think they would have cast Aloma Wright to just directly recreate her character from Scrubs for this part, if they could. Or Whoopi Goldberg and her character from Star Trek. Or, yeah, you know, it's a pattern. And Community refuses to follow these patterns.

Some more weird Britta. There's some strokes of who her character is going to be (dropped out of high school to impress Radiohead, was at a protest once) but she's obviously mainly here to be a foil/love interest to Jeff, and looking for more than that is like panning for gold in a haystack. Though in a vacuum, it's fun to watch Jeff try to contort himself into a shape he imagines will make him attractive to her.

Enter Abed, and the deconstruction begins. It is funny how quickly and intuitively he cranks up the self-awarness and self-referentialness of the scene, but I'd like to note there's much more to him. In his first scene we see how he eagerly absorbs every bit of information* about people he meets and leaps at every chance to make a connection, and here he's excited about the first text message he's ever gotten. We could see this as a guy who loves people so much they can't stand to be around him. A sort of younger, unfiltered, unselfconscious Ted Lasso, if you remember that guy who drove his wife away because she couldn't keep up with the intensity of his care and appreciation.

And here he lays the foundation for the Greendale Seven in five minutes while Jeff is away manipulating Duncan. It's possible the joke here is supposed to be Abed is so bad at reading the situation (Jeff faking a study group in order to get face time with Britta) he ends up making the group real by accident, but you know what, screw Jeff. (Or rather, don't.) That narrative hinges on us both understanding his unspoken intentions and respecting them, but I'm on Abed's side of going with this opportunity to create a friend group.

Then we enter what's called in journalist jargon a "period of unstructured discussion". Though it's hard to keep up with the chaos without pausing my DVD every two seconds, it's beautifully coreographed chaos, with each character getting a carefully weighted amount of screen time as first Pierce tries to dominate the conversation and telling far too much about himself in his efforts to introduce the other characters and then Jeff acting as whatever the opposite of a moderator is, trying to excite rather than calm the arguments.

Children get pity but not respect, and adults, they get respect. But they also get the back of their head grabbed and their face pushed through jukeboxes.

I love that Shirley's establishing character moment here has nothing to do with her ethnicity, or her motherhood, or her religion, or her weakness for gossip, or her frequent passive aggression. Just trying to be the adult when the much younger Annie challenges her, dispensing some wisdom of the elder, and getting sidetracked halfway through her bon mot with what they call a suspiciously specific personal anecdote.

Then Pierce says something that could just as well come from the mouth of Donald Trump, but if I'm going to keep count of every time that happens I'm gonna need to take a math class. Troy and Annie's high school history of unrequited crushes and drug problems come back to haunt them (well, just her), things get truly chaotic and on the verge of getting ugly but then Abed saves the day by performing a scene from The Breakfast Club. It's so lolrandom, no, not at all. He enjoys doing it because he feels the study group is like being in that movie, but it's clearly a calculated act of distraction that allows everyone to take a step back and calm down.

Picture me reenacting the shot from the first episode of Firefly where Mal says of Simon Tam "He's my hero!" Cause Abed is my hero and I also like to say things that sound like a joke when they're true but saying them earnestly would make me emotionally vulnerable.

So anyway. Jeff trades his Lexus for Duncan's car that's so tiny you have to try to keep your knees out of your face when you sit in it, because he's just that desperate to not have to learn anything in the four years he's going to go to school. I realize I may be talking Jeff down a lot, maybe even a smidge more than he deserves. Maybe it's that he reminds me of my stepbrother and I can't say too many bad things about him since he's dead. But to be fair, Jeff is going to do a lot of work to redeem himself over the course of the show.

And boy does he need it.

In my headcanon, this is the first time Jeff ever uses his powers for good. Yeah, it's a cheap, shallow manipulative speech, playing to emotions without any particular substance, relying on his force of personality in a way that if you just wrote the words down it would not convince anyone - which is as far as we can see his entire method of making arguments - and he does it explicitly just to win a dinner with Britta by fixing the mess he created, but. Here we care about the results of an act of charity, not its intentions. And the Shark Week speech does even more than tape over the group's shredded emotions and bury its conflicts and dissolve the chaos. It gives these people an excuse to bond together, like we all wish we could. It tells each of them nice things about each other. It makes a fairly compelling argument in general for trying to recognize our fellow humans' personhood and acting in the spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation.

And as we'll come to see, from this moment on, the study group becomes unstoppable.

And then in sort of a coda we get a moral about how cheating doesn't teach you anything (especially when your cheat sheets turn out to be just a stack of blank paper), a moral that even someone like Jeff or Pierce is a human being worthy of regard, a moral about doing things for yourself and not trying to either please or spite other people, a moral about bright kids having a hard time learning how to study cause they don't have to do it until they're adults, and a moral about second chances. I may have missed some. There's just a parade of morals here.

Advanced Community proofs #1: Community does in the first episode what normal TV shows do in the first season, or first couple of seasons. It's not that dense with information (that's in later seasons, where practically every shot gets loaded with freeze-frame jokes and significant props) but it does such an elegant job of blazing through the motions of having an awkward first season and then having to work to reconcile rewritten characters with history they'll have to either keep quiet or just contradict. But here we start off a half note from perfect and hit perfect from from the second episode.

Dang I spent three hours on this. Probably won't be able to do even one episode a day.

*Information is measured in bits of data. Did you know someone proved a black hole's surface area grows by one square Planck length per bit of information it absorbs? Learning!

Episode list: S1E1 (that's this page!) S1E2 S1E3 S1E4 S1E5

[s7toru]

FLAWLESS EXECUTION — GOJO SATORU

in which gojo helps you escape death by recovering your memories the only way he knows how, by taking you out on one last date

warnings & tags: 5.3k, pure fluff if you ignore the ending, mutual pining where the only cockblock is the fact that you're a wanted criminal, profanities, dumb gojo and dumber fem!reader, lukewarm makeout scene, tons of bickering, amnesia plot

an impenetrable fog clouds your thoughts, keeping them apart from sparking and making sense of your situation. with a groan, you lift your head and slowly track your eyes around the unfamiliar room.

white papers with odd symbols decorate all four walls, fluttering ominously despite the lack of wind. you seem to be sitting in a chair, though how you got here and why your hands were being constrained to said chair was a mystery. the position causes your shoulders to ache as your arms are pulled behind you, tucked away using a strong knot. 

with a yank, you attempt to free your wrists but the rope only digs deeper.

"you're awake."

your head snaps up at the sound, locking eyes with the man in front of you, seated in a similar chair to yours. somehow, he makes the chair seem small. his white hair and obnoxious black blindfold is hard to ignore, which makes you wonder how you could have missed the sight of him earlier.

"who are you?" you croak, throat protesting after the lack of use. "where am i?"

"you ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

"are you going to answer any of them?"

"my name is gojo, gojo satoru." the man swings his arms over the front of the chair, leaning forward. "and you're in a waiting room."

"waiting for what?"

"execution."

"what?" the noise escapes you before you can think them through. weren't you just a normal, ordinary citizen last time you checked? there was no way the small shenanigans you got up to in your average life would ever result in a death sentence much less in a filthy, dim lit room such as this one. "listen, i think you have the wrong person. if you let me go now, i won't tell anyone what happened!"

"that's real cute, name, but i definitely have the right person."

you flinch when he says your name. "the worst thing i've ever done is illegally crack games. i'm sorry for doing that, i repent. but don't you think execution is a bit too much?"

"this isn't about your irrelevant gaming addiction. this is about the lives of millions." gojo stands from his seat and you have to crane your head to hold his eyes. "you're name, ex jujutsu student, current rogue sorcerer. on a causal saturday, you annihilated an entire clan albeit an irrelevant one, and now the higher ups of the jujutsu society want you dead. you decided that the best plan of action was to mind manipulate yourself with your curse technique and forget all about it, society and all, living instead as a normal citizen."

he circles around you, whispering the last few words in your ear. "ring any bells?"

you jerk away, wishing your hands were free so you could cup your red ears. "what is wrong with you? and no i don't remember, what is a jujutsu anyway?"

gojo shrugs. "i didn't expect you to remember. your control over your cursed techniques was always really good. as you are right now, you're simply a less interesting shell of who you once were." his hand lightly holds onto your arm and you have to twist your neck to watch.

slowly, he drags his fingers down your arm before stopping at the rope. "now that we have you in our hands again, the higher ups are going to execute you. want to know why?"

"isn't it because you think i'm responsible for ending lives?"

"correct! you're catching on quicker than when you hadn't erased your memory." even though you didn't know the you he was referring to, you still felt insulted on her behalf. "but it's also because you're useless to them in your current state. without knowledge of jujutsu, they have no use for you."

"jujutsu this, jujutsu that, why don't you just let me go before i get the cops on you, you lunatic." you growl.

his finger shakes on your wrist as he laughs. "do you think non-jujutsu people could hurt me?" gojo gives the rope a tug and the knot comes apart, thudding to the floor. your wrist fall at the loss of the ropes and you immediately pull them tight to your chest, scootching to the edge of the chair to place distance between the two of you.

with a newfound caution, you study gojo. "thank you?"

he grins. "no problem."

"didn't you say the authorities wanted me dead? why are you setting me free?"

"you aren't useful to them as you are now, which is why you're set up for death. the simple answer to this situation then, is to pretend like you remember who you are. if you do that, then they can place you on a leash and get you to do their bidding before they get bored and decide to kill you again!"

you stare at him. "so death or later death. those are the options i get?"

"i'm glad you get it!"

you clear your throat. "that's nice and all but—"

with a start, you stand up and grab the legs of the chair, lifting it over your shoulder before throwing it at the suspicious man. you made sure to put all your strength behind it, hoping to dent the ridiculous smile he had on his face.

unfortunately, the chair starts floating in the air.

with the chair in the way, gojo sulks. "that wasn't very friendly of you."

"the, the chair! it's floating? how are you doing that?" you babble mindlessly. there's only one conclusion you can reach. "you're magic."

"i'm jujutsu, technically." gojo gestures with his fingers and the chair settles back comfortably on the ground. "shall we have a talk? without any thrown chairs?"

there's a silence whilst you judge your options. there was a door in the room, obviously, but the fact gojo wasn't guarding it made you uncertain. and, you'd seen him stop a chair in the air with his mind alone. he was no longer a person you wanted to deal with.

you look back and sit on the chair he was sitting at earlier, and he rests on yours. you clear your throat, pressing your knees together and bringing your hands into your lap in hopes to appear smaller under his gaze. “sorry.”

“you’re oddly timid.”

“well,” you hesitate. “you’re magic.”

“it’s jujutsu.” he clarifies again. “and you’re made of it too. that’s how you massacred a family clan twenty one days ago and how you wiped your memory five days after that.”

“you’re saying all this but i really can’t imagine myself doing that.”

"can you imagine yourself doing anything?"

you open your mouth to question his strange words, then close it abruptly. under the spotlight, you couldn't fathom an image of your person. there were vague ideas, like the fact you had been working cooperate before this incident, or the fact that you had a cute little kitten waiting in your single apartment, but details about your likes or interests were blurry.

you swallow, but it's uncomfortable and your mouth is dry. "seriously?" you whisper. "i did all that?"

something on his face falls before he picks it up. "cheer up, name! that's why i'm assigned to your case. all you have to do is follow my orders and i'll get your memories back one way or another!"

"and the whole execution thing?"

he's still smiling as he say, "we'll work it out when we get there."

whatever comfort you felt at his previous words dissipates. "that sounds reassuring."

"doesn't it?" gojo seem oddly proud of his words. "now, you understand the gist of the situation, yes?"

"you all have it out to get me?" you murmur, somehow bitter.

"yes, and the only thing standing between you and death is your technique. and me. all you have to do is pretend you've reversed your technique on yourself and allow yourself to be used by the society. while that's happening, i'll help you actually get your memories back."

"and how will you do that?" you narrow your eyes at him. "did we know each other before the whole, you know, incident?"

"i was also a student back then. with you."

you scan him under a different perspective. "were we close, back then?" you ask.

gojo doesn't give an immediate answer. in fact, his entire body suddenly becomes rigid and his relaxed posture gives way to looking awkward.

"or not?" you murmur under your breath, looking away and clearing your throat to cover up the pause. that was embarrassing.

"we were close." gojo finally says after a moment's silence. "yeah, we were pretty close, huh."

something about his words make you think it's less that he's talking to you, rather that he was talking to himself.

it was his turn to clear his throat, readjusting his facial features to look joyful again. "you have so many questions, name. i can go through each and every one of them, but after you make your decision. it'll be useless to know all this information if you're just going to die here, after all."

"let's not get ahead of ourselves here, i don't even trust you yet. what makes you think you can recover my memories?"

that same, sad smile. "i found you again, didn't i?"

gojo doesn't elaborate on his words, allowing them to sit in the air.

there was something heavy in your chest. the entire time the two of you had been speaking, you've felt it like a persistent ache. yearning might be a word to describe it, but it was stronger, more intense, an innate emotion that kept your eyes on his. somehow, you knew his eyes would be the most brilliant blue. the thought left you curious, and before you could think it through, you were already making up your decision.

"i'll do as you say." you whisper, finally.

you shove the crepe in your mouth and hum in delight as the delicious aromas of chocolate and powdered sugars surround you. the steady bustle of the cafe moves all around you and there's a kind of comfort that comes from watching the world continue, even when you yourself had stopped moving. 

gojo watches you, sipping absentmindedly at his hot chocolate, doused in chocolate syrup and wearing a heaping of whipped cream. it’s untouched and you find such a sight a rarity, though you’re not sure why. "when i said to tell me something that might recover your memory, i thought you'd say something like seeing a family member, or visiting your workplace. not go out to get a crepe."

you lick chocolate off your finger. "you must have kidnapped me before i had breakfast because all i can think about is sugar right now." 

“whatever, just hurry up. clearly, it's not doing anything for you and there’s nothing good about this place except for its crepes.”

“and god are the crepes good.” 

he makes a face at your words, chewing at his straw. 

“are you sulking?” 

“no. are you ever going to finish that crepe or do i have to jump in and help you?”

“so you are sulking.” you hold out your crepe to him, offering the dessert with a smile. “i’m sure you’ll feel better if you take a bite.”

gojo blinks before leaning forward, taking a massive chomp and chasing after a dribble of nutella as it drips out. he misses, and it lands just above his lip. 

you giggle as he licks it up. “well?”

“i guess i do feel better.” 

your laughter cuts short, crepe pausing halfway to your mouth. "that felt way too natural."

gojo doesn't say anything, pretending to take his time chewing the mouthful of crepe he stole from you. you give him a skeptical look before returning to the more important task of figuring where the next bite should be.

should you take the bite along the edge where there was less filling? it would ensure your next bite would be the best, abundant with powdered sugar, banana and nutella. or should you take the mediocre bite near the middle making your next bite similarly mediocre? before you can make up your mind, gojo's face drops down close to yours and scarfs down the entire thing.

you cry out but the damage has been done. you hadn't even noticed him standing from his seat and heading over to you.

gojo pulls back, humming appreciatively, and wipes a thumb to catch the residue on his lips. "now that i've tried it, they really are good."

"my crepe!"

"i think a strawberry crepe would go crazy right about now."

"my crepe!"

gojo gives you a funny look. "yes, i heard you the first time."

"then you'd know that i'm furious right now!" you stand up too, intending to appear intimidating. "you ate my crepe! all of it!"

"you had a few bites."

"it wasn’t enough." you growl.

a grin splits across his face. "i hear desserts taste better when they're shared."

"whoever said that was idiotic." something in his smile makes you pause. slowly, you draw your finger up and point it to your chest. "me?"

he nods.

"oh." you crumble up the napkin in your hands, the one that once held your beloved crepe, and toss it into a nearby bin. it goes in easily, and you wonder if you had been athletic before the incident. "what were we doing eating desserts together?"

looking up, gojo was already at the door.

you hurry to catch up to him. "hey! i wasn't finished talking yet!"

"i'm taking things into my own hands." he says, strolling down the sidewalk with a confidence that has you following after. "you're not going to find your memories at the end of a crepe."

"i might." you huff, settling at a comfortable pace beside him. "so? where are we headed?"

he scans the streets in silence.

it was midday, if the bright, hot sun was any indication, and a weekend at that meaning the sidewalks were busy with excited high schoolers seeking a break and partners bonding in their quality time, holding hands and giggling amongst themselves. you peek down at gojo's empty hand and wonder why you can imagine the grooves and bumps of his fingers.

"the game arcade across the road." gojo says suddenly, and you blink away the temptation. "it was your favourite."

"claw machines." you breathe out. "even without my memories i think i remember the sensation of losing my sanity to small plushies."

"looks like i made the right choice then." gojo grins down at you, stopping at a crossing. the red light flickers to green and the accompanying beeping tells you to move, but gojo stays still.

you tilt your head at him. "something wrong?"

he pauses before shaking his head. "nothing. come on, hurry up! the arcade might close before you even step inside."

"you're the one looking like a deer caught in headlights."

"do you like deers?"

"what?"

"deers. do you fancy them?"

you blink at him. "they're cute."

a smirk splits across his face. you might be imagining it, but gojo's stride is somehow bouncier, full of energy, but you find it isn't distasteful.

as you enter, you're surprised to finding no one looking at the both of you. sure, at first sight you hadn't noticed anything off about gojo's attire but after staring at him for so long, you wonder why it was that not a single person was pointing and laughing at his ugly navy outfit. it didn't help that he was tall, towering over you as he slides a coin into the machine, and that he adorned a thick blindfold over his eyes. surely, he would be a sight that garnered attention.

"gojo." you start, maneuvering the joystick over the plushie that had caught your eye. "why isn't anyone making fun of you?"

he doesn't say anything for a while as you play. "what? why would they?"

you spare his a doubtful look. "i mean, look at you."

"what does that mean? name, use your words."

"you're not very conventionally dressed." you put it lightly.

"i think this uniform looks great on me!"

the claw misses the plushie by a large margin, and you pretend you don't hear gojo laugh. gritting your teeth, you slide in your own coin and readjust the claw. "you look terrible, like you're wearing a cosplay."

"it's the jujutsu uniform, we're all made to wear it."

"damn." you mumble, paying just enough attention to reply. the small strawberry cow plush stares into your soul, telling you that this attempt would be the one to take it home. you listen to its calling, bumping the joystick towards it. "i must have looked pretty terrible in that, then."

"you looked great." a pause. "i mean, you still do."

your hand suddenly twitches, bumping into the claw and sending it down into the pit prematurely. swearing, you watch as it inevitably misses the plushie you had been eyeing and grabs a whole clawful of nothing but air.

gojo whistles. "even without your memory, you're still as terrible. i thought losing your memories would turn you to a different person, guess you're still the same terrible player i once knew."

you whip your head to look at him. "what did you say before?"

"you're shit at the game?"

"that's not what you said. and no i'm not, you just messed me up, is all."

he's wearing that irritating smirk again and you hate how attractive you find him. "i bet i could do better."

you cross your arms, stepping back. "you’re free to try.”

unfortunately, he really is good. there’s an ease in his fingers you had lacked, a type of inherent skill that allows him to grab plushie after keychain after more plushies. at the end of it, your arms are full of every stuffed toy you could ever want, and every machine has been touched by his talented hands at least once. face framed by the heads of all of gojo’s wins, you glare at him. it pisses you off.

“whatever.” you say.

“so, still think you’re better?” gojo dangles two keychains around his finger, the sanrio characters bumping into each other as they spun. your eyes track the movement. 

“fine, you can have this win. i won’t uncover whatever cheat you used to get so many.” 

“you still can’t admit when you’ve lost.”

you huff, looking away. “i didn’t lose.” you say, but it doesn’t manage to convince even yourself. 

something flies at you and instinct has you stretching out your arms, balancing the plushies using the bend of your elbow, catching the small object easily. when you open up your palm, the small sanrio keychain stares up at you with black, beady eyes. 

you flash gojo a look and find him holding up his own keychain, the sanrio characters wearing matching sailor outfits. even though your arms are full of prizes, the tiny keychain feels the heaviest in your hands. “what’s up with you? haven’t you given me enough already?” a smile threatens to escape, but you bite down on your lip. 

gojo shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. “they’re matching.” he says, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. “my students would make fun of me if i came back with these. so i’ll just give this one to you.” 

warmth overflows in you and you laugh. “looks like you still can’t admit to being cheesy.”

he doesn’t join in and your chuckles trail off, somewhat uncertain. worried that you had offended him, you sneak a peek at his expression and find him looking strangely perplexed.

something was dawning on you, and it was dawning quickly, threatening to ram into your mind and dump three years worth of memories into your brain, him in the centre of it all.

before you can breathe out the conclusion you’ve reached, the glass window at the front of the arcade shatters, and your body dodges to the side just as something flies out at you. unlike what gojo had thrown at you moments ago, this was a less appreciated move. 

gojo hisses out a curse, reaching out to grab your hand. “we need to go.” 

there’s a sense of urgency in his voice you don’t dare to disobey, so you quickly push your pile of plushies into the arm of a confused bystander, ensuring the single sanrio keychain remains in your pocket. “what’s going on?” you ask over the chaos. 

“i lied.”

“what?”

the two of you dance around the aisles, avoiding the window as much as possible. at the off chance you’re able to glance out past the shattered glass, you make out a dark figure crouched on a building opposite to the arcade, a small red light shining from their position. customers had gathered around the front, whispering amongst themselves and you feel a spike of danger. “gojo, we need to help!”

“they’re after you, name. and jujutsu techniques won’t hurt non-jujutsu citizens, the only person you should worry about is yourself.” gojo clarifies, dragging you out into the street. “they want you dead.”

his hand squeezes yours in emphasis and you wonder why it felt so natural to squeeze back. instead of bringing it up, you say, “but i thought i had time! i thought i just needed to remember…”

gojo drags you into another building, free hand pulling out a phone. “damnit.” he was muttering to himself. “they weren’t meant to realise i broke you out so quick.” 

it falls into place in an instant. the jujutsu society had never intended to give you a chance, your execution was determined the moment your body was brought to that small, ominous room, your fate sealed when the door closed shut behind you. but gojo had other plans. he had taken you out, given you one more day with him.

and then what? you wonder. what were you to him that he would go to such lengths and betray those higher? this wasn’t the time to confront your newfound memories, but you do so anyway, squeezing your eyes shut as gojo leads you further in, embracing the rush of comfort you feel as your cursed technique loosens its grip on your soul and you remember.

three years flash past your eyes, of late night slumber parties in getou’s room watching horror movies tucked under his doona, of convenience store icecream and breaking icepoles apart perfectly, of one summer night where gojo had pulled you aside, awkwardly confessing one day early simply because you had looked so pretty under the moonlight, and the teasing cheers shoko and getou had echoed when you rejoined them. the memories come faster now, and every single one is with him. 

until they don’t, until it all halts and ends in a room covered in blood. 

you gasp painfully, pulling your hand back from his to clasp at your head. you're whole again, ambitions, love, memories and all.

gojo pauses almost immediately, looking back at you with concern. “name? hey! name, what’s wrong?” 

“satoru.” you seek comfort in his name, and relish in the familiarity of saying his name. “i think i—”

he catches you as you stumble forward though there’s no time to stand around because the both of you sense your pursuers hot on your heels. you tune your technique to the employees within the office building and skim through their memories. the layout of the block sketches out across your mind, and you grab onto gojo’s hand, ignoring his words of concern as you pull him towards where you know there will be less people. “i’m fine, but not for long if we stay here. this way.”

you drag gojo around the corner, and find yourself staring at a dead end. panicked, you glance around for anything, really anything that you could hide behind, and find nothing.

"name—"

your eyes catch a door and with relief, you rush over. "satoru, in here!" he follows wordlessly, entering the storage cupboard with only the slightest hesitation, and watches as you wiggle in yourself, slamming the door behind you.

his breath tickles your forehead and you lean into his chest, telling yourself that you didn't want to be pressed against the door if it is ever thrown open by your pursuers.

gojo breathes out your name again, low so as to avoid being heard from anyone but you. “back up a little.”

“sorry.” you mumble into his chest, but there’s little space to step back.

even though he had told you to place distance between the two of you, his arm hovers on your lower back, and he clears his throat before saying, “you’re calling me satoru again.” 

you curse him. “is this the right time to be talking about this?” you glance over your shoulder to try and sense your pursuers but gojo grabs your chin, turning it back to face him.

"forget about that, look at me."

"i'm looking and let me tell you i am not impressed." you shake off his hold. "we can reunite later, right now we need to—"

"i missed you."

you almost break your neck spinning around.

your lips quiver, struggling to hold back a stupid smile. "are you serious right now? you're doing this here?"

“well.” gojo starts. something in his voice makes you look at him, look at him properly. you can’t make out the direction of his gaze past the blindfold, but you’re suddenly conscious of his lips as they part to speak. you watch as his tongue sweeps his bottom lip, out of nerves perhaps, and maybe he’s watching you just as intently because they stretch into a smirk. 

you aren’t able to revel in the sight because his lips crash onto yours in an instant, and instincts take over to reciprocate the kiss. gojo’s hand finds purchase in your hair, fingers tangled in your strands, and his other tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer. you can only vaguely feel this happen, too immersed in the feeling of his lips and tongue against yours. you press up against his chest and run your hands up his nape just the way he’s admitted to liking before. 

he tries to utter your name but it’s swallowed up by a groan. there’s a hunger in you that you doubt could be fulfilled today, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. 

you yelp as his tongue sweeps a sensitive spot in your mouth, and you almost whine when you feel him pull back, slightly. 

“sorry, are you sure you remember—” gojo starts, and you see his frown through bleary eyes.

you don’t let him finish, reaching up to continue the kiss, muttering a quick “please” in hopes that he will understand your need. he pulls you closer, parting your legs with his knees. 

when the two of you break away, you’re panting for air.

gojo tenderly brushes a strand of hair from your face. “does this mean you remember me?” he asks, voice hoarse, lips swollen, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

you resist the urge to kiss him stupid, and laugh instead. “would i  have kissed you otherwise? of course i remember.” the memories were overwhelming you still, and the emotions you feel carry over until the present you feels it too, smiling up at him like a lunatic.

he’s beaming from ear to ear, and you think he might go in for another kiss, but he drops his head onto your shoulder instead. “you don’t know how annoyed i am at you.”

running your hands through his hair, you hum. “why’s that?”

“you left me! and the worst way possible too, you know i still have trauma from getou.” 

“i had no choice.” 

“you could have taken me with you.” 

you fiddle with his ear. “your future’s too bright. you could, well, can, do better than wherever i shackle you to. i couldn’t drag you down with me. and hey, you found me anyway.” 

gojo straightens. “right, and now we’re being chased by some of the best jujutsu sorcerers and they want my lover dead.”

“i have you, aren’t you the strongest?” 

he lets that compliment settle on his shoulders before shaking his head. “i’m trying to tell you that you made a mistake. don’t you feel even the slightest remorse for leaving me?” 

you go on your tip-toes to give him a quick peck, but nothing that’ll last any longer. “of course i do, that’s why i left you the address to my apartment. but this is just the start, you know it too.” even now, you can feel the persistent cling of someone's cursed energy seeking you out.

he follows you after you pull back, and you should have none something like a peck wouldn't be enough to satisfy his longing.

gojo slides his hand into yours, and gives it a painful squeeze. pulling you close, he presses his lips fiercely against yours again, pushing past your weak defenses to savour you completely. it's hopeless, this kiss, all desperation and sorrow, and you taste your own regret in his mouth. but it can't change anything, no matter how hard he grips your cheek, no matter how painful he imprints his mouth against yours.

it's hopeless.

"satoru, you need to let me go." you mumble into the kiss, feeling his will break in your arms. 

your lips part with a pop and when he looks at you it's clear he's annoyed. "again."

"yeah, again."

"you have to understand why i don't want to do that, name." he says through gritted teeth. as if to emphasise, his fingers dig deeper into your wrists.

the sounds of footsteps thud faster, and the sensation of someone’s cursed energy radiates throughout the entire building, overwhelming and threatening you to come out. you didn’t sense anyone in the corridor yet, but that won't always be the case, it was only a matter of time, so you wriggle out of his hold, intent on running.

he catches your hand again, still frowning. "name."

"satoru, i'll find you, i promise."

he doesn't answer, his expression says enough.

you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, having been already raw from before , feeling your own reluctance to part like a throbbing ache. but if a little heartbreak was enough to stop your ambitions, you wouldn't have killed that first person way back when. “i'm going to kick down the door." you say.

gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head shortly after. "you never stop and listen to me."

"maybe give me advice i'd take and i will." you smile to show there's no hard feelings.

he chuckles humourlessly and runs a hand through his hair, "fine, we'll do it your way. just like we always do then?"

"of course."

your countdown doesn’t come out as enthusiastic as it could have, but your body moves as you utter “three”, kicking open the door and rushing out. the door slams into the face of a sorcerer, and you wince at the sound. 

gojo walks around, holding off another pursuer. he glances back at you, reluctance obvious. “hurry.” he says, and you wonder if the urgency is due to the onslaught of sorcerers or from the thinning of his patience and his desire to chase after you. 

you give him a smile because you know the answer. running to the exit, you give him one last glance and find him staring. you reach into your pocket and pull out the keychain he’d won from you earlier, and bring it to your lips. 

“i’ll find you this time.” you mouth. 

giving up, gojo nods and turns back to deal with the attackers.

you leave him as you did the day society had forced your hand, though this time with your memories in tact. if that was the case, finding each other again would be an easy task.

you let your heart be comforted by this thought as you run. 

a/n: we almost dodged the angst ending and it would have ended with "just like we used to :smirk:?" "just like we used to... heh"

[dzpenumbra]

2/19/23

Good lord, what a rollercoaster of a 36 hour period. 5-6 hours of attempted resolution today. Not even kidding. Started it on the yoga mat, like lying down with my earbuds in and I get the call and I'm laying on my back just trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. It was literally right out of morning meditation and into a super tense conversation with my panicking mom.

My mom and I found middle ground - again, I can't even remember how. I hate that. I have no idea why, it's obviously really goddamn important. But it went all over the map today. From that whole age-old lecture about how I don't "create enough value for others" which is why my career is non-existent. Right. I literally make jewelry. And a synonym for jewelry is... "valuables". But yeah, I don't create enough "value". Seems like a polite way to say "you make crap, get better."

Like, for real. How fucking deeply can you insult me to my face? HOW am I not creating value? I am creating valuable things regardless of whether people are purchasing them or not. I am constantly trying to improve and refine my skills. I am never satisfied with my level of quality, and am constantly trying to push my limits to the next level. I am eager and excited (if not a bit intimidated and super anxious from lack of practice) to work directly with people who are interested in what I do, what I have a passion in, to make something within my skill abilities that is specifically catered to them. The value exists. My skill exists. We agreed on those points. But what she seems very dead-set to insist upon... is that because no one else on this planet values my work - which, of course, is the one thing I can't control: whether people like me - it is somehow my responsibility to convince others of my value. ... Like my work doesn't speak for itself. Like... what am I... an influencer? I have to go around telling people how hot shit I am?

I can't fucking tell you how many times I've heard this. Hundreds of times. The same tired narrative. And every time, "you're very skilled, you're very talented, but you're not creating enough value for society." Bitch, society isn't valuing me. They don't want my contributions. They don't want the local restaurant, they want the fast food chain. They don't want the small mom and pop coffee shop that they never see anyone else go into that has no fucking reviews because the owner has PTSD and doesn't have any friends. They want Starbucks.

And, again, I get punished by having shitty friends, then... years later... get punished for the effects of having had shitty friends. And for being humble. And staying true to my values.

And again, I get this whole "we're tired of supporting you" thing. And I found a way to really elaborate, and not for the first time, but very clearly and underlining it for her... "you may finance me, but I don't think you've ever believed in me. I don't think you truly believe I will succeed at any of the things I do. I don't really think anyone in my life has. Despite my talent, despite my devotion. You don't support me, you barely tolerate me." It's so hard to say something that is at it's core... it sounds derogatory. But it's 100% accurate to the situation. It sounds like I'm talking shit, like I'm making a false accusation. Because in fictional stories - books, TV shows, shit like that - that kind of accusation is typically presented as baseless. But in my case, it's completely accurate. I don't think anyone in my family really believes that my book is going to be published - though they could easily afford to help with that, and likely have connections to get it published and distributed quite easily. But they can't envision my success. They don't use their mind's eye to picture these things, they use it to envision me taking advantage of them, having them pay my rent while I just milk this free ride as long as I can. Right? Then why the fuck am I working? Why am I making things? Why do I have goals? Why am I not on a yacht in Cabo San Lucas getting shitfaced and banging a bunch of models? XD

The worst part? If this lack of faith in me, lack of support, lack of belief... if that wasn't present? I'd would have gotten so much more done. I have had to spend so much time recovering and in therapy from this constant suspicion and punishment. Good lord. Years, man. All because I adamantly, zealously, will. not. give. up. my. dream. Because I will not fucking quit. I will not give the fuck up and just go do something easier. And that is perceived not as commitment to my craft, not as passion, not as staying strong and true to myself and resisting peer pressure. It's perceived as being privileged and spoiled.

It hurts very deeply. I have committed so much to just minding my own business, not asking for any more than I need, making huge sacrifices. --- I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm getting a huge reflex that people are just going to compare their situation to mine and tear me down. Because that's what people do. Someone always has it worse, and they want to bring everyone down to the lowest common denominator, not lift each other up to their best potential. They don't want to support and encourage each other to pursue their passions, and help facilitate that. They want to point fingers and shame each other that we're all not "grateful" enough for the things we have, and because of that... somehow... that equates to... not using those assets to pursue our passions? I don't understand at all. None of this shit makes sense to me, and ultimately, I don't really care and you can all fuck off. :D

I am very open to pursuing a wide variety of careers in tandem with my current work, in fact... my work is specifically designed to be malleable and fit into a wide variety of fields. My art spans everything from math, to anatomy, to ancient history, to spirituality, to archaeology, to geology, to music theory, to psychology, to computer science. And tons of places in between. All of these careers get touched by my work, and I can gladly and easily incorporate my work into all of those. But I rarely get any kind of engagement on like... how to hybridize what I do with other local connections. How to fuse them, to connect me and what I do with the community. And, setting my own hours and being freelance, that should be super fucking easy. But... nope. The demands I get made of me? Give up this dream for 5-10 years, go work at literally any place full-time to make a bunch of money (as much as I can) to get my super unhealthy family off my back, then pick up where I left off then. Over and over I get this advice.

And trust me, I get it. It's the... "if you're a refugee, you can't really be thinking about your future, you need to be thinking about your present" kinda mentality, right? It's survival. They see my sunken eyes, my strained face, my exhaustion, my disorientation, my defeat, my pain, the thousand yard stare. Here, I'll show you, if I can find it. One second.

There. That's what 4 years of war and a stint in a concentration camp does to someone. It's a dramatic example, I'm clearly not that bad. But it's visibly and... emotionally noticeable when I have been mistreated. I was reflecting on that earlier. How I think what happened in my therapy session, which has happened with 2 other therapists who have never met this new guy before... was kinda created by me. I think my honest emotional expressions, my wearing my shattered heart on my sleeve, sent them all in the same protective mode. "Do anything to get him out of this situation, even if it means telling him to temporarily walk away from his dream. It's just for a few years."

And, for me... having walked away from it before and getting physically ill? I don't see it as an option. Either the thing I walk away to is something I love and cherish, something that brings me bliss, or I bring my work with me and find a job that hybridizes. I need to at least try. Otherwise? I'm not doing the best I can.

But... if I don't have a choice in the matter? And this land really is not free, it's not a place where people are free to choose their own life, and pursue their bliss... if it's a place where you conform and you take whatever the fuck scraps you can get? Well... if that's just the situation I'm in? Who am I to fight reality? XD I think the analogy I used with my therapist was "What am I going to do, fight the wind?" I just thought being a fine artist was actually a thing people still wanted. Maybe my work isn't political enough... XD Maybe I should've made offensive political cartoons for Boomers to blast all over Facebook! XD

Well, good news. Somehow, again I don't remember how, we found an understanding. And I really spelled out to my mom - I understand your concerns, but you are not seeing how this car situation affects me. I am brand new to a city where I know no one. I have never lived in a city before, I am a shut-in with PTSD. The extreme isolation and systematic mistreatment by people close to me has made even simple human interactions like passing people in the hallways or picking up take-out or going to the grocery store very difficult. There are some days that are okay, where my confidence is recharged and I feel much better... but it's been especially bad since my cat died and I've been completely alone. Which I absolutely predicted, it's the reason why I got on Betterhelp and linked up with the therapist I'm with now.

So... I somehow managed --- let me explain how, actually. I managed to get her to understand what my life looks like by using Google Maps. Pretty smart, yeah? I went "look, right now my plan is to get rid of this rental car, because... duh... and then I'm just going to use public transit. It scares the shit out of me, because the only sketchy people I see in town are lurking around bus stops and I have no friends and will be going everywhere alone... but I don't really have much choice here. The alternative is this thing that's like $15/mo and it's a community car? That you can reserve and use whenever you need it if it's available. But that will not be something I can use to take to work every day, you know? But I can definitely use it to visit my nephew and my brother and sister in law." And I showed her on the map where my apartment building is, where the yoga studio I was going to go to nearby is, where the board game shop I'm still too anxious to go and visit is, and where the shared car is located - about a mile away. And I tried to get her to kinda... walk the road with me... This road I am very familiar with, I took that road to go to the vet a bunch of times, so I know how far it is. It's... decently far. And the neighborhood it goes through? I have no idea if it's a good neighborhood or not. Dead honest. I can't tell. And once I really started vividly painting this picture for her, she started actually insisting on getting me a vehicle.

I'm still on the fence about getting one. And I made it very clear why. Before you say, like my old therapist before you, "dude, don't be stupid, take the offer before she pulls it away." I am worried about this new car, likely a lease, to suffer the same fate as my old one. For me to be in "voluntary lockdown" because I'm having a bad mental health season... and then the car just starts eroding and falling apart because of neglect. This has been a very real problem for me. Much less so in the summer, because I'm always out in nature in the summer. But in the winter, my cars get fuuuucked uuuuup. Last winter, before this one, my landlords made me park in a puddle, and my rear right tire sank into the mud and deflated due to... never being driven... and then - I shit you not - the tire froze solid into the ground. And the battery died, to boot. I was stranded for like over 2 weeks, I had to call AAA after the ground thawed, and the dude was like... lecturing me as he was fixing the car up. It was humiliating. It was really not cool.

So... I'm really shaken up about that, and I voiced those concerns to my mom very directly. I am concerned that I will have this chore of taking the car out regularly. That "if I don't, there will be consequences" blade swinging over my neck. And, if it's one thing I've learned about PTSD and motivators... at least with me... it's that negative motivation aka the threat of punishment or consequence... it will cause me to completely shut down. It guarantees that I will not get that task done. I will freeze, and freak out, and get upset, and want to run away, and maybe try to haggle or barter or something? I don't know. It will make something not that big of a deal - go to the grocery store - into "If you don't go to the grocery store, something really fucking bad will happen to you". And it rattles me.

This realization has been a huge breakthrough for me. It opened a whole new way of addressing these difficult situations I run into on a regular basis, and this new way has been tremendously effective. Let me put it this way. If I'm leaving the house for a vet visit, or a doctor's appointment, or to go somewhere where if I fuck it up there will be big negative consequences... it takes a titanic amount of confidence and push to get me out that door. I will not miss appointments, I never do, but it's like... a full day or more of pumping up my confidence, building momentum, setting like 3 alarms to make sure I'm ready, then getting the ball rolling and throwing everything I've got at it. And when it's over, I feel like I ran a fucking marathon. I can do it, yes, but I mean... to put it in skateboarding terms? It's like me trying to ollie a 7-stair right now. The biggest thing I've ollied is a 4-stair. That's almost twice that. Now, let me be clear, I have confidence that I am capable of ollying that 7-stair without hurting myself. I think I physically am capable of doing it. HOWEVER... it's going to be a lot safer and smarter for me to do it level-headed than to just get a shit ton of adrenaline and hype going and then just throw myself off of it and pray for the best. And on a time crunch? Hype is the only way, there's no time for building up to it, there's no time for practice.

And what I've learned... is that the consequences in this situation? The consequences add the extra 3 stairs. Going to the grocery store is only 4 stairs. "Go to the grocery store or else you're going to starve" is 7 stairs. The mind-game of it is the extra difficulty. If this analogy isn't working for you, this one worked for my mom. I used to struggle to get my dog out on walks, because I would catastrophize. I would add all this extra pressure and consequence - "If I don't do it, she's going to fall out of shape and be really depressed and get sick", "I might run into other dogs and it could get stressful", etc. etc. - and it would take the 4-stair of "dog walk" and turn it into... that narrative, that obstacle to overcome, the 7-stair.

By the way, stand at the top of a 7-set and just imagine running at speed and jumping down the whole thing one day, if you can't relate to what I'm saying. Then do the same thing at a 4-set. You should get it pretty quickly, I hope. 3-stairs makes a big difference for me, at my ability level.

So... my way of hacking this? For my dog, at least? Turn walks into something I look forward to. Adventures. "Today, we're going to the river and looking for this kind of rock". "Today, we're going to go rejuvenate this section of a stream, and pup is going to explore." "Today, me and my therapist are going to go hiking on this old cross country ski trail." Things I was excited to do. Eager to do. The consequence was still there, the catastrophe was still looming and present, but it didn't have center stage. There was something fun and exciting to out-balance that negative reinforcement.

So I really tried to stress that to my mom. If I have a reason to go and do things regularly, weekly, every other day... like... a girlfriend... or friends to hang out with... or a skatepark to go to... or a forest and trail system to explore... stuff like that. Stuff I am excited to go and do. Then the giant swinging blade over my neck of punishment is waaay more manageable. Sword of Damocles, that's what that blade over my neck thing is... I have been referencing this for like 3 days straight now and going "I know it's something from a long time ago, I just don't remember what specifically it is..." I don't know if it's a fully applicable analogy, but it fits for now. When I have support and help, positive motivations to take the forefront and outbalance the negatives, it doesn't eliminate the risks, of course... but... it sure as fuck evens the odds, and in my favor too. And that allows my survival instincts, my sympathetic nervous system, to... chill. And it makes that task easier to accomplish. Then all I need to do is go to the grocery store and get food, not avoid utter catastrophe. It may seem subtle, but for me, it can mean the difference between a normal functional life and utter ruin.

It sucks that I need the good reward part in order to counteract the fears, but... that's just where I'm at now. And it works. So... explaining that... I think helped? I guess we'll see.

Because we started to look for electric cars. I said they seem like they're actually getting much cheaper, and I have a charger in my parking lot... so... why wouldn't I? Worth at least looking into. This one I'm looking at can hold a charge of like... 280 miles? One one charge? That shit is crazy to me. And I floated the idea of Doordash or Instacart to like... get me out of the house more... and she seemed on board with that. I hope it works for me, I'm thinking it could be a good way to get to know the area, and especially to get exposed to new music and practice singing, which I can't really do in my home.

So yeah, no clue where all this is going to go... if this is just a calm in the storm... but like... I can at least get rid of the rental car and all the ruin that fucking car dealership brought to my family. And I feel more understood now. And I have more options. So... that's helpful.

What still perplexes me... is how every time a problem comes up. "We need to talk about solutions for your rental car problem, that I postponed because of my work's quarterly reports that went out a week and a half ago." How that, within an hour, turns into me needing to quit my career and get some random job to pay the bills. No... I understand that. It's not perplexing, I just didn't want to think about it. It's because I'm being abused. Yeah. And my therapists are trying to save me. But... if I give up my purpose on this planet, is it really saving me?

And before you call that melodramatic, let's find a compromise. How about these people, instead of saying "go get any job to make money, do your art shit on the weekends." How about they try "we need to brainstorm ways to use your skills and talents to generate income, where can we get you plugged in where you're not going to need a resume?" How about people get me on TaskRabbit (is that still a thing?), or walking dogs for people, or something like that? I really just want someone to take a chunk of time and sit down and help me find something I want to do, that moves my life forward in a deliberate direction towards my goals. Not just something to make money.

I'm so beyond exhausted from talking about this. Fuck me. Wanna know the funny part? I was originally a poet, who compromised to become a musician, who compromised to become a fine artist. Art was my safety school. And apparently the world doesn't want any of those... XD Ughhh!

For fucks' sake, why can't I just go around to thrift shops and buy weird creepy paintings and sell them on Etsy as haunted paintings with elaborate made up backstories? Come the fuck on, that would be such a fun life!

I need to stop typing and go to bed, my chest has been aching in... unique ways all day today. I really need to like... tone down the stress. So I'm gonna see if I can get into nature sometime in the next few days. I miss Mother Nature a lot.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Like, is the gist "Real life pedophilia/incest/rape is bad, and stories saying these things are good are bad, but including these topics in a story isn't inherently bad, so the people being like 'hey, maybe Ao3 shouldn't have so much kiddie porn there's an entire category called "Underage"' are just overreacting and making things worse?" Because it feels like you're saying, "your negative reaction to this stuff is valid, but also you're annoying and prudish and bad and really you aren't valid."

So here’s the thing: it really does not sound like you're asking this question because you want my answer, it sounds like you want to be angry with me and have a fight. And fair enough! I'm not terribly interested in a fight, but apparently this is my day to dive into this topic as thoughtfully and honestly as I can be. Maybe I'll say something you haven't already heard from other people before. Maybe not! Only you, anonymous asker, know that.

To begin with, you got part of the gist right. Real life rape (including child abuse/child sexual abuse as well as incest) is bad. Stories about rape, about underage sex, and about incest, are stories.

They're stories. They're pixels on a screen. They're not real. Whether they claim that rape is good, or bad, or sexy, or melodramatic, or life-destroying, or a normal Tuesday afternoon. They're stories.

And having a negative reaction to them is valid. Stories can stir up powerful emotions in people. It is absolutely, 100%, fair and valid and even normal for there to be certain tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that make you upset and that you never want to see in a story you read, ever. You don't have to want to read about sex. You don't have to want to read any of it. That doesn't make you bad.

There are tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that upset me. There are stories I won't read. The same is true of literally everyone else I know. Even though I know the stories aren't real. Even though I know the things happening in them are happening to fictional characters, who do not exist, who I cannot protect and who also cannot be harmed because they're not real. Even then, I can be made sad and scared and upset and hurt by reading those stories. And that is okay and that is valid and I am not bad or wrong for being upset about the story I've read, and neither are you.

But that doesn't mean the story doesn't have value to somebody else. That doesn't mean the story isn't important to somebody else.

What I see most often coming from antis, possibly even including yourself, is an overwhelming desire to protect. They want to keep themselves and others--possibly people they know, possibly hypothetical people they may never meet--safe from being hurt by these stories. And that desire to protect, also, is normal. It's even admirable! The problem, though, the thing that does more harm than good, is when that desire to protect drives people to lash out against things that matter to other people.

There is a difference between actual rape and stories about rape. There is a difference between a story that could theoretically hurt somebody, someday (which is all stories, always), and a story that hurts you personally. And there is a difference between a story that hurts you personally, and a story that is inherently poisonous to everyone who touches it.

We know--absolutely, scientifically, incontrovertibly--that stories about rape do not make people rapists. Yes, even the stories where the rape is there to be sexy. Even stories where the person being raped is a child. Even then. Fiction is not the same thing as normalization; again, there are far smarter people who have written far more extensively on that topic than I, and next time I come across something that goes more into detail on this point I promise I will reblog it. If this really is the thing you're afraid of, I may not be the right person to convince you that this is an unfounded fear, but I know someone out there can elaborate on it.

(Unfounded, which is not the same thing as invalid. My mother's claustrophobia is unfounded; it flares up in many situations where there's no physical threat whatsoever, where she has plenty of space to move and air to breathe. It's still real. It still chokes her. It's still valid, she is not bad or broken to feel that way, and she still can't drive through certain tunnels. The fear is real. But the thing she's afraid of can't physically hurt her, and that is worth knowing in terms of how she deals with it.)

We know, absolutely, scientifically, and incontrovertibly, that stories about rape and many, many, many other things can hurt and even traumatize their readers. Even though the situation you're reacting to is not real and you receive no physical injury, you can still be hurt by it. The key word there, though, is readers. The fact that the horror genre is out there terrifying people who enjoy being terrified for fun does not damage me unless I do something stupid and try listening to the Magnus Archives again and end up tense and miserable and paranoid for the rest of the week. The fact that guacamole is apparently delicious to everybody else in the world does not hurt me unless I do something stupid and order the wrong thing at a restaurant, and end up itchy and miserable with a little trouble breathing for the rest of the night.

The fact that there are, yes, tens of thousands of fics on AO3 in which characters under the age of 18 have sex? It can't hurt you. Those fics do not hurt you by existing. They can only hurt you if you read them. They can only hurt anyone who reads them. That's why there is an 'Underage' tag--and it's worth noting, 'Underage' is a warning, not a category. Nobody wants you to get hurt reading the wrong fic, any more than the sushi chef wants my throat to swell up because I ordered something with avocado. Literally nobody wants that.

The flip side, of course, is that you hating each and every one of those fics individually and as a group doesn't actually hurt me, or anyone else who writes, reads, or enjoys them. By itself. You can hate anything you like, and fic writers can write anything they like, and it all comes out in the end, more or less. Except.

Except that reading fic is always, entirely, 100% opt-in, and online harassment isn't even opt-out. Some antis have a nasty habit of going after writers whose content they don't like; climbing into inboxes and comments sections, calling those writers nasty names, throwing around cruelties and aggression and insults. I know that's not the same thing as simply disliking a genre, or even passively disagreeing with its existence (although disliking a genre and disagreeing with its right to exist are also very different things). I know not all antis do that. I don't know you, anon, but based on the speed and aggressiveness of this response to my last post, I can't help but wonder if you would do that.

And that does hurt people. Just like it might hurt you if someone threw a bunch of content that makes you uncomfortable into your inbox. Including the harasser, actually--because getting into fights with strangers on the internet about things that make you angry, sad, defensive, and upset isn't good for anybody. Including both you and me.

Anyway, after yet another lengthy ramble, let's get the tl;dr response to your ask here: nobody is ever bad or wrong for disliking certain content in their stories, no matter what that content is. You and your emotions are valid. The "overreacting and making things worse" part isn't about what you feel, but what you do with it. Constantly engaging with places where the thing that upsets you will probably show up, even to argue and try to fight it, will make things worse in the sense that now you're spending way more time thinking about this thing that makes you upset and angry, thereby leaving you more upset and angry. Getting together with a bunch of your upset, angry friends to make your feelings everybody else's problem? Makes fandom a more toxic place for everyone else involved.

Don't read stuff that's going to hurt you. Don't make other people read stuff that's going to hurt them. That's the whole thing, really.

[jaycewrites-192000]

You're Grounded Pt. 2

Summery: Smiley and Angry's little sister is still grounded, only this time...things go differently.

Part One Here

Rating: SFW

Pairing(s): Platonic!Nahoya Kawata x Platonic!Little Sister Reader x Platonic!Souya Kawata

(Still no incest my dudes)

Also spoilers for episode 20-21!!

One week had passed, and ever since you were stuck in your room, only allowed to come out to go to school, to eat, and bathroom breaks. Other than that, no luck getting out from your little prison. And you were warned to not sneak out again, or another week would be added. You didn't bother trying, as much as you hate to admit it, your brothers were smarter than they looked. They knew every move you would make and would do everything in their power to stop you.

However, you were allowed to have your phone back. They were s confident that if you were to try and call for backup, they would stop it from happening. You made the best of it though, at least you had someone to talk to now. Emma wanted an explanation as to where you had disappeared to lately and you told her you were grounded, well, double grounded now. When she asked why, you hesitated to tell her. But you did, after she promised not to tell Smiley and Angry of course. She did say that you should tell them why you started that fight in the first place, but...it was a bit more complicated than that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So, here you were, in your room looking blankly at your door. Every now and then Smiley or Angry, or both of them, would come and check to see if you were still there. Speaking of, your door opened, Angry walked in this time. "Right on time, big brother." You mutter, not bothering to look at him. "Smiley had to run out somewhere real quick. So, I'm gonna stay here until he gets back." He leans against the door after he shut it.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. The silence between you two was heavy with tension and awkwardness.

"...Sorry about before. But you really shouldn't have tricked us like that." You didn't respond. "Come on. You're acting childish."

"I am a child dummy. And so are you, so stop acting like your our mother." You glared at him. "Oh, and you wanna talk being childish? You two get into fights every fucking day, and you two rarely ever get punished for it! So how come I get double grounded!?"

"You get double grounded for sneaking out. And you shouldn't be getting into fights at all. As for us, it's different." Angry explained as calmly as he could. "That's bullshit and you know it!" You snapped. "You wouldn't be saying any of this if I were in the same gang as you two!"

"You won't be joining any gangs of any kind!" Angry finally snapped back. It was rare that he would ever raise his voice at you, so you were at a loss for words. Once he saw your shocked face he toned it down. "Just...don't do it again. Please Y/n, you shouldn't be fighting."

And then came more silence. You and Angry never liked whenever there would be a fight between all three of you. But tension had build up ever since you got into that stupid fight. And honestly, you knew that it didn't need to happen but after what happened...after what those jackasses said...What choice did you have?

"Why did you do it anyway?" Angry asks, making you look up from your bed. You opened your mouth to answer, but shut it before looking away again. "Does it really matter?" You asked. "It's done. Nothing I can do about it now."

Before Angry could respond, Smiley walked in. "Heeey, she try to get out again?" He asked. "No..." Angry shook his head. "But she's hiding something." You shot him a glare. "Oh, so we're telling lies now?"

"I don't know, are we?" Angry turned to his brother. "When has Y/n ever started a fight? She rarely gets into fights, and normally she isn't the one to start some shit." Smiley nods his head at his brother's words. "That's a good point. So, wanna talk to us like a big girl?"

"No. Get out." You tell them sternly. "Too bad!" Smiley hopped on your bed and sat beside you. "Better start talking sis."

"Or what?" You challenged. Smiley's grin deepened. "Or else your double grounding will turn into a triple grounding." He tells you. "What!? How's that fair!?" Smiley shrugs. "Just is. Now spill." You resisted the urge to slug your annoying peach hair older brother in the jaw before sighing heavily. "You really wanna know? Fine. I started that fight because some asshole was talking shit about you two! Happy?"

Smiley and Angry looked at each other before turning back to you. "You started a fight because of that?" Angry asks. You furrow your brow in frustration. "It's more than that...they called you guys a smiling freak and a whinny crybaby. They also talked shit about Toman. And when I confronted them about it...they said I couldn't do a thing without my brothers there to protect me...that I was just a weak little girl who needed to stay out of other's way...So, I punched their lights out." You didn't notice you were crying until the end of it.

"I wouldn't have hit them if they would have just apologized and kept their mouths shut." You say with a sniffle. It was quiet until Smiley started laughing. "Man! You went and defended ours and Toman's honor? You really are the best little sister." He pets your head. "Huh?" You look up at him confused. "That was nice of you Y/n, but you didn't need to get hurt over us." Angry made his way over to you.

"W-well they were hurt way more than me." You told him. "I handled it didn't I?"

"Yes but, still. You're safety matters to us way more than a few insults thrown at us. Next time that happens, tell us."

"Yeah! We'll beat the fuck out of them so you don't get in trouble like you did." Smiley added. "Don't be like your dumbass older brothers Y/n. You're going places you know? Don't waste it on fighting like a gangster."

"But you guys are in a gang..." You mutter. "Don't get any ideas Y/n." Said Smiley, despite his smile, he was serious. "We wouldn't know what to do if you were hurt or worse. Just be our tough little sis outside of a gang ok?" You pout slightly but nod anyway. You did consider joining Toman, somehow. Your brothers inspired you in more than one way, and being in a gang was one of them. Not just any gang, a real gang. "The new age of delinquents" as Mikey put it.

It sounded so cool when you heard about it, and you wanted so desperately to be by your brothers side when it finally happens. But it wasn't always cool and badass, after Darken nearly dying and Baji's death, it dawned on you just how dangerous joining a gang could be. And Smiley and Angry be damned if they let their little sister be murdered and they couldn't prevent it.

You didn't know Draken and Baji on a personal level like everyone else in Touman did, but they were so kind to you whenever you were around. Baji even joked that you were like Toman's little sister. His death left a hole in the hearts of Toman, including yours...

"I won't get into anymore fights, but you guys have to promise me something too." Smiley and Angry waited for your word. "Promise me...that you'll be careful and promise me, you guys won't leave us like Baji did..."

The next thing you knew, your brothers were enveloping you in their embrace. "And leave you all alone? No way in hell." Smiley said softly. "We're not going anywhere." Said Angry. You sniffled but managed to smile. "Good. I might say I don't want you around, but you guys are all I got. So ignore me whenever I might say it again, ok?"

"Sure thing." Smiley chuckled. "Oh by the way, you're ungrounded."

You perk up. "Double ungrounded?"

"Yep. Double ungrounded. But you better not go start shit with anyone again, got it?"

"Got it." You giggle.

"Good. Now let's get out of here. I bet you're bored right?" Smiley asked as the three of you left your room. "Bored as fuck."

"There's a new arcade that just opened up. Should we go there?" Angry asked. " Hell yeah!" You and Smiley say in unison.

You still have no idea how you got so lucky as to get ungrounded like you did, but you had a feeling your brothers were never going to punish you as harshly as they did before.

Maybe...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(So I was thinking of making like a little kawata sister series? Idk how well that would play out or how it will be done/written but yeah, stay tuned if that interests you)

[rosenlily-aka-choconut]

“M’lady, the innkeep asked me to give this to you.” Podrick handed her a shabbily sealed piece of parchment, no sigil nor name to reveal the identity of the sender. “It arrived this morning.”

Brienne frowned at the letter, confusion and apprehension, the first emotions to hit her. Was this a threat to her quest? Who could possibly have known her whereabouts? She could safely rule out Cersei. She wouldn’t show her the courtesy of a letter; she’d rather send out assassins to close the matter once and for all.

Who, apart from Sansa’s key adversary could it be? Who—

Only one other name came to her mind, this one bringing a faint smile to her lips, the only one to leave her heart fluttering like a love-struck maiden’s. Blood rushed to her face, flushing her with inner warmth, and she gazed at it with fondness, picturing his handsome face. Every feature, right from his bright green eyes to his golden mane, his square jaw to the smile that weakened her - all of it, she vividly recalled, clearly with even the minutest detail locked in her mind, as if she’d seen him not days back, but yesterday.

It can’t be. Why would he? What business has he with me?

Her fingers tightening around the letter, she could feel the sweat from her palm leach into the parchment as her other hand involuntarily reached down to caress Oathkeeper’s hilt. With a deep breath, she unfolded it, holding back her doubts and questions until she’d uncovered her mystery correspondent.

She held her breath when she skimmed through the writing. Misshapen, the letters were, like a child’s, distinctly recognizable as the one she’d seen in the White Book on his page.

My lady.

She closed her eyes for a moment, his voice, his soft murmur whenever he called her a lady, returning to haunt her from the realm of her memories. Knowing better than to gauge his intentions without reading till the end, she went on.

Hope this finds you in good health and with a fair bit of success in your quest. As I sit down to write this, I’m wondering how to put this to you. I may be a man of many words, of thousand insults, even (my sincerest apologies for giving you hell in the past), but I know not, how to break this to you, except to begin with saying that I no longer love Cersei like that—

Brienne had to stop again, the words after that, blurring away into incoherence. Her heart jumped, throwing her off her emotional balance. A hundred interpretations of this, there could be, and many inferences.

Collecting her composure and whatever little patience was left in her, she pushed herself to go on.

I do love my sister, Brienne, and I always will, though not as my soulmate anymore, for that place in my heart is now occupied by another. I have left the Kingsguard, as my lord father has always wanted me to, and decided to take on the future I was destined for, the lord and heir to Casterly Rock.

Hopes and dreams had always lived in her eyes, but never did she expect the gods to oblige her with them. Could this be the day when dreams met real life?

My lord father says I must marry a suitable woman of noble birth and sire his heirs. Maidens, far and wide, he insists, I must meet and court, but none of them interest me, Brienne, for I have my heart set on who it will be.

The rest is up to you. My future - our future is in your hands, Lady Brienne, so what is it that you desire?

Tears crowded her eyes. When had anyone ever bothered to ask her that?

You were the only one to accept me for the man I am, so would you accept my heart and give me yours in return? Would you accept my proposal and be my wife? I may be exaggerating if I say I’d give you the world, but truth, it is, and nothing but the truth when I tell you that I am yours.

I am yours. She read it again. I am yours. Her eyes refused to move past that line until she’d properly registered it. Until it sank in.

Will you be mine, wench? If your answer is yes, I will come for you at once, to help you fulfill one vow. To make another with you. To seal our bond with the sacred words and a kiss.

Say yes, my lady, and shower this crippled knight with your love and a blessed future. If you think otherwise—

“Yes!” she cried out aloud, half-laughing and half-crying. “A thousand times yes!”

There was no room in her heart for otherwise. She didn’t want to read the rest. She didn’t have to.

“M’lady.”

She turned around, and there stood Pod with a gentle smile on his face. “Should I get you some parchment and quill?” he offered, taking in her face and the note in her hand.

“Yes, Podrick, that would be nice,” she replied, her voice shaking. “Thank you.”

As soon as her squire left, she re-read the words of love again, her heart swelling, her happiness out of bounds as she mentally composed her reply.

[loousir]

[Gorgon] Some Secrets Should be Said

Gorgon Male x Unaware/Oblivious Male Reader

Eros

Warnings: Tiniest ammout of homophobia/racisim, smoochin in a supply closet, YOU MAY BE IN HIGHSCHOOL BUT YOU ARE 18

Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

It was an early Monday morning. The usual early birds were arriving at school, you being one of them. Rumor was going around of a new student getting enrolled. There were only three high schools in this small town; One for monsters, one for humans, and one for both. You were enrolled in the one that shared with monsters. The overall relations in the school were good, other than the typical high school antics.

You had just been dropped off by your sibling and we're walking into the building. A few people smiled your way and you smiled back, heading to your first hour. The teacher was a Satyr and she was a bubbly as ever, happy to see you in the morning. "Good morning (Y/n), we have a new student coming today." Your ears perked up and you looked over to her.

"Ah, we do? So the rumor was true after all?" She laughed and said, "Yes! He's gonna make a bit of history here." You became confused at her statement as you walked over to your seat. "What do you mean by that?" You asked setting your bag on the table. "I might get in a bit of trouble for telling but..." She walked over, her hooves clacking on the floor as she did. She leaned in on the table, "He will be the first Gorgon to be enrolled into the school!"

She seemed overly excited about the new student but you smiled at her enthusiasm. "You seem awfully happy about that. Is he in our class?" You asked, sitting down in your chair. Her smiled seemed to get wider as she nodded. You paused for a moment and leaned back. "Does that mean he's gonna sit by me?" She nods again. "Yep! You are the only one without a table partner. I'm sure you'll be fine. He's a nice kid." She ruffeled your hair and you swatted her hands away. "Auntie, you know I'm taken right?" She isn't your biological aunt but she's very close with your mom so you call her it for fun.

She laughed and walked away saying, "He's a cute one." You sighed and rolled your eyes as you pulled out your phone. You opened Snapchat and sent a message to your boyfriend.

You took a cute selfie, looking down at the phone while your forehead rested on the table.

Aunties super excited about our new student.

Ngl, I kinda am too. She said he was a Gorgon and I think she's onto my facination with cute snakes xx

You sent the snap and put your phone face down on the table before resting your face on your bag. A minute or so passed before you got a message back.

It was a black screen but he usually sent one. Admittedly, you have never seen him but you respected that since you fell in love with his personality, which was charming as ever.

Don't go cheating on me now ;)

I might just have to show you I'm cuter xx

You smiled and took another selfie.

So that means I get to see you then??? Game on babe xx

You smiled as you sent it. Yeah, it was cheesy flirting but it made you happy none the less. A few seconds later he messaged back with another black screen.

Hmm, I just might lol

You sent that you love him too and put your phone in your pocket. Smiling slightly as you looked up to see that some other students were starting to show up. Soon enough, the first bell for class to start rings and students filter in, taking their seats. Five minutes later, you still haven't seen a certain Gorgon as the final bell rings, saying anyone who wasn't there was late.

Gotta get to class, message you when I can

Love you xx

Mrs. Hucksburry stood at the front of the class, writing some last minute things on the board. "Alright class," Most of the students quiet down at her words. "As you may have heard, we have a new student today! I want you to treat him with respect as he is one of us," She said referring to her fellow monsters. "He is the first of his kind to be enrolled into our schools system." Right as she finished speaking, the door opened to show a rather handsome face and a the obvious 'hair' that came in the shape of several small, darkly colored snakes that seemed to form some sort of style.

He wore rather nice and stylish clothes, very 90's -esk. Mrs. Hucksburry smiled more and looked over to him. "Good morning Mr. Lamollot, glad to see you made your way here." He smiles a cute and almost shy smile, making a pair of girls in class giggle. You watched and tuned out what they were saying before seeing he was looking at you.

You waved to him as he walked over to your table. "I'm guessing you're (Y/n)?" You smiled and nodded, "That'd be me." You put your bag on the floor next to the table and he quietly sat down next to you. "I'm Eros by the way." He was quiet when he spoke as class had officially started. You pulled out a notebook with a pen/pencil and made a message page.

You have the same name as my boyfriend!

You tore the paper out and slid it over to him while he was getting his own notebook and pen. Notes were handwritten on the board since the projector broke and hadn't been replaced yet but no one seemed to mind. The paper was slid back over to you.

Really? What are the chances of that?

His hand writing was nice for a boy and you looked out of the corner of your eye to see him smiling. You smiled too and wrote back.

Who knows but I think it's cool

You slid the paper back and he took a minute to slide it back but you patiently waited since you would have done the same. He didn't write anything on it.

You seem pretty chill Eros, wanna hang out at lunch? Also can I see your schedule? • 3 •

The paper was passed back for the fifth time during class and all it said was his schedule along with a "Sure!" underneath. You told him that the two of you share the same schedule. WhAt A cOiNcIdEnCe.

You looked over to him to see him looking at the paper. He looked up to you and you smiled. Eros smiled back and took the paper to ask.

Do you have early release too?

You read it as he wrote and he looked up to you. You nodded and he wrote again.

Wanna go chill at the park?

You shrugged and nodded again when he looked up to you. He smiled and nodded as the two of you went back to working on class work. You hadn't noticed it before but, his snakes seemed to be interested in you, which you thought was cute.

--- Skip to Break ---

An hour and a half had passed and the two of you had talked a bit throughout the time. The bell for break just rang and you got up with Eros. The two of you walked out to the hallway. "Let me make a stop by my locker real quick then we can go to next hour and chill there for break." He nodded and leaned against the locker next to you when two girls walked up to him. They were the same pair from first hour.

"Hey Eros, wanna hang with us at lunch?" The "leader" asked, standing in front of him. "Yeah that'd be like, totally cool if you did." Her buddy said, standing next to him. "Oh, sorry, me and (Y/n) al-" She cut him off with a scoff. "Oh you mean halfie? That kids got an imaginary boyfriend. How about you just ditch him and come eat with us." Eros looked over to you to see you had tensed and slowed your movements.

The girls focus turned on you, making you bite your lip. "Do you think you could not ruin this guy? He's like, super hot and doesn't need to be tainted by you." You looked away and felt a vibration come from your phone. You took the chance and opened it to see a message from your boyfriend. She smirked, "Did your 'boyfriend' text you? What'd he say?" She asked in a taunting tone.

You ignored her and opened the message. It was a new picture of the "super hot" guy standing next to you looking down to his phone.

Wanna dip babe?

These bitches are annoying the fuck outta me lol

The three of you looked up to him surprised as you closed your locker. He awkwardly smiled and said, "Guess I had to ruin that surprise cause some bimbos wanna fuck a gay guy." He laughed and walked over to you, grabbing your hand. You were speechless.

How did I not connect the dots earlier? Am I really that dense?

"It's a shame too. I was considering being friends, until you insulted my boyfriend, that is." He locked your fingers and looked back at the two. "Go suck a dildo, whore." Eros flipped them off and walked off with you around the corner, looking for a private spot. "Anywhere there won't be eavesdroppers?" He asked quietly. You nodded and lead him to a back room.

You opened the door with the key you had and let you go in first. The room was pretty nice considering it was useless. You turned on the light at set your bag down, Eros doing the same. "Are you really my boyfriend?" You asked stepping closer to him. He blushed and nodded, "I... I think so... I kind of ruined the supr-mm!" His eyes widened as you connected your lips to his. You pulled away and were about to speak when he connected them again, pressing his body into yours slightly.

He pulled away and you smiled, a blush was covering your face. "I've wanted to do that for so long." You said looking up to him slightly. "Me too." He said, hugging you close. "Why did you lie to me about being human?" You asked, resting your face on his chest. "I was... Scared of how you'd react if I told you the truth." You pulled away and looked up to him. "Are you kidding? Look what I was missing out on!" You said, making gestures to him.

Eros smiled and laughed. "I have a question for you though," You tilted your head slightly. "Why did they call you halfie?" You looked away and brushed back the hair around your ears. The tips of them were pointed much like an elf's but not as long. "My dads an elf. They like to use it as an insult since they're full and I'm not..."

Eros smiled again and nuzzled his nose to the crook of your neck. His snakes were gently booping their noses against your cheek as if giving you small kisses. You giggled at the sensation and he hummed to ask what was so funny. "Your snakes are cute." You said gently intertwining your fingers with them. He gently kissed your neck and rubbed your sides. "Well, they love you just as much as I love you." He said closing his eyes and hugging you.

You smiled and removed your hand to cup his cheek and make him look at you. His golden eyes were half lidded as he did. "Well," You said almost mocking him in away. "I love you and your snakes too." His eyes closed as he leaned in and yours did the same, both of your lips connecting again.

Eros pressed himself into you as both of you kissed. You pulled away first for air and he kissed your cheek and jaw lightly. You checked your phone when he pulled away he asked. "I'm curious how you got a key to a janitors closet." You leaned up to him and kissed his cheek. "My biological uncles the principal and he gave me the room to chill if I need to. It's usually where I would hang out for lunch but I dont really need to anymore since early release and all."

He "ooh'd" and nodded. "Makes sense. Wish I had a place like this at my old school." He looked back at you and his eyes went to your hair while you were checking something on your phone. Eros almost hesitantly brushed his fingers through your (h/c) hair. You jumped slightly at the sudden touch but enjoyed it none the less. "We have 4 minutes by the way." You said closing your eyes and leaning into his hand.

"Your hair is really nice. It's so soft." He smiled when you did and he gently kissed your nose while removing his hand from your hair. You tried your best to make it look like how it did before. "Sorry." He said gently with a small laugh. "Don't be, let's head to next hour so we can get this day done with and hang out." He nodded at your words and you grabbed his hand as the two of you grabbed your bags and quietly made it to the class you're meant to be in.

--- Skip to End of Day ---

The last two hours of school they had went by pretty quickly. The bell for lunch and early release seniors rang, making most people rush to leave or go to lunch. You and Eros lagged behind, waiting for the halls to clear a bit. He gently grabbed your hand as you finished putting your bag on. "Do you wanna go to the park or my house? I have a car so it doesn't matter too much on which you pick." He said with a small laugh.

You blushed and shrugged, "I would probably like your house since it's kinda cold out right now..." The two of you walked out of the class, hand in hand. The pair of girls from earlier watched with hatred/jealousy as the two of them walked out together. They were all going the same way so they got to see Eros walk you to his 1969 Blue Camaro.

Eros unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you to get in to which you gladly accepted. You set your bag down by your feet and buckled as he set his bag in the back and got in. "I hope my dad isn't home." He said closing his door and starting the car. "Why do you say that?" You asked as he buckled his seat belt.

He sighed and leaned back on his seat. "He doesn't actually know we're... Y'know, dating. Or if he does he has no clue you're a guy..." You nodded and looked to him while he backed out from the parking lot. "We can still go to the park. I'll survive I'm sure." You said softly. "Plus I kinda wanna wear your jacket..." You mumbled the last part while looking away but he heard and smiled, acting as if he didn't hear.

"There's one close to my house we can go to. It's pretty cool if you wanna go there." Eros said while stopping at a light. "That sounds good." He smiled again and looked over to you before looking back at the light. Seeing it change to green, he stepped on the gas again and headed to the destination.

---

The ride was comfortably quiet other than the occasional comment about something in the passing scenery. "Ok, we're here." Eros said, parking his car in the relatively empty parking lot. "I've never seen this place before. It's really pretty." You said as the two of you stepped out.

"Yeah. It's pretty quiet here. I usually hang out here after school. I have never been home "on time" since I got a car 3-ish years ago." You smiled and held his hand as he locked the car and put the keys away. "I'll take you to my favorite spot. There's all kinds of secret areas thanks to the trees." He said with a slight child like glee. You giggled like the school boy that you are as he dragged you along through a beautiful walkway that was shaded by the trees. "Gods it's so pretty here." You said under your breath.

You walked for what felt like forever before he shifted to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He removed his hand to show one of the few non blank pictures he sent. "Oh wow." The winter sun was shining over the neighboring town, giving a good idea of just how small it was. "We have a cliff?" You asked suddenly, making Eros laugh and hug you close to his body.

Eros smiled as he took a turn off the path and up a small hill. He stopped and gently let go of your hand, covering your eyes. You reached up to remove his hand but he stopped you. "W-what are you doing Eros?" He giggled and started walking, making you grab onto him afraid of running into something. "Eros?!"

"Don't worry babe. I promise it's nothing bad. I know you'll like it."

"Kinda crazy right?" He said before resting his chin on your shoulder. You nodded as his snakes gently booped you're temple and cheek again, making you smile. You reached up and gently placed a hand on Eros' cheek, rubbing your thumb against his jawline. "Wanna sit down? I have two and a half hours before I have to be home." You nodded again and he pulled away, leading you over to a fairly large tree.

He took off his jacket and tossed it up onto a branch before jumping into the tree himself. You were surprised before he reached down to help you up. "C'mon, it'll give us some privacy just incase anyone comes over here." You somewhat hesitantly took his hand and he helped pull you up onto the thick tree branch. He leaned back against the trees core, letting his legs hang down and inviting you to do the same against him.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence again while he hugged you close, resting his head against your shoulder. "I love you. A lot." He mumbled softly into your ear. You smiled and held onto the top of his hand that was holding onto your stomach. "I love you a lot too." You mumbled back. "Oh and, do you wanna wear my jacket now? I noticed you were shivering ever since we started walking."

You blushed and looked down to the tree branch and ground below it. "I didn't think you heard me say that..." He giggled and leaned forward a bit, grabbing the jacket off the branch it was hooked on to. You moved forward and he helped you put the slightly bigger jacket on. You snuggled into the lingering warmth, taking in his soft cologne.

"Your jacket smells good babe." Eros chuckles and pulls you against his chest again. "Well, it's got my favorite cologne on it so if course it smells good." You smile and let your head fall back against his shoulder and he kissed your temple.

"So. Do you wanna explain yourself a bit?"

-----

3261

Minimal spell/grammar checking, also set up for a part 2?

[hansolmates]

here comes the bride, all dressed in pride

summary; You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; fake dating!au, fluff, crack, mentions of cheating, lang, alcohol, mc eats meat, tw sexual harassment, toxic family, dick talk, making out, if u have that one family member that pulls bs on you constantly this is it, this fic is for all the people who have a huge ass family who wont leave them alone w.c; 17.3k  a/n: my second fic for gcn’s 23 birthday project! the fact that wedding szn zoomed by us like that... and so bc im sad that so many weddings had to be postponed this fic was born! a huge thank u to vivi @eerieedits​ / @chillingtae​​ for creating this BEAUTIFUL fic banner and separator pls check vivi out to make your fics all purty

prompts used: “You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?” and “I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.”

if you enjoyed this pls consider giving a like and a share💕💕

Doyeon likes to call Jungkook, “the one who got away.” 

You like to call Doyeon, “the one who drove him away.” 

In secret, of course. In fact, the only person who knows how much you loathe Doyeon and her behavior is your father. And all your co-workers. And your boss. And your boss’ ex-husband. 

And Jeon Jungkook, but of course you haven’t seen the man in two years and back then he was far too polite to address his concerns of your hatred of his then-girlfriend. 

Okay, so everyone and their mother knows how much you don’t like your cousin. Kim Doyeon and you have had beef since the sandbox, and for whatever reason is always out to one-up you. A strange competitive nature in everything, academics, family, and even boys. The sick, twisted part of you has come to enjoy it. While you’re not a fighter as devout as Doyeon is, you have your own callous tendencies farmed from the seeds Doyeon has planted in your brain. She gives you a comment? You can’t help but throw one back. Since you’re a painfully mature soul you don’t have any mortal enemies as far as you know, Doyeon is the perfect amount of hot water to keep you on your toes. 

“I’m really sorry that you couldn’t be a bridesmaid,” Doyeon cooes next to you, swirling her champagne glass with a too-jutted pout, “but if I did there’d be an odd number of pairings and you’re a little too old to be walking as a bridesmaid, am I right?” 

Your nails. Are digging. Through your dress. Alas, you’re in public and you have class. Doyeon smiles at you with all teeth, reminding you of the Beldam from Coraline. Aside from that she looks absolutely stunning in that Lirika Matoshi strawberry dress that has her Instagram aching with likes and love from her baseless followers. 

“I don’t know,” you reply lightly, leaning back in your seat, “I mean, if Yoojung and Rena can be bridesmaids and they’re three years older than me, wouldn’t I make the cut? It’s okay to be honest and say you just didn’t want me in the bridal party.” 

Doyeon laughs, slaps your thigh like you told her the most hilarious joke in the world. Anyone passing by would think you’re best friends. You laugh too, incredulous at the amount of power she thinks she holds. 

“Nice party,” you tack on, surveying the room. It’s filled with pastels and beiges, bright and airy.  It’s Parisian themed, and while you’re not a fan of theming cultures, you can’t deny that you’re loving the infinite supply of macarons. 

“Oh, yes. This is just a taste of the real wedding,” she laces her fingers together, as if she thinks she’s living an Elizibethean love story, “speaking of, you put on your RSVP that you’re bringing a plus one. Am I allowed to know who’s the unlucky date?” 

“As if you care.” 

“I care if you’re bringing Jimin. That tiny thing nearly gave Aunt Lillian a heart attack when he gave a striptease at Yoongi’s graduation party.” 

You smirk softly at the bold memory. That was the plan. 

Doyeon sighs dramatically, crossing her legs and popping out a cherry red heel. She plays with the back on the balls of her feet, letting the little pearly rhinestones glisten in the candlelight, “I should really commend you, cousin,” she drawls, “I mean, how kind of you to be so charitable and give your dopey friends a chance to have fun. After all, I’m sure it is difficult for someone like you to find a date.” 

It’s no surprise as to how you end up with a date at any family formal gathering. You say you bring a plus one, and then between Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok. The three of them draw straws as to who gets to gorge on free alcohol and food for that night. 

“Difficult?” you arch a brow, “I get plenty of dates.” 

Doyeon giggles. She must be feeling extra vindictive today, high on her impending marriage and the taste of bubbly champagne. “By taking turns with those three? You gotta be kidding me,” she snorts, tipping back her crystal, “please y/n. Don’t get so defensive because I’m getting married first. Your time will come. That is, if you stop dicking around with your friends.” 

Normally you’d smother any attempt at Doyeon to call out your friends, but now she’s just done that and insulted your ability to get some, and you are livid. 

“Actually,” you quip sharply, “I’ve been dating someone. It’s been a couple months, actually.” 

“Oh?” Doyeon’s genuinely interested, face falling slightly, “you’ve never mentioned anyone, I don’t see anyone on your social media.” 

“Yeah well,” you feign sympathy, pressing your lips together and tilting your head accordingly, “I’ve had to keep it private for a couple of reasons.” 

“What, is he ugly or something?” she chuckles, “but really, who’s the person who has the misfortune of being in a committed relationship with you?” 

Maybe it’s because Doyeon’s right, the both of you are too old. The two of you have been running around each other for years, with no end in sight. Maybe, the words that linger on the tip of your tongue will be the final nail in the coffin. 

“Jeon Jungkook,” you state proudly, clear as day. “Jungkook and I have been dating for three months.” 

And you pick up the vanilla macaron that sits innocently on your plate, ravishing it up like it contained all the tension in your table. Between you and Doyeon’s bubble, you could hear a pin drop. 

“Jungkook?” her smile is concrete-solid, “my Jungkook?” 

“My Jungkook,” you correct, giving her a puppy-eyed look, “I’m really sorry I never told you. I mean, is there ever a right time to tell your cousin they’re dating their ex-boyfriend?” you laugh, either to lighten the mood or because you love the way Doyeon pinches her face, you don’t know.

“How did you two even meet?” 

“We reconnected through Seokjin. You know how the two of them play Starcraft together, I just ended up joining the call and he was so funny and nice. We just sorta… felt it.” Doyeon nods like a slow bobblehead, still comprehending in her pea-sized brain, “I just hope it isn’t too awkward. I know it’s been awhile but, if you really don’t want Jungkook to come I can always take Hoseok or something.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Doyeon says a little too quickly, masking on her picture-perfect smile. “I’m with Namjoon now, and I’m totally happy. Water under the bridge, it’ll be totally fine.” 

“Really?” your eyes practically sparkle, thankful for the amount of glitter and highlighter you’ve dumped on your face today, “I really appreciate it, Yeonie.” 

And she quickly downs her champagne glass, and gets up from her seat. It’s haunting, the way she gets up, pink tulle billowing around her ankles. “I have to attend to the other guests,” she says. 

“Of course,” you raise your glass.

“But, be careful,” she gives you a little smile, one filled with a last-ditch attempt at a jab, “Jungkook, he’s a little hard to deal with.” 

“Oh don’t worry. I know how to deal with Jungkook’s hardness,” you wink, and Doyeon’s face falls like a ton of bricks. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know,” you shrug loftily, “that’s what I meant, though.” 

And you don’t bother watching Doyeon stomp off the metaphorical stage, double fisting two new glasses of champagne from an awaiting butler as she finds some other poor guest to pick on. Now, the matter of securing your date. Conveniently so, the most important man in the room is walking your way, and you manage to snag his tie just as he passes your table. 

“Ow—ow! I’m choking!” Seokjin grabs, nearly throwing his tall body onto your lap, hands grappling to release the tension on his neck. “Leave me alone, woman! I just wanted to get some chicken tenders!” 

“Jin,” you say sweetly, opening his blazer to retrieve his phone, “I need Jeon’s number, now.” 

“Jungkook?” your favorite cousin pales, eyes widening as you take out your phone of your own, copying down the digits, “what did you do?” 

“Don’t ask questions.” 

Seokjin says your name again, firmer. “You’re playing with fire.” 

“It’ll be fine, it’s the last time,” you quell, already knowing how much Seokjin hates being in the middle of your fights. Once you’ve secured the phone number, you place Seokjin’s phone back into his pocket, patting his breast. “Thank you. You know you’re my favorite cousin, you know that?” 

He grumbles a “damn right I am” before stomping away, resuming his race for his chicken tenders. 

You: hey jeon it’s y/n. I see you’re doing great, i saw on instagram that you released your first app w/yoongi! Totally amazing, been playing for weeks, really upset that i can’t get past the flaming frog boss :((

You: Feel free to ignore this, i won’t blame you if you do. Im at doyeon’s rehearsal dinner, and she basically snubbed my friends and said i couldn’t get some prime dick even though im?? Me??? Anyway, im tired of her shit so im gonna throw it back at her, one last time before she ties the knot. I told her you and i have been dating, and im bringing you as my date to her wedding. Really sorry, the demons took over my brain and made the worst and best comeback of my life. So… if you’re up for being the hottest couple on the floor in three weeks and showing how madly in love we are, please text me back? Or not. You might think this family is crazy and i accept partial responsibility. 

You: I’ll buy u every meal for every practice date we have if u agree.💕💕💕

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: thanks, i appreciate that. To defeat the frog boss, go back to the coconut cave and find the garnet garter. It absorbs his fire and u can easily defeat froggo w any level 15 weapon

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: and as for the real reason u texted me. Im in. let’s get pork belly tomorrow. 

Two years ago, you were surprised that Doyeon could manage to snag a man as fine as Jeon Jungkook. Also unsurprised, because Doyeon is gorgeous and could snag any man she wanted, and has snagged every man she wanted. 

Jungkook was different though. He had an air of innocence to him. He loved her, a little too much to be safe. Your heart would betray you every time you would find him at a family gathering, making her plate and counting the calories she so meticulously measured. How can someone so sweet be with someone like Doyeon? 

Your heart ached for Jungkook when they broke up a year later. From what you heard, Doyeon was Jungkook’s first serious girlfriend. And then you wanted to rip your heart out a week later when you caught Doyeon smooching with her favorite graduate professor Kim Namjoon, wanting to erase any possibility you’d have at love. At that time, you never wanted to feel the pain you imagined Jungkook was going through. 

“Y/n! Over here!” you’re a little taken aback at how much has not changed in Jungkook. His eyes still sparkle like fresh dew, his smile is still pearly white and infectious. He’s even early, snagging a table at his favorite barbeque place and waiting for you as if he is the one organizing your first date. 

At the same time, there’s so much that’s changed about him. He’s confident, even going so far as to walk over to you and slip your jacket and purse in his grasp like a gentleman. He leads you by putting a hand lightly at the small of your back, making you feel impossibly small in comparison to his Dorito-shaped body, broad shoulders and a deliciously trim waist. 

“How was the walk over?” 

“Not too bad,” the conversation is casual, easy. You wipe the sweat off your forehead with a napkin. “Could use a little exercise now and again. I did eat a whole tray of macarons at that rehearsal dinner.” 

Jungkook laughs from his belly, causing you to smile. “Nonsense. You look great, by the way,” you don’t mind it, actually, you enjoy it when his eyes rake over your body. After all, he’s now your boyfriend and he needs to get familiar with all the important bits. He leans his arms forward, bracing him against the wooden table so his face is closer to yours. 

“You’re not doing too bad yourself,” your eyes gloss over the veins and intricate tattoos that paint his muscled upper half. Your smile morphs into a smirk, letting him know you’re enjoying the view just as well as he is. 

And as soon as the tension sparks, it ends just as fast when your waiter comes up to light your grill. 

“So,” Jungkook wastes no time in decorating your stove, making sure to add all the appropriate aromatics and infusions to season your lunch, “do you know why Doyeon and I broke up?” 

“Cheated on you with Namjoon, I assume,” you keep your eyes trained on the darkening meat. 

Jungkook slips a piece of meat in his mouth. Any expression of pain (whether it be from Doyeon or the barely cooked meat) doesn’t reveal itself as he stops to take a sip of water. “Who else knows?” 

“Just me and Seokjin. The family loved you too much and Doyeon made up some sob story about how you two were going different life paths.” 

He chuckles to himself, taking great care in flipping the meat. “I really was a fool in love, wasn’t I?” 

“It… was mildly cute.” 

“Tell me the truth, you have no reason not to.” 

“Okay, you made me want to vomit rainbows and glitter every time I saw you.”

The two of you laugh, faces crinkling shamelessly as the two of you busy yourselves with setting up the table. Most of the food is done and the aroma of fresh onions wafts around your grill. As you place chopsticks on his side of the table, you think about all the times Jungkook made it abundantly clear how much he loved Doyeon: the love letters tucked into her purse, 100 day anniversaries, even just a simple Americano for her in the morning. 

“Is that why you never hung out with us?” 

“No,” you reply lightly, “Doyeon made it clear that I shouldn’t talk to you.” 

Jungkook frowns, “You really don’t like each other, do you.” 

You shrug, “Just always been like that,” you quirk a smile when Jungkook places the freshly cooked meat on top of your rice before serving himself. 

“So what’s the plan?” 

“We go to the wedding, make out a little, get Doyeon boiling. Even if she’s not interested in you, she’d still be upset knowing we are together.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because it’s me,” you grin into your glass, staring at a water-stained Jungkook through the blue tinted glass. “And all you have to do, is enjoy your night and look pretty.” 

His eyes crinkle, chopsticks pressing between his lips. “You think I look pretty?” 

With a roll of eyes you don’t respond, preferring to dig your chopsticks in your rice. No need to inflate Jungkook’s ego too soon. 

Pinning the main theme of your hangout to the side, the both of you dig into your meal. You throw conversation back and forth like pebbles, grains of sand that build and build until you’re caught up with each other’s lives. It feels so strange to admit it’s been two years since you’ve spoken to the man, and all of a sudden the once luscious meat feels dry in your mouth. 

“Jeon,” you put your chopsticks down, “are you sure you want to do this with me? I mean, I know it’s all my fault and I dragged you into it. Don’t feel obligated to agree to this.” 

“I’m a hundred-percent sure,” he doesn’t stop eating, shoving two spoonfuls of rice in his mouth. His cheeks puff up considerably, and your eyes trail down to his neck as he swallows, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna.” 

“Right,” you don’t need a big explanation or a personal confession from Jungkook, just his consent. “Partners, Jeon?” you hold up your glass. 

“Partners,” he agrees easily. The smile on his face disarms you, a full-fledged grin decked with pearly whites. Clicking his glass to yours he adds, “And it’s Jungkook, babe.” 

Oh, this is going to be interesting. 

Seokjin thinks the two of you are the most boring fake-couple. 

His eyes dart back and forth between your spot on the couch and his desk, where Jungkook is currently seated. Seokjin is hovered over Jungkook, who’s typing and clicking furiously over his PC game. You’re on your phone, feet pulled up to the coffee table while some old Netflix movie plays in the background. To top it all off both of you didn’t even try to dress like it’s daytime, nearly matching in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. It doesn’t look like a couple coming to visit Seokin, it looks like Jungkook is playing video games with Seokjin while his cousin hangs around like she owns the place. 

“Shouldn’t you guys like, I don’t know, go on dates or something?” Seokjin feels like he’s talking to the air. “Maybe get to know each other before the big day?” 

Pulling your phone down to your lap and Jungkook taking off his headphones, the two of you shrug at each other, “No, we’re good.” Jungkook says. 

“We know enough,” you agree cooly, “Jungkook likes Valorant.” 

“I do like Valorant.” 

“He likes pork belly.”

“I do like pork belly.” 

“He’s ripped as hell.” 

“I am ripped as hell.” 

“Okay but have you guys kissed yet?” Seokjin interjects, probably compensating for the nonchalance in the room with his own brand of freaking out. You two only see each other when you’re hanging out at Seokjin’s apartment, and while he’s happy that you two aren’t doing the whole 9-yards and creating an elaborate scheme, the both of you are almost too relaxed. His anxiety is spiking.

“Yes,” Jungkook answers, “at the barbeque place we went to.” 

“It was nice," you tack on, "Jin, we got this. Don't worry." 

"How can I not worry when you're trying to upset our cousin on her wedding day?" he's sweating in his fully air-conditioned apartment. “I get that she’s the devil’s spawn and everything, but she’s still a human being.” 

“In second grade she pushed me on the treadmill because I was going too slow. I got caught on the roller and got a bald spot for two months.” 

“Okay yes one bad example—” 

“And in senior year she accused me of plagiarizing her essay just because we chose the same topic. I almost didn’t get into college!” Seokjin sighs, crossing his arms. All valid points, and arguing with you isn’t a route he wants to take. “Jin, the point is that she’s constantly pushing my buttons. I’ve always been the bigger person and now that I’m old and confident I just want one jab.”

“That’s valid,” Jungkook pipes up, pressing the spacebar a few times, “I want a jab too, she cheated on me.” 

“See? It’s a mutual decision.” 

Seokjin asks, “Why aren’t you more worried about this?”

"Because Doyeon isn't going to chew me out on her wedding day," you checked your aunt's seating chart last week and you are far, far away from the bridal table. "We're just going to show off a little bit. Get drunk, eat some bomb steak. Break up in three months or less.”

"You don't have to just convince Doyeon, it's your entire family! Not to mention you also have to go to the bachelor party!" 

"Oh I almost forgot," you reach under the couch for your laptop, "Jungkook, in two weekends from now we're flying to Las Vegas for the bachelor party and wedding. I'll buy your ticket now." 

"Thanks, babe!” Jungkook sends a cheeky grin to Seokjin, who is unimpressed. “See? I remember to call her babe.” 

“Alright, get out of my house,” Seokjin tugs Jungkook away from his computer, causing the younger man to swivel around in his plush gaming chair. 

Jungkook frowns at the monitor, “But I’m still bronze one. I’m aiming for silver one by this weekend.” 

“Don’t care. As much as I don’t like this plan, I’m not letting you two slip-up.” Seokjin pulls out his phone, revealing Doyeon’s Instagram story, “Doyeon and Namjoon are at the mall buying swimsuits for Vegas. Go to the mall and ‘accidentally’ run into them.”

You sit up straight, tilting your head to the side. “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” you bound over to grab your jacket, giving Seokjin a big fat kiss on his cheek, “Thanks Jinnie, do you know you’re—”

“I’m your favorite cousin. Yeah whatever, bye.” He waves you off, plopping in his own chair so he can enjoy his games in peace. 

“I’m driving,” Jungkook declares, swiping your keys from Seokjin’s opal dish. 

“Oh, hell no,” you jump on your tippy toes to reach Jungkook’s grasp on your keys, but he’s so freakishly tall there’s no way you can reach. “I drive my car!” 

“I’ve always wanted to drive your car back then,” Jungkook cooes, leaning in so your noses touch. “C’mon, you can trust me.” 

“You two are gross already,” Seokjin admonishes from the other side of the room, “see, it’s working!” 

Poking his cheek so he gives you some space, you whip your head to hide the flush that burns on your cheeks. “Fine, but if you crash you’re buying me a new one.” 

“They’re over there,” you hiss between the racks, shuffling between the plastic hangers to point to Doyeon and Namjoon at the women’s section of the store. They look disgustingly adorable together, with Doyeon pointedly telling Namjoon which swimsuit suits his stature better while Namjoon nods along and goes with whatever she says. You crouch down lower, fearing Namjoon’s tall frame would catch you. “Now we just gotta act all couple-y and they’ll notice us. Or maybe we can walk over to them? What do you wanna do?” 

“Do you think we should get matching swimsuits?” Jungkook pays no mind to your sleuthing, holding up a red pair of swim trunks to his thighs, “we could pretend to be sexy lifeguards.” 

You tilt your head away from the pair, only because Jungkook has been genuinely interested in this store since you’ve arrived. Putting a hand under your chin, you scrutinize the dark red cutoff shorts. “They’re cute,” you nod appreciatively, “It’ll make your thighs look thick.” 

Jungkook’s grip on his hanger lowers, and he regards you with dark eyes. “You think my thighs look thick?” he asks, leaning in and putting one hand on the curve of your waist. His fingers dance on the surface of bare skin between your top and jeans, and while you’ve agreed beforehand that you two could touch each other wherever in public, it still surprises you when gooseflesh rises to the surface.

“Easy there, tiger,” you chuckle, putting a hand on his chest to stop his sudden bout of flirting. “I’m just stating the facts, we get it. You lift.” 

“You’re so cute when you try to put your guard up,” he’s brushing noses with you now, and you feel the plastic of the hanger crumple pathetically between you two as the gap closes further. “But you can’t hide from me.”

And just as his lips move to press against yours, a shrill “Jungkook!” echoes throughout the large store.

You nearly flop over the boardshorts rack if not for Jungkook’s arms secured around your waist. Oh right, you think dumbly, this is all for show. Doyeon and Namjoon are right in front of you, purchases already made and looking at you two in curiosity. Well, Namjoon is definitely curious, because you know for a fact that Doyeon speaks very little of you to him and you’ve only conversed with him a handful of times. Doyeon on the other hand, looks a little stiff in the grin. 

“Hello to you too,” you remark to Doyeon, who’s barely acknowledged you. You reach over to squeeze Namjoon’s arm, “Hi Joonie,” you crinkle your eyes, and you fight back a squeal when he smiles back with dimples. Doyeon has such a cute fiancé, and if you’re keeping score he’s way too good for her. 

Doyeon’s eyes glaze over to where you’ve touched Namjoon, and she links her arms with his. “What a coincidence, you two are buying swimsuits where we’re buying swimsuits.” 

“Well, there’s only one mall in this town and we’re going on the same trip in two weeks,” you reply blandly, and you feel Jungkook pinch your side. “Oh, Namjoon. Have you met my boyfriend Jungkook?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Namjoon reaches over to clasp Jungkook’s hand, “nice to meet you, man.” 

While Namjoon and Jungkook exchange small talk, you pointedly ignore the waves of negativity Doyeon sends your way in favor of observing the two large men. Namjoon just said it was nice to meet him, therefore he has no clue who Jungkook is. Interesting, considering Doyeon two-timed in favor of Namjoon. It gets you a little antsy, and you wonder if Namjoon is faking this whole interaction or if Doyeon is hiding something. 

“Baby,” Jungkook rests a hand on your shoulder, regarding you with concern, “you spaced out there, are you okay?” 

“She’s like that, Jungkookie,” Jungkook gently presses your shoulders down, blocking your view of Doyeon as she regards your not-boyfriend as Jungkookie. “My cousin’s a bit of an airhead,” her tone is sweet and jesting, the backhanded jab going right above Namjoon’s head. 

“I’m just hungry,” you say, forcing a tight-lipped smile. 

“Well, that’s perfect,” Namjoon clasps his hands together, “Yeonie and I were just about to go grab some dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

Doyeon and you both reply immediately, “That really isn’t necessary—” 

“Nonsense,” you don’t even have the heart to be upset at Namjoon because he looks so damn genuine, “It’s been two years and I haven’t even bought you a meal, y/n. After all, we’re going to be family at the end of the month.” 

“Right,” you answer reluctantly. 

“We’re gonna make reservations at the Cheesecake Factory,” he pulls out his phone, ready to make a call, “but you and Jungkook can finish shopping, okay? The wait will be a little long but by the time you’re done our table should be ready.” 

You and Jungkook wave off Doyeon and Namjoon as they make their way to the restaurant. Your hand is caught in the air by Jungkook, who regards you with worry in his eyes. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked spaced out,” he says, “tell me what you were really thinking.” 

Subconsciously, you squeeze his palm for comfort. “I don’t know, it just feels weird knowing Namjoon doesn’t seem to know you at all. Normally Doyeon loves to talk shit about her exes.” 

Jungkook scoffs easily, “I mean, if she’s marrying the guy I’m sure she doesn’t want to let him know the details of how they ended up together.” 

“True,” you decide to let it go, and follow Jungkook to the register to pay for his swim trunks. 

“So,” the little ‘ding’ of the register opens up the money box, and Jungkook quickly hands the clerk his cash, “we’re having dinner with them after this?” 

“Only if you want to.”

“We need to, right?” Jungkook thanks the clerk, holding the bag in one hand and threading his fingers through yours as you head out the store. 

“Well, do you want to?” you ask again. Jungkook stops the two of you on the sidewalk. It isn’t a fast stop, but a slow down that makes his walk a little more thicker, more deliberate as he trudges you down the lane. You move in front of him, clutching your hands between his. “Are you okay? You barely even acknowledged Doyeon.” 

“I’m fine,” you flinch at his harsh tone, and he immediately moves to remedy it by squeezing your hand back. “I’m sorry. It’s just been awhile and I’m definitely over her but,” he bows his head, feeling embarrassed, “she hurt me, you know?” 

Going into this is definitely one of the more selfish plans you’ve put your mind to. Your heart pangs thinking about what must be going through everytime he sees her. If he’s reminded about all the good times they shared, or how much he’s over thought every single conversation he’s had with her up until this point.

“Of course,” you completely understand, knowing from the beginning that this whole mess would end up with some dicey feelings someway or another. “I’m just thankful you chose to stick by me. And we can talk about it if you’re comfortable,” both of you being victims of Doyeon’s brand of torture, you hope the two of you can at least be friends after all of this is over, “we don’t have to go have dinner with them.” 

“But, Namjoon got us a table—” 

“Namjoon will be fine. We can always have dinner with him another time,” you smile softly, “what matters is that you’re okay.” 

His gaze melts, and you feel his grip loosen in your hold. He regards you with weak eyes, betraying the confidence he held himself to moments before. “Thanks, y/n,” he says, “I really appreciate that.” 

“Anytime,” you reply honestly. “We can go to Cheesecake and order to-go. I can make some excuse about how my stomach hurts and that we should do a raincheck.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Do you wanna eat at one of our places or eat at the park or something?” you’re already pulling up your phone, checking out the menu. “We could invite Jin too.” 

“The park sounds nice,” neither of you acknowledge the fact that you’re not inviting Seokjin, and for some reason that’s okay.

“Yeah,” you agree simply, “the weather’s beautiful.” 

Under any normal circumstances, you would’ve been friends with someone like Jeon Jungkook, easily. A little part of you wishes that you could’ve met Jungkook first, but Doyeon has better connections than you and always had a good crowd around despite her inner motivations. No awkward exchange happens when you suggest to Jungkook to eat together. Even though you’re not technically dating, the two of you know that eating together is better than eating alone.

And you have to admit Jungkook’s great company. The two of you drive to a reserve nearby, overlooking a tiny lake. Instead of a fancy Italian tablecloth the two of you move your car seats down and set a spare picnic blanket in the trunk. Instead of a candlelit dinner the two of you find some emergency electric tealights in the glove compartment, lighting it up between you two as you dig into your to-go boxes. 

You’re a little envious that so much time has passed by. You could’ve been a little sneakier and made a better effort to communicate with Jungkook when you saw him regularly at family parties, and maybe you two would have a better friendship today. Nevertheless, the two of you mesh like peanut butter and jelly, exchanging conversation that has your cheeks sore from smiling too hard. 

By the time you get to dessert, the moon is out and the stars are floating above your heads. The two of you are at war, fighting with your forks over the last strawberry in your cheesecake slice. After some careful stabbing Jungkook manages to nab it with his fork. 

He almost puts it in his mouth, but instead swipes up some whipped cream to press the last strawberry to your lips. 

“I think it’s working,” Jungkook says randomly as you chew the sweet fruit, “you could see it on Doyeon’s face today. She’s unsettled.” 

“Yeah,” you agree, lying down on the lavender gingham picnic blanket. 

“Do you know why she fights with you all the time?” 

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since the dawn of time.”

“I think I know why.” Jungkook looks down at you with his large doe eyes, licking innocently on a spoon of whipped cream. 

“Pray tell.” 

“She’s jealous of you.” 

“No,” you disagree easily, “she’s jealous that I have you.” 

“Bzzt! Wrong,” Jungkook puts his empty container in your makeshift trash can, falling beside you and knitting his hands under his head. You have a little window on the roof of your car, so both of you are able to stare at the navy sky, “she’s always been jealous of you. Think about it. The two of you have similar lifestyles: same career path, confidence, taste, education. But even after all of that? People still like you more.” 

You scoff, hands immediately reaching to fiddle with the frayed corner of fabric next to your fingers. “I don’t think so.” 

“I’ve met all of Doyeon’s friends,” he informs you, “they’re weird. Like yeah, they care about each other on the surface level. But they’re nothing of substance. They’re not like your friends.” 

“Please, Doyeon has everything she could ever want,” you don’t know what kind of complex you have supporting Doyeon’s life, but something deep and insecure wants to separate you two as far away from each other as possible. “Like… she’s Malibu Barbie and I’m Polly Pocket.” 

Jungkook turns to face you, resting his head between his palm and leaning on his elbow. “Do you not think you’re beautiful?” 

“Yeah, but compared to Doyeon—” 

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?”

You choke on your saliva, feeling small and skittish at the implication behind his words. It’s been two years. You’ve only been friends for two weeks. How can he possibly say that? 

“I uh, saw you once,” Jungkook coughs, and you watch the way his pale cheeks unmatch the moon and instead flit to a crimson hue, “we were at some party and you were wearing this really cute black dress with a white bow in the middle. Doesn’t even matter what party because it was random, y’know? I was gonna go talk to you but Doyeon got to me first and well, the rest is history.” He breaks eye contact with you, unable to handle it. 

You remember that party, vaguely. It was random, some sort of poetry slam in a shady part of town. Doyeon and you didn’t even go with each other, you were with Taehyung and she just happened to stumble in there from another nearby party. You didn’t even know Jungkook was there that night, or how you were a hair's breadth away from meeting him before Doyeon. 

“Don’t ever think you’re lesser than her just because out of all the people she chose to pick on, she chose you. It’s why she never lets you get to know her boyfriends. She’s threatened by you because you’re just as special,” something low sparks in your chest at his words,  “and now that you’ve finally decided to stoop to her level and fight back with a taste of her own medicine, she doesn’t know what to do.” 

Feeling like your body is on a beach and you’re sinking in sand, you soften over your picnic blanket, mulling it over. “Did I make the right choice? Stooping down to her level.” Your voice is quiet, comparable to the chirping birds and buzzing gnats outside. 

“We won’t know until after the wedding,” Jungkook answers honestly, “but I do know I’m sticking with you until the end. We’re friends now, got that? You have no excuse to ignore me anymore.” 

You don’t want to ignore Jungkook, never in a million years. Now you know that you are envious of Doyeon, for having an opportunity to love and care for an amazing person like him. So in a sudden bout of emotion, you roll over to straddle Jungkook’s waist. 

He’s shocked, hands flying to your waist to make sure you don’t wobble off. But you’re determined, and lean down to press your lips against his. He tastes like cheesecake and strawberries, the taste melding with your own as you relish in the feeling of his soft lips against yours. You melt a little when he squeaks, breaking into a soft moan as he reciprocates the gesture. He’s warm and large and he makes you feel safe. Once your brain returns to your body, you break for air. You only pull back a few centimeters, and there’s no way for you to get off because Jungkook has locked you in place. 

“What was that for?” he asks breathlessly. 

“Don’t know,” you’re whispering against his lips, unable to pull away, “just felt like we needed a little more practice.” 

He blinks, before relaxing in a silly smile. “I agree,” he says simply, dipping you on your back so he can be on top the second time around. 

“We’re in Vegas, baby!” 

Every single terrible comedy movie set in Las Vegas has brought you to this very moment. You’ve always wanted to say that line. Dumping your luggage next to Jungkook’s, you flop on the nearest mattress. Thank goodness you only wore leggings and a t-shirt on the flight, it’s the optimal sleeping outfit after a long day. Feeling something hard and plastic dig into your brain, you hold up the culprit and squeal excitedly. “Look, Kook!” you wave the crinkly confection in your hands, “they put mints on the pillows!” 

Despite your room being a square with two queen beds, the hotel does not skimp on quality. The decor is ornate, the white and gold trim on the doorknobs and metal appliances shimmering beautifully. The beds feel like clouds, as you try to imagine what a cloud could possibly feel like, this is it. 

Jungkook immediately follows suit, ripping off his outer clothes until he’s left in his undershirt and boxers, flopping next to you on the mattress. He immediately opens his mouth when you shoot a mint, catching it easily. “I feel like we’re in a deleted scene of Crazy Rich Asians,” he says, letting the hard mint clink around his teeth, “is this the part where you tell me your family comes from old money and I’m gonna be your sugar baby?” 

“Don’t be so hopeful,” you narrow your eyes, booping his button nose with your finger. 

“I’m just saying, the first class flight threw me off.” 

You giggle, slapping his chest, “No. If that was true, we wouldn’t be sharing a room with my cousin. Sorry you have to share the bed with me, I got the hotel with Jin and he doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“S’okay,” Jungkook replies softly, leaning closer to make grabby hands at you, “you’re softer.” 

Tentatively, you scooch over so you can lean on Jungkook’s chest. You two have a little time before Doyeon and Namjoon’s combined bachelor and bachelorette party. The past two weeks have been nice—scratch that, the past two weeks with Jungkook have been wonderful. You never cared to measure how much time passed before meeting him, but now that you’ve begun fake-dating, time is the only thing you regard. You’re already beginning to miss him, knowing that in a week, this whole arrangement will be over.

Well, not exactly over. Jungkook says you’ll remain friends after this, but you don’t really want that. You want more, and it scares you to think he may not feel the same. 

But right now you’re snuggling like an old couple, sleeping comfortably between pillow-like sheets and minty breath. Your pretend boyfriend, now your pretend boyfriend with benefits, looks soft and huggable and you want to bottle up this moment forever. You say benefits because, well, the cuddling is an added bonus. Practice practice practice, Jungkook sing songs the words you used that one night under the stars, excuses to seal his lips to your lips. You’ll never argue with that. So when Jungkook’s hand tightens around your waist and pulls you closer, you relent. 

One second, you’re closing your eyes and the next, you’re waking up to Seokin’s wide eyes staring back at you. 

“Eep, you creepo!” you shriek, scrambling away from him. That’s when you realize Jungkook’s missing from bed, the scent of his laundry detergent lingering between the eggshell Egyptian cotton. 

“Jungkook’s in the shower,” Seokjin immediately reads your mind, pulling away so he can unpack his luggage. “My flight just got in two hours ago, you both were out like a light when I arrived.”

“Ugh, I’m really not ready to party.” 

“Doyeon just texted the family group chat. She reserved the rooftop, the party starts in an hour,” he talks mindlessly, rifling through his stuff. Seokjin is fiddling with his clothes, despite the fact that you know Seokjin prepares his outfits days in advance so he doesn’t have to choose. He looks concerned, pulling out a flamingo pink boardshort and setting it down on his mattress. Finally he says, “I’m worried about you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because. It’s clear that you’re starting to fall for Jungkook.” 

The words strike you straight in the place you’re trying to avoid. You’ve been living in a fantasy these past two weeks, thinly veiled by the whole reason you two are together in the first place. Doyeon’s wedding is just around the corner, and what then? 

“I’m not saying that he doesn’t feel anything for you either,” that gets your heart skipping a beat, and you secretly hold a hand to your chest under the blankets, “but do you really want to start off a relationship like this? A relationship all messy and morally objective because it’s built on revenge?” 

“Don’t worry about me,” the words easily fall from your lips, “I can take care of this.” 

“I hate it when you say that,” the words are curt and harsh against Seokjin’s plush lips, “I’m allowed to worry about you, y/n. You know why? Because, because you’re my favorite cousin too,” he bites his lip, walking over so he sits on your side of the bed. “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t worry about. I want you to be happy, I want you to stop holding in this anger you have for Doyeon and move on.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning over to press your cheek against Seokjin’s shoulder. “You’re right.” 

“For the first time in a long time, you’ve finally decided to lean on someone,” and both of you know who that someone is. “I don’t want you to lose him over some petty family issue. You should tell him how you feel.” 

“I will,” you wrap your arms around your cousin’s slim waist in a silent thanks. 

“Am I interrupting a tender family moment?” 

The two of you pull away to stare at Jungkook, leaning against the doorframe that leads to the bathroom. He’s in a plain white t-shirt and the red board shorts that you bought at the mall, cutting off mid-thigh and revealing the bulky muscle underneath. You were right, the shorts do make his thighs look thick. 

Seokjin groans exaggeratedly. “Yes, yes you did.” 

Jungkook immediately goes to replace Seokjin’s spot, and some stray droplets fall fresh from the shower due to his slicked-back hair. “Do you wanna get ready? First party’s soon.” 

“Not really,” you admit, “you’re gonna meet the family all over again.” 

“Second time’s the charm,” he winked, “I’ve already met your parents and everything. Not feeling nervous at all.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Really,” and the facade cools down a little, “well, maybe a little nervous for your Aunt Lillian. Her stares give me the heebie-jeebies.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from Aunt Lillian.” 

“God the two of you get worse every day,” Seokjin has magically changed into his shorts, tucking himself into the bed, “don’t wake me up until we pre-game.” 

Doyeon and Namjoon don’t skimp on the festivities, although in taste the ideas are Doyeon’s in its entirety. It’s lavish and colorful, with a beautiful infinity pool in the middle decorated with lavender and pink headlights. There’s a buffet table overflowing with tasty food. There’s petal pink champagne overflowing from fountains, decorated with fresh strawberries bobbing around the fizzy drink. 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon and Jungkook have been talking for well over an hour, and it’s clear how well they mesh together. Heck, you’ve accepted that Jungkook may like Namjoon more than he likes you. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle as Namjoon discusses the various genres of rap and hip-hop music, explaining the potency of mature themes in a young community, “but I will say music is like another language, knows no boundaries when it comes to sending their messages to others.” 

You fight the urge to chuckle when Jungkook sighs dreamily at the music theory professor. “Wow, that’s so deep.” 

Getting up from your cabana, you nudge Seokjin, who’s currently flirting it up with one of Doyeon’s bridesmaids. “Hey, wanna get a drink?” you ask, throwing your wrap on the cushions to reveal your strappy red bikini. 

“And chicken tenders,” Seokjin presses a kiss to the bridesmaid’s cheek, bidding her goodbye as he follows you out of the shaded area. 

“Do you two lovebirds want anything?” you stare pointedly at Namjoon and Jungkook. While Namjoon’s eyes stay in contact with you, you can’t help but smile a little more when Jungkook has a hard time keeping his gaze in one place. 

“I think we’re fine,” Namjoon answers for both of them, swirling his beer bottle. “I’ll meet you two at the bar once I’m done.” 

“Sure thing,” Seokjin puts a hand on your back to lead you to one of the open bars. As much as you like being in a handsome hotel with money to burn, nothing beats the fact that your entire family is here to celebrate. The elders have corroborated two cabanas for poker and other games, while your younger cousins are playing ping pong and air hockey on the other side. 

“Namjoon sure is a dreamboat,” Seokjin bemoans, handing you an electric orange drink. You take a sip of it, and bug out when you realize it tastes nothing like alcohol. You’re definitely in for a night. “Like I can hear him wax music thingamajib any day.” 

“I thought you were into that bridesmaid.” 

“A mere diversion,” he sighs, leaning his tanned arms against the bar, “can’t ignore the deep voice Namjoon has, it’s intoxicating.” 

“I’m sure Jungkook would agree,” you egg on. 

“What are you two talking about?” you straighten up when the man of the hour shows up at the bar, absolutely glowing under the sunset. He orders a round for the three of you, and you immediately chug your own drink to get to the next one. 

“Talking about how you’re stealing Jungkook away from me,” you joke, accepting another fruity drink from Namjoon. Damn, this stuff tastes like candy. 

“Oh, never,” Namjoon replies brightly, waving the thought away, “do you see the way he looks at you? Hopelessly in love.” 

Maybe it’s the copious amounts of alcohol, but you feel your stomach flip-flop at the thought of love. You’ve always known what love felt like, the warmth of Namjoon’s cheeks whenever he sees Doyeon, when your mom takes care of you when you’re sick, when Seokjin makes sure you’re not emotionally constipated 24/7. But the thought of Jungkook and you in love? It’s a feeling you secretly yearn for. 

“Right? It’s disgusting,” Seokjin groans with an eye roll, “like, Jungkook wasn’t like that with Doyeon at all when they were together.” 

The slip up has the three of you choking on your own thoughts, staring at each other like the three have just been told you’re on a prank show. But it is no prank, and you look at Seokjin who’s absolutely horrified. 

“Oh shit,” he squeaks, looking at Namjoon guiltily, “did I say something I shouldn’t have said?” 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon replies coolly, “did you?” 

The ominous response gets you going, and you quickly place a hand on Namjoon’s arm, placating him. “They dated, yes. But it was only for a short time and we’ve sorted everything out. Nothing for you to worry about.” 

“Oh,” Namjoon quirks his head, and regards you two with pursed lips. “I’m not one of those guys who freak out over other people’s exes. I’m just surprised that I’ve only heard this now,” Namjoon takes a slow sip of his drink, and despite your drink also being cold and refreshing, you’re absolutely sweating. 

“Well, I’m sure Doyeon didn’t want to worry you.”

At the mention of his future wife, he beams. “You’re right, she’s considerate like that,” and the conversation ends just like that. He holds up his drink to the two of you, and you and Seokjin do the same. With a sharp clink he leaves you two to mull, happily conversing with the next round of guests he needs to entertain for the week. 

“That guy is too nice for his own good,” you shake your head, asking the bartender for your third drink within ten minutes. 

Seokjin leans over you and warbles, “So you’re telling me that Namjoon has no idea that Doyeon cheated on Jungkook in order to date him?” he’s sweating just like you are, following suit to your actions and asking to make his drink a double. 

“I don’t know,” you bite your lip, your teeth worrying the dark skin, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while though. I just don’t want to get involved, you know?” 

“But this is different!” 

“But Doyeon’s family!” 

“And all of a sudden you care about Doyeon’s feelings?” Seokjin gripes back, “it’s not about Doyeon, it’s about the both of them. And if we know something that Namjoon doesn’t, wouldn’t it be in our best interests to warn him before he seals a marriage deal that costs him over a zillion dollars?” he gestures to the extravagant wedding party. 

“But we don’t even have any proof that’s the case,” you frown, “Doyeon could have changed—a little, not a lot—since meeting Namjoon, maybe she thinks it’s best to reveal as little as possible.” 

Seokjin wonders what kind of family he has. One as chaotic as his takes a lot to stomach, and Seokjin likes to pride himself in his strong appetite. “Fine, let’s just keep a close eye on both of them this week. And if anything remotely fishy happens, we strike.” 

“Deal.” 

You return to the cabana alone, with a plate of fries for both you and Jungkook. Jungkook is also alone, laying on the lounge chair with his eyes closed. It gives you a chance to ogle your fake-boyfriend a little bit, reveling in the sight of his toned body. 

Setting down your plate with a sharp rap of the glass, Jungkook opens one eye. “Hey,” he smiles, drinking in your muted expression, “you okay?”

Damn Jungkook for being able to read you so well. “I think so. It’s nothing, really.” 

“Well, will you tell me if it’s something?” 

“Yeah, I will.” 

“So, I do have something to tell you though.” Jungkook sits up, regarding you wearily. “Can you… stand in front of me?” Confused, you shove a fry in your mouth and walk up to him as directed, your back blocking the entrance as you stand in front of him. “Okay, come closer. Now bend down,” you bend your back 90 degrees, and he presses a hand to your shoulder to stop you, “no, no. With your breasts out, just a little—there! Arch your back. Like you’re doing the Sorority Squat.” 

“Excuse me—” 

“The music isn’t even that loud,” he mutters to himself, “no one would need to push their boobs in my face to hear me.” 

“Jungkook, is someone pressing boobs to your face?” 

“Why,” he breaks into a playful grin, “jealous?”

“Not if it’s Aunt Lillian.” 

“Unfortunately it wasn’t,” he twiddles with the drawstrings of his shorts. “It was Doyeon.” 

Doyeon? She didn’t walk by your cabana all day. Heck, she barely greeted you when you arrived with Jungkook. But when Jungkook’s alone is when she decides to pounce? And with what motive? 

“I don’t know,” he’s rambling to himself, “maybe I’m overthinking it. It was only half a second.” 

“Jungkook, I have something to tell you,” you say instead, panic in your features. 

“Is it something urgent?” 

“Well, no but—” 

“Then tell me when we get back to the room,” Jungkook easily pulls you onto his lap, and you instantly heat up when you feel your bare butt press against Jungkook’s golden thighs. “Like you said, we’re in Vegas. Let’s have fun while we can.” 

“Okay,” you tuck your head between his neck and collarbone, reaching to press a kiss to his smooth jawline. 

Relaxing against the plush lounge chair Jungkook feeds you fries while talking about the things he wants to do this week. It’s his first time in Vegas and he wants to make the most of it. He wants to visit all the buffets he sees on Buzzfeed compilations, relax at the pool, maybe catch a show. The thought of spending all week with him and your family is nice, and suddenly you don’t feel so awkward sitting on his lap, and eventually he pulls you between his thighs so you can lay on his chest. 

“And between you and me,” he fake whispers against the shell of your ear, as if he’s telling you the biggest secret, “we’re the hottest couple here.” 

The next three days leading up to the wedding are relatively uninteresting. 

Uninteresting in the best way possible. On Monday you and Jungkook spend time with your little cousins, taking them to The Adventuredome, one of the resort's indoor theme parks. On Tuesday you and Jungkook go shopping at the outlet malls with your parents, blowing hundreds of dollars on cheap Levis that have your luggage bursting with a new wardrobe. In between all of that Seokjin and occasionally Namjoon joins you two in your buffet journey, hitting up the top spots and filling your tummies to the brim with delicious food. 

On Wednesday, Jungkook brandishes two gold-foiled tickets in front of you, waving them around like a fan. With one finger, he pushes away your Pokémon battle, “I got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” he announces proudly, “waited in line for an hour.”

You gape, scrambling off of your bed and throwing your Nintendo Switch to the side. “Jungkook,” you marvel, “these are so expensive. How’d you manage to get a show for tonight?” 

He shrugs, “Looked around.” 

“You’ve been impulse buying a lot this week,” you tease, “like really, you don’t need three pairs of the same ripped jeans.”

“This wasn’t an impulse buy,” he says, “I’ve been looking around for shows. Just managed to pick them up today, so go get dressed for our date.”

Did Jungkook just call it a date? Giddy with excitement you throw the covers off, running into the bathroom to get ready. What a surprise, you didn’t think Jungkook would be into spontaneous things like this. 

Seokjin left the bathroom open, so when you walk in the room it is steamy and warm. Your dear cousin is still in the shower, probably waiting for his conditioner to pass three minutes of set-in time. 

“What are you getting ready for?” Seokjin asks over the rain shower.

“Kook got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” you chirp happily, looking through your skin care products. 

“I wanna come!” 

“Nope! Jungkook called it a date.” 

“Oh, a date,” Seokjin drawls, putting his head under the water to rinse his hair clean. “Well then, should I vacate the room for tonight?” 

“What, no!” you’ve closed the door, so thankfully Jungkook can’t hear you talking about him. “We’re not doing anything. We’re just two friends who are fake-dating going on a date.” 

“Sounds like a real date, though,” Seokjin wraps a towel around himself to cover all his important bits before getting out of the shower, bumping elbows with you so he can brush his teeth. “Either way, I’ll be gone tonight. It’s my turn to watch the baby cousins. Don’t have too much fun while I'm in their room watching Despicable Me for the millionth time.” 

“We’ll be sure to stop by with some pizza or something,” you tease, a little wiggle in your hips when you vacate the bathroom. 

By the time you and Jungkook are ready, you two are dressed impeccably. Jungkook is wearing one of the ripped black jeans he bought on Tuesday, combined with a white button up and black blazer. A classic outfit with a little bit of Jungkook-themed flair. And to Jungkook’s surprise, you’re wearing the dress that he first saw you in, all those years ago. You’ve gained a little weight since college, but you still fill out the little black dress beautifully, the little white bow in the middle adding a simple yet adorable touch. It took a little sleuthing and searching through your old college clothes, but you were determined to find it when Jungkook reminded you how much you love the design. 

Clearly from the way Jungkook is currently gaping at you like a bloated fish, he loves it too. 

The show is beautiful and colorful, leaving you speechless and in tears by the end of it. Jungkook lets you hold his hand the entire time, feeling a bout of anxiety anytime the acrobats fall gracefully despite the large height. 

Overall, it was a wonderful show, paired with your equally enamouring date. It’s getting harder and harder to distinguish what’s fake and what’s real in your heart, and throughout the night you’re sorely reminded that you should tell Jungkook how you feel. 

But by the time you get to the room your parents are calling you, asking to get their suit and dresses out of the car so hotel service can do a last minute press and dry clean. 

“I’ll be back,” you say to Jungkook, “I need to go get their clothes out of the car. They’re always so forgetful.” 

“Want me to come?” he offers, hand shying away from inserting the keycard in. 

“No, I’ll only be fifteen minutes, tops.”

“So I guess this is this the part where I get a goodnight kiss?” he asks cheekily, leaning on his heels so his tall frame reaches yours. You don’t hesitate to give a short peck to his pretty pink lips. He pouts at the brevity, “that was too quick.” 

“Go inside,” you insist, “the sooner you get ready for bed the sooner I can get ready for bed.” 

“Then more kisses?” 

“Then more kisses.” 

Jungkook breaks into an all-teeth smile, unable to control himself when he dips down and steals a longer, more lingering kiss to your lips. “I had a great time tonight,” he says, mimicking every single teenage rom-com protagonist who’s deeply in love with the popular jock. “Don’t take too long, okay?” 

You nod, pushing him inside, “C’mon, if you stopped talking I’d be back by now!” 

Once the door closes shut, you let yourself do a little dance in the hallway, wiggling your butt and giving yourself a mini-celebration. You quickly text your group chat that you just came back from the Cirque show.

Jimin: what, a date with your fake date?

Hobi: jeon jungcock? 👀👀

Jimin: whaaaaaattttt. U’ve gotta have sat in his lap at least. 3 times since you’ve started this ting

Hobi: i’ve heard things in college… 

Taehyung: u are all gross and i hate u 

Taehyung: but so am i bc im very curious 

Just as you’re about to send a heated reply, the elevator dings, revealing a pissed off Doyeon. She’s bare-faced, in a fluffy lilac bath robe and matching puff ball slippers. You slip in right beside her, making sure there’s a comfortable amount of space between you two. 

“You’re going to the parking garage too?” you ask, eyes lingering on the lit button. 

“Yeah,” she’s looking at her phone, a few stray hairs from her mahogany bun falling onto her forehead, “Aunt Lillian left her medication in the car. I don’t know why she has to send me, I’m busy getting married.” 

“My parents left their formal clothes in the car,” you shrug, “you know, my parents and Aunt Lillian share the same brain cell. Gotta help them out once in a while.”  

The icy silence in the elevator is probably the calmest you and Doyeon have been since you’ve announced your relationship status with Jungkook. You fight the sigh, opting to take out your phone and open some unread messages. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: hurry up, the bed’s cold without u 

You: lool, why do u look constipated 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: because i am, hurry up. Im bringing ur switch to the toilet and playing on your profile 

You: JEON WAIT YAMPERS AT 5HP GO TO THE POKEMON CENTER U HEATHEN

You tilt your head a centimeter, feeling Doyeon breathing down your neck like Puff the Magic Dragon. You look at her with wide eyes. Her long, slender neck manages to snake its way next to your head, “Can I help you?” you ask amusedly, clutching your phone to your chest. 

“Are you two really together?” she asks, batting her lashes. All this week she’s left you alone, and you’ve been wondering when she’s going to make herself known. It’s a little self-absorbed you have to admit, but ever since Namjoon’s ignorance to Doyeon’s previous relationship, you’ve been on edge. 

“Of course we are,” you spit back, “I love him.” 

And you must be very convincing, because Doyeon’s gaze falters just a fraction. You glare at her, staking your claim. Ever since Jungkook told you the reason Doyeon hates you is because she’s jealous, you’ve started to feel a bit of sympathy for her. Doyeon is beautiful and smart, she has no reason to feel this way. But the brain holds fickle thoughts sometimes, bringing darkness to the mind. 

“He loved me first,” she bites back, lifting her chin. 

“And why do you care?” you laugh tonelessly. The elevator dings open, and you’re met with the open air and concrete of the parking garage. “He may have loved you first, but he’ll love me last.” 

You leave the elevator first, a little pep in your step as you make your way to the rental car to gather your parent’s things. While the words you uttered are white in nature and may not hold any sort of weight to them, it manages to bring Doyeon to her knees, absolutely quaking in the elevator. 

You’re tasting revenge, and it’s sweet. 

“Okay, you need to leave,” Seokjin pulls away the shot glass from your lips, “I didn’t spend days planning the itinerary for you to mess it up. Bridal party in Doyeon’s suite and the groom’s party in Namjoon’s parents suite.” 

“That’s dumb,” you chastise, crossing your arms, “we’re all meeting at the same club at 10. Why can’t we pre-party together?” 

“Because it’s tradition!” 

“Screw tradition,” you stumble on your heels as you purse your lips at Jungkook, “Kook, when we get married I don’t wanna do a whole boy-and-girl party. We’re equals, right?” 

“Of course, baby,” he cooes, being careful not to smudge your makeup when he presses his lips to the crown of your head. “But for the sake of Seokjin’s sanity, you should probably go to Doyeon’s. It’ll only be an hour or two.” 

You gasp exaggeratedly at the blatant betrayal. He only grins cheekily in response, dipping down to press a wet kiss to your cheek. “Fine,” you cross your arms, snatching back your drink from Seokjin’s grasp to knock it down. 

Leaving the bachelor pre-party pains you considerably. They’re having such a good time joking around the suite, telling each other fun stories and relaxing in chairs as they watch TV. This is your kind of crowd, not to mention that you can peacefully check out Jungkook’s ass in those tight dress pants without any crazy club lights distorting your vision.

From past family party experience you already have a feeling what’s coming for you in the ladies’ suite. 

Loud music pours from Doyeon’s suite, and it’s completely unlocked. The bridal party is raving, ten seconds away from being completely drunk and immobile. The lights are being manually shut on and off like some sort of cheap rager, and you have to tell Yoojung to tone it down before you get a seizure. 

The stench of acidic drinks and the tang of alcoholic air is palpable, and instead of a shot you opt for a glass of peach champagne to slow you down. 

As you walk deeper into the suite, you notice a crowd forming by the balcony. Tapping your cousin Nari on the shoulder, you regard her with a hug and kiss. “What’s going on over there?” you ask, heels not helping you see any better. 

Nari’s all blushy and pink, hiccuping as she gestures to the balcony. “Her maid of honor got Doyeon a very special gift!” 

Managing to weave through the women blocking your view, you fight the urge to gag when you have a clear view of the scene in front of you.

You really don’t understand the purpose of bachelor and bachelorette parties. “One night to be single all over again!” they all say, even though they’re not actually single? Like why does the couple suddenly get one night of forgiveness when you’ve already spent years being in a committed relationship? 

Why is it okay that Doyeon’s dry humping a stripper on the balcony? Her white silk dress is ruched dangerously high, soon close to flashing her family. Aunties and friends and the like are cheering her on, and she flips her head perfectly to all the phones shoved in their faces, making sure to get the perfect angle. 

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back in the hopes that your other family members would be willing to have a good old-fashioned tip back with you. 

You squeal when your hands accidentally land on a bare, oiled chest. You look up, mortified at the large man covered in black harnesses. “Hey babe, I’m Wonho,” he says, faking a sultry gaze as he looks at you up and down, “you’re part of the bridal party too? Wanna dance?” 

Feeling naked, you push past him, careful not to get anything on your dress. Wonho? Wonno.

Jungkook loves your family. 

(Except Doyeon.)

As much as he told you not to worry about him, and he’ll be completely fine when he meets your family, he couldn’t help be a little wary on the flight over. After all, it’s been two years and he didn’t know how things would be different. 

Chaoticism and all, your family is a thing to be cherished. Even though Yoongi has been on mood swings that make Jungkook question his sanity from time to time, and Seokjin is secretly breathing down Jungkook’s back every time he so glances at you, he thinks things are right where they should be.  

But despite all that they regarded him with familiarity, hugged and kissed him like old friends, something is different. They’ve turned over a new page for him. They don’t bring up Doyeon. They ask about his family, his job, his life in the city. They ask about how you and Jungkook met, and how happy they are for you. How happy they are for him.

Oh, how he wishes everything could be different. In another world, you two would already be together. 

He wasn’t lying back at the cabana when he said you two are the hottest couple at the resort, including the bridal party (but don’t tell Namjoon). You look absolutely stunning in your sparkly red dress, accentuating all the right parts and lighting up the whole room. 

When he finds you in the club you’re sitting down with your Aunties, keeping the elders company while the younger ones are flagging down the bartenders. He thinks it’s cute, how well you fit in between them, coddling you like you’re still a child in their eyes. 

“Dear, your boyfriend is here!” your one Aunt yells over the loud EDM.

You lift your head up quickly, giving him the prettiest smile. Your teeth glow purple under the neon lights, and he fights the urge to laugh when he holds out a hand. “Mind if I steal her from you?” 

“Of course, she’s gotta live a little!” 

You pout, a little wobbly but nevertheless still in the right mind as you shuffle out of the booth to meet his awaiting arms. “Hey handsome,” your voice is thick and sweet-smelling, “come here often?” 

“Only when my girlfriend does,” he replies cheekily, hands immediately coming to your butt to smooth out your dress. He shys a bit when your Aunties hoot and holler at his public display of affection, but all he wants to do was pull the hem down a little bit. No way is he going to let anyone get a flash of your goods. 

“Let’s dance!” you take your hand in his, leading him to a comfortable corner of the dance floor. 

Clubs aren’t really your scene, aligning with Jungkook’s sentiments towards the loud generic music and terrible smell. But you’re in Vegas, and he feels that it’s all part of the package to experience the nightlife at least once. He puts his hands on your waist and you giggle like you’re in prom, hands coming to rest on the collar of his button down. 

“Hey,” he says with a lopsided smirk, “wanna make out?” 

 “Sure,” he notices that you don’t even check if anyone’s seeing, and it makes his heart flutter when you don’t hesitate to get on your tiptoes to meet him halfway. 

He’s always hoped for a moment like this, a moment where the room stops spinning and both your minds click into place. It’s almost comical, how he distinctly notes that the music fades once his lips touch yours. The kiss is hot, yet intimate. Even though he makes excuses to kiss you all the time because of practice, it goes to show that you two definitely never needed it. Your tiny hands grip the collar of his button down, bringing you two impossibly close despite the hot air. His larger hands grip at the strings that hold your measly dress together, grappling at any excuse to get to your soft skin. The two of you are a natural when it comes to each other’s intimacy. 

The two of you pull away, mesmerized. You haven’t kissed like that before. He melts under your stare, his thumb reaching to nick off any lip gloss that’s moved in the process. 

Seokjin comes down the floor to haul you both by the shoulders, “C’mon lovebirds, they’re taking wedding shots!” 

The two of you follow your cousin to the crowd of people that is your family, already with their own drinks in hand. Doyeon and Namjoon are sitting atop the bar, making a very loud toast that consisted of a quick “thank you!” and “we love you!” before downing their drinks with their arms linked together. The room is thrumming with excitement for tomorrow’s festivities, and surprisingly, you and Jungkook included. He tucks himself in your body like a puzzle piece, hugging you from behind while he watches Namjoon’s eyes sparkle with love under the neons. 

The nightclub gets a little blurry after that, with the copious amounts of alcohol and shameless actions from your family and friends. By the time it’s twelve Jungkook notices you swaying at a rate that you can’t handle. He knows your limits and knows when you have to urge to pee every five minutes, it’s time to go. With a chaste kiss you leave him at the bar, deciding to make a pitstop to the bathroom before telling Jungkook you want to head up.

You’re locked in a stall when you hear Yoojung’s voice. 

“Ugh,” she groans, voice echoing through the tiny room. “Jungkook is so sexy. Do you see the way he’s dancing out there? He’s a literal babe magnet, I can’t believe he ended up with someone like y/n.” 

You don’t move a muscle, pressing your ear against the door that hides you. The silly slander isn’t news to you, Doyeon has been feeding her friends all sorts of bullcrap so they wouldn’t bother talking to you. 

“Yeah, Jungkook’s a real treat but he dated Doyeon first. Sounds like she’s into sloppy seconds,” Elly replies, another bridesmaid you’ve met in passing. “But I don’t know, they do look happy together.”

“Please, I’m sure Jungkook’s just using her so he can get one more chance at Doyeon before she ties the knot,” you bristle, the thought of Jungkook still having feelings for Doyeon makes your heart thud painfully against your chest, “like, what a downgrade. Namjoon and Doyeon do not deserve this drama. If Jungkook ever liked Doyeon at all, he wouldn’t have come. Period.” 

You slam the door open, causing Elly to squeal and Yoojung’s YSL lipstick to fall onto the sink. You’re the epitome of relaxation, walking towards the sink to wash your hands. The bridesmaids simply stare at you, unable to formulate a comeback. When you finally dry your hands, you say your next words. 

“Jungkook is here because he loves me,” an act act act. This is all an act. You shouldn’t be this offended because you know it’s all false. “And you’re wrong. It’s not Jungkook that doesn’t deserve Doyeon. Jungkook was too good for Doyeon.” 

And you slam your heels against the tile, stilettos pounding to the beat of the music. Your exit is full of anger and frustration as you ignore the burn in your step and the ache in your heart, flagging the first bartender you see to get you a double. 

Shot for shot, that anger soon melts into guilt as Yoojung’s words sink in. The thought of Jungkook using you to get to Doyeon is terrible, you can barely stomach the thought. But that’s exactly what you’re doing, right? You’re using Jungkook to get back at Doyeon. 

Why did you even want to get back at Doyeon anymore? Why do you have to prove anything to her? If she just continues to push you around, isn’t that more on her than it is on you? 

Jungkook soon finds you after you’ve nursed a few drinks, leaning unceremoniously against a barstool. His eyes widen at your state, and he immediately sheds his jacket to wrap it around your waist. 

“Why did you drink so much?” he chastises, “it’s the night before the wedding.” 

“Jungkookie,” you warble, clutching your stomach, “I don’t feel so good.” 

He sighs, bending down. “Get on my back. Make sure the jacket covers you up, okay?” 

He doesn’t even grunt when you put all your weight on him, feeling like a ragdoll as he hoists you up. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting him carry you to your room. Most of the older family already went upstairs to sleep, so none of your cousins could care less when they see you get hauled away by Jungkook. 

You inhale, he smells like sweat and cologne. “I like putting my head between your neck,” you babble, and you feel Jungkook chuckle through his chest, “you smell so nice there. It’s the bestset! Comfiest place ever, ‘specially when m’sleepy.” 

“Are you sleepy now, baby?” You love how smooth the petname falls from his lips. 

“I will be when we get upstairs,” you reply, happy to see the elevator is empty. “I’m just all up in my head.” 

“Is that why you were drinking so much? You said you were gonna stop earlier.” 

“Yeah, but,” you shamefully tuck your head in his shoulder, “I was frustrated.” 

“Frustrated? At who?” concern laces his tone as he struggles to hold you with one hand and fumble for his key in the other. You tighten your legs around his slim waist until the door clicks open, and he immediately walks over to your bed to plop you down. “Babe, are you crying?” he finally has a good look at your face, horrified to see the streaks of tears mixed with mascara running down your face. 

“I wa-was jealous,” you confess tearily, clutching your face in your hands,  “some girls in the bathroom were calling you sexy and that you were only here so you could try to win over Doyeon. I know it sounds ridiculous and you would never do that but. The thought of you getting back with her makes me so jealous and I hate it! I’m starting to feel so guilty about this, all of this. I put all of this on ourselves and I’m ruining it.” 

“Ruining what? You’re not making any sense.” Jungkook places a hand on your knee, crouching down so he can look up at you. 

“I’m ruining us,” you gush despondently, “I’m ruining any potential of us before we even start.” 

Jungkook freezes, hand clutching your knee like a lifeline. The potential of you two together? You’ve thought of that? Jungkook didn’t drink much tonight, so his mind is definitely running on all cogs. 

Coming to a conclusion, he rubs slow, soothing circles on your knee, his other hand reaching up to wipe the tears from your face. “You’re not ruining anything,” he declares firmly, “that’s impossible. I may have agreed to fake-date you because of Doyeon, but I stayed because of you.” 

His heart aches seeing you so upset, and he decides to take initiative to get you out of your clothing and ready for bed. You don’t have any words, opting to let Jungkook take care of you as you try to calm yourself down. He finds a spare t-shirt,  a long one so you’ll be comfortable. He doesn’t bat an eye when he unzips your dress, in favor of balling up the shirt and getting you clothed as fast as possible. He rifles through the bathroom to find your makeup wipes, and he’s gentle when he scrubs up the once pretty makeup you spent half an hour doing. Barefaced and fresh, you look sleepy and ready to crash. 

But before Jungkook can tuck you in, you clutch his arm.

“Jungkook,” you murmur sleepily, “I think I lo—” 

“I know, baby,” he doesn’t want a confession like this, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want it either. You still look a little green and you’re not sober, so he makes the executive decision to pin these feelings for later. “I’m not trying to invalidate you, I promise. I want you to tell me this, all of this in the morning. We’ll talk then.”

“Okay,” you melt in the sheets, pulling the blankets up to your chest. When you see Jungkook move away from the bed, you jolt, “Where are you going?” 

Jungkook smiles, reaching over to tuck you back in, “I left my blazer in Namjoon’s room. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

He walks out of your room as quietly as he can, making sure to close the door slowly. Once it’s sealed shut, he leaps up, giving himself a silent cheer as he bounds down the hall. You like him back! 

The smile on his face is tired but full of fervor as he makes his way to Namjoon and Doyeon’s suite. He doesn’t even care that he probably has to talk to Doyeon to get his jacket back, thoughts filled with the excitement of his requited feelings and going back to his room to cuddle up with you. 

He doesn’t even have to knock when the large double doors swing open. Dumbfounded, he looks down at Doyeon, wearing a tiny black nightie and dangling his jacket with one finger. It’s an outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination, and he feels his neck heat up at the feeling he’s encroaching on an intimate moment. 

“You left this,” she says slowly, a tiny smirk on her lips. 

“Uh, thanks,” he says, making sure not to touch her when he grabs his blazer. 

In her other hand she holds up her room’s designated ice bucket. “Could you also get me some ice, please? Namjoon’s fast asleep and I really don’t want to walk out all… exposed.” 

He swallows his sigh, knowing it’s going to take significantly longer to get back to you when Doyeon drawls like this. “Of course,” he replies tersely, “after all, you are the bride.” 

“Thanks, Jungkookie.” 

He makes quick work of getting Doyeon the ice, pumping his long legs down the hall. The ice room is cold and cramped, barely enough for his tall frame to fit in. He jabs the container in the holder, pressing the button ten times per second to get as much ice out as possible. 

As soon as he turns around with the ice, he drops the whole bucket. 

Like glass, it shatters onto the ground, hundreds of little clear pebbles skimming across the floor like marbles. Doyeon’s pushing Jungkook against the ice machine, freshly manicured hands splayed across his chest. Her body is flush against his, making sure that he feels all of her with her thin silk gown. 

“What the fuck, Doyeon get off of me!” a little part of him hopes she’ll come to her senses on her own so he doesn’t have to put his hands on her. 

“C’mon, Kookie,” her voice is a sickly candy sweet, her eyes wide with hunger as she takes in his form, “just one more night, you and me. Like old times. One more night before I tie the knot.” 

“You’re crazy,” he balks, running his hand through his hair, “this is sexual harassment, do you know that?” 

“You don’t mean that, Kookie,” Doyeon dips a red-tipped nail down his chest, “why settle for someone like y/n when I’m right here?” 

He grabs her wrists, firm. She winces at the contact, but doesn’t say anything when Jungkook delivers her a scary glare. It gets her quiet, fearful of this version of Jungkook. Doyeon’s never seen Jungkook like this before, so unwilling to bend at her whim and emanating all his power against her. 

“Why settle for your cousin?” he whispers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “because, I love her.” 

Her lip curls in disgust, nails digging into the palm of his hand. “But you loved me first.”

“And I’ll love her last,” he spits pack, letting go of her. His anger splits for a brief second, regarding Doyeon with sorrow, “this is low, even for you.”

Jungkook pushes past the ice, wobbling out of the ice room. He doesn’t look back, he just knows that he needs you right now. He needs to tell you everything, figure out a plan to cancel the wedding or something. 

But when he crashes inside the room, you’re dead asleep. He can’t find the courage to wake up Seokjin as well, who returned and is sleeping in his club outfit. He groans, feeling useless as he stares at the two of you, ignorant of what just conspired ten minutes ago. 

And Namjoon, what is he going to tell Namjoon? Poor guy doesn’t deserve any of this. 

Walking up to your side of the bed, he tucks your loose hair behind your ear. You look so peaceful now, so beautiful. 

It’s just going to have to wait until the morning. 

The morning of the wedding, you wake up alone. 

The first thought that runs through your head is that Jungkook has rejected you. The little, insecure bug that will never go away in your brain fills you with rash thoughts. He’s on a flight half way back home and he regrets this whole week. 

But after that exaggeration, you notice two aspirin and a bottle of water on your nightstand, along with your phone that’s fully charged. 

You pull up the screen to check the dozens of messages that flood your app. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: morning babe, im sorry i had to leave early. Namjoon showed up at our door freaking out that his suit is the wrong fit and shade. Now im running around vegas trying to find a replacement that doesn’t look like an elvis presley extra

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: but i didn’t forget what you said last night, i promise! Just go get ready and i’ll meet u at the chapel outside the resort. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: i also have something to say to you

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: wow i didn’t realize how ominous that sounds. Dw, everything will be fine

When someone tells you something will be fine, it’s a universal agreement that no, things will not be fine. 

So you get dressed, and put on your makeup mindlessly. You don’t really know what to make of Jungkook’s cryptic message, but you decide to leave those thoughts in the back of your mind as you go to the other rooms to help your family get ready. 

Seokjin is busy tying the ring bearer’s tie, looking handsome with his slicked back hair and polished grey suit. “Morning, cousin,” he sing-songs, “you look beautiful today!”

You smooth out your dress, a cascading silver number with starry sparkles. You feel like you’re living out your magical girl fantasies, wrapped up in layers of tulle and a sparkly sweetheart bodice.

“Right back at you. Say, you didn’t see Jungkook this morning, did you?” 

“No, but I heard he’s with Namjoon hunting for a new suit. Why?” 

“Nothing,” you lean against the guest table, “he just said something really ominous over text.” 

“I will never get a peaceful day so long as I’m in this family,” he says this directly to the ring bearer, a toddler who’s obviously confused at his uncle’s weird sayings. 

Your phone beeps conveniently, displaying Jungkook’s name. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: just got his suit. We’ll be there in fifteen. Meet me at the garden behind the chapel, please. It’s urgent 

Now you’re just worried. So you tell Seokjin your sentiments, and that he should have his phone on hand in case you needed him. With a confused nod, you leave him to go down to the garden.  

The groomsmen and bridesmaids are already at the chapel taking pictures. Only the wedding party is really allowed at this time, but you manage your way through the gardens virtually undetected. Jungkook’s already waiting for you, hiding under a white gazebo overlooking the hotel’s fountain. 

He looks gorgeous in his all black pinstripe suit, hair pushed back and pants fitted perfectly around his waist and thighs. When he sees you he gets up, full of skittish energy. You note that his hair isn’t even styled, only washed and curling slightly at the ends, as if he’s in a rush.

“W-wow,” he marvels when you rush up to him, “you look gorgeous.” 

You drop the handful of silver tulle, letting it fall to the floor. “Jungkook,” you clasp his hand in both of his, guilt flooding your eyes. You’ve been thinking about this all morning, and you need to cut to the chase. Jungkook tries to open his mouth but you silence him with a finger on his lips. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I know this sounds really stupid and you probably don’t want anything to do with me after this, but I shouldn’t have made this elaborate scheme,” you bite your lip, feeling even more antsy as Jungkook squirms in his grip. He however, is trying very hard to focus with his eyes, confused at your sudden confession. “I like you, Jungkook. I don’t want to parade you around like a revenge plot anymore, it isn’t fair and it’s wrong in so many ways—” 

“That’s great,” he says simply, brown eyes swirling with thoughts, “um, ditto. But—”

“Wow,” you frown, “I pour my heart out to you and this is what I get?” 

“It’s great that you want to be selfless right now,” Jungkook takes your hand, firm and tight, “but without this elaborate scheme, we wouldn’t be saving asses like we are right now.”

“What are you talking about?” You thought Jungkook rushed you down here so you could talk about each other’s feelings before the wedding. 

“Doyeon just threw herself on me last night. I got her ice and she took that as an invitation to seduce me like an episode of Sex and the City. Namjoon needs to divorce her, like yesterday.” 

Your face then morphs into something dark and ugly, and you fling your whole confession out the window. The thought of Doyeon going as far as throwing herself on Jungkook as a last ditch attempt to get back at you, has you seeing blood red. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!”

“You were asleep!” he shoots back, putting his hands on your shoulders. He rubs warm strokes up and down your bare arms, “please relax. You’re shaking.” 

“And why didn’t you tell Namjoon when you were driving around all morning?”

“I tried to!” he retorts, hands swinging in the air. You huff when his hands land back on your shoulders, preventing you from running to the chapel to extract Doyeon out yourself, “but he just kept talking shit about how much he loves Doyeon and he can’t imagine being together with anyone but her and I felt so bad! I’m sorry I chickened out. I really don’t wanna be the one to break Namjoon’s heart. I’m just the plus one!” 

You pinch your brows, mulling it over. “Fuck it, let’s crash a wedding,” you declare, “where’s Namjoon and how can we get him alone?” 

Jungkook exhales, a hand carding up to loosen his thin silver tie. “He’s taking pictures with the groomsmen right now. It’s gonna be awhile before we get a chance to talk.” 

“Fuck,” you curse, sitting down on the white bench. Jungkook presses soothing circles on your back. “We have no choice, we have to get to him before the ceremony starts.” 

“You’ll have to get through me, first.” 

Doyeon’s not even in her wedding dress when she strides up to the two of you. She’s in ballet flats with her hair and makeup done, but the only thing she’s wearing is the thin underdress of her actual ball gown, a simple silk negligee that reaches her ankles. You don’t even know how she’s managed to escape the bridal party, especially without her dress. 

Feeling protective, you step in front of Jungkook. “Before you say anything,” you murmur, “I’m not ruining your wedding, and I never wanted to. You’re ruining it because of your mistakes.” 

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, playing with her nails, “I didn’t even do anything wrong, everyone knows that on the bachelorette’s night she can do whatever she wants. Namjoon could’ve fucked whoever too if he wasn’t so faithful.” 

“Namjoon is ten times the partner you are and would never do that,” You’re seeing red, unable to comprehend the complete garbage spilling from Doyeon’s lips. “You touched my boyfriend without his consent, and I will never forgive you for that,” your voice is scarlet, angry and thin. 

“It’s not like he isn’t used to it, I—”

“NO!” the sound that comes out of your mouth has all three of you flinching, and you’re thankful the gazebo is far enough so that the rest of the wedding party is oblivious to your actions. “You’re not allowed to justify yourself anymore, Doyeon. What you did was fucked up, what you’ve done to all of us is fucked up!” You realize now that you didn’t need to get back at Doyeon with a fake date, what you needed was this. You needed a reprieve, a chance to lay down your law. “Jungkook was right all along. You are jealous. You’re jealous and selfish and have no shame. You think you own whatever you set your eyes on, but you’re wrong. We’re not objects, we’re people.” 

You walk up to Doyeon, eye to eye. You jab a hand at her chest, pushing her back slightly. You soak up your cousin’s expression, and you watch as Doyeon’s eyes pop out in surprise at your act of boldness. “So you have a choice here. You can either swallow your pride and leave Namjoon at the aisle quietly and save whatever dignity you have left. Take your pathetic ass on the next flight back home and pack up your apartment. Or, we can start a big scene at your ceremony,” you probably look manic, filled with freshly injected power, “I know Seokin’s always wanted to yell ‘I object!’ at a wedding.” 

“You have no proof,” Doyeon glares right back, taking a step closer to you. Your noses are practically touching, but you dig your heels in the white-stained wood, puffing up your chest and standing your ground. 

“Doesn’t matter,” you bite back, “what matters is that Namjoon will doubt you. Namjoon knows we’d never do anything to sabotage a wedding without a valid reason. Even if you do get married tonight, we have Jungkook’s word and proof of a relationship that overlaps with his. I find this option to be far worse because it’s prolonging the inevitable,” you shrug, “I hope you two didn’t sign a prenup.”  

Hot, angry tears mess up her meticulously done makeup. Black rivers carve through her porcelain skin, showing the feelings that have been dormant since been hidden under a facade. Doyeon’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. She’s practically vibrating in combined fear and rage, seeing blurry images and memories and regrets of what could’ve been if not for her self-absorption. And finally, your cousin comes to a decision. 

“I hate you,” she emphasizes each word with the most concentrated of venoms in her tone. WIth one last look at the two of you, she stomps away. Instead of going to the direction of the chapel however, she takes the shortcut back to the hotel. 

Her grave words are unsurprising, but nevertheless disappointing. A thinly veiled smile grazes your lips, sadder than ever as you watch your cousin go. “And I pity you.” 

As soon as she’s gone Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hugging you tightly as you fight the urge to cry again. “Oh babe, that was really hot. The way you stood your ground? That was amazing!” Jungkook takes out his silver pocket square to wipe the stray tears that threaten to ruin your makeup. “You’re so strong, don’t you know that? You did it and I’m so proud of you.” 

As much as you want to revel in the affection, go back and bed and fall asleep until noon, you can’t.  Grasping Jungkook by the hand, you tug him to the chapel. “C’mon,” you say, “we have to corner Namjoon.”

The groomsmen photos are done by the time you get there. Thankfully, the to-be-groom doesn’t look too occupied. His eyes widen upon seeing you two stumble from the garden of all places.

“Oh, y/n. Jungkook,” Namjoon tilts his head curiously at how winded you two look, equally flushed and out of breath. From your state, Namjoon muses that it must've taken a lot of effort to finally get to the groom unattended, save for a few random family members he’s making small talk with, “The wedding isn’t for another hour but I must say, you two look radiant together. Doyeon always thought you’d end up an old spinster-catlady, but I always told her that you’re too beautiful to be single for long,” he pauses to send the aforementioned man a wink, “Jungkook’s a lucky guy. What were you two doing back there?”

“Uh, things?” Jungkook scratches the back of his head, not wanting to reiterate the fiasco between Doyeon moments before.

Namjoon smirks at the ebony-haired man, “Couple things?”  

You can’t take this needless small talk anymore. With a teary groan, you throw yourself at Namjoon. You hug him tight, and you don’t even care when you feel a slosh of his water bottle sprinkle your hairstyle. 

“Joonie,” you bemoan, “please, please don’t leave me. You’re the best not-cousin ever. I know it’ll be a pain to face Doyeon after today but you’re a strong independent man and when you’re ready Jin is single and ready to mingle—ow! Jungkook! Did you just pinch my ass?” 

“Do you really think setting him up with the next cousin is the best idea right now?”

“I figured a little humor would lighten the blow,” you sulk.

“I’m sorry what—what blow?” Namjoon frowns, pushing you away from him. “Y/n, have you been crying?” 

The tears resurface at that moment, like a kettle on overboil. Namjoon’s face is knitted together, unable to grasp at any conclusion. Namjoon feels something grave is upon the sky as he tenderly brushes away your tears with his thumbs before releasing you. Instantly Jungkook pulls you to his chest, patting you soothingly. As much as you two do not want to be the bearer of bad news, the time is now. 

“Namjoon,” Jungkook says, finding the strength that was previously stuck in his throat, “we have to tell you something.” 

Needless to say, Las Vegas is very forgiving when it comes to last minute wedding cancellations. 

The whole wedding party, both Namjoon and yours, collectively feels like a whole ice bucket has been dumped upon your families. You would like to say that the whole issue was handled mess free, but that would be a bald-faced lie. 

There was screaming, crying, hysterical laughter from all sides. Doyeon’s parents were of course furious, embarrassed, unable to calm down a hysterical Doyeon as they haul her on the next flight home. You have a feeling they won’t be showing up to family events anytime soon. 

Namjoon’s family leaves quietly, frustrated, but classy. After all, they know at the back of their heads they dodged a bullet. Everyone leaves except Namjoon however, who isn’t quite ready to go back to his and Doyeon’s apartment. Namjoon invites Seokjin and some other close cousins to stay in his suite until their flight tomorrow afternoon, wanting to be surrounded by close friends and (almost) family. 

As for your family, they decide to find the silver lining. While the chapel was able to cancel the wedding, the reception wasn’t as easy to sway. At the very last second, your grandparents decided to make use of the reception and renew their Golden Anniversary vows instead. The ceremony will be a quick, sweet affair. At this very moment, your cousin Yoongi is getting officiated online. 

And for you? You’re in the place where you’ve wanted to remain all week. A fluffy hotel bed wrapped up with your not-boyfriend. 

Or? 

Would a not-boyfriend be snuggling against your chest like you’re the softest teddy bear in the toy shop? Would a not-boyfriend be hooking your leg atop his lap, forcing you to latch onto him so his hands can roam freely against your soft thighs? 

“We have to get ready for the wedding,” you whine against his hold, to no avail when he only holds you tighter. 

“But your grandparents are already married,” Jungkook whines right back, nuzzling his nose in your head. “This is like an afterparty fifty years later.” 

“I wanna get dressed,” you insist, pushing yourself up, “and we still need to talk.” 

Without Seokjin staying with you, the hotel room feels much bigger and freer for the two of you. Your clothes are scattered on the floor, uncaring of any wrinkles or smears that would get on the delicate fabric. 

All that matters is that Jungkook is still here with you. Doyeon’s wedding is called off, but he’s still lying in bed with you. You want to burn this image to memory, and keep it forever. Jungkook laying in only his white undershirt and boxers, looking at you dreamily as if he’s still in nap-mode. Hair that was previously windswept and exposing his forehead is now out of place, fluffy and sticking out in all directions. His cheeks are flushed with coral-colored warmth, and a little puffy because you two have been sleeping most of the afternoon. 

“Right, talk,” he repeats, letting you hand him his black button up so he can clothe himself. 

You throw off your shirt somewhere behind you, not wanting to face him as you walk to the full-length mirror. “So, I think my feelings for you are pretty clear and out in the open…” 

“Same, I think I made it pretty clear as well.” 

“What? You turn around, looking at where he’s still half-covered in bed. “You did not. I distinctly remember almost confessing my love to you last night. And then this morning, only for you to cut me off and say ‘that’s great’.” 

“Oh,” he stares at the white sheets that cover his lower half. “I guess I didn’t then.” 

You smile wryly, turning back to face the mirror so you can slip into your dress that’s been pooled around your ankles like a silver halo. “Maybe you thought it in your mind and forgot to tell me.” 

That seems about right. Jungkook has a tendency to be a little too passionate for his own good, windswept in thoughts and feelings until they consume him. He hops out of bed, walking only in his dress shirt and socks as he makes his way to the mirror. “Then let me do all the talking,” he says softly against your neck, hands on your hips. 

You shiver when you feel the cold silver of the zipper whirr up your body, Jungkook’s large hands splaying across your back to smooth out the waistline. 

“You of all people would know that being with Doyeon is a trip,” he chuckles into the crook of your neck, “I thought that was what love felt like. Being codependent, jumping through hurdles, trying so hard to please someone who can’t be pleased.” 

Jungkook’s hands wrap around your waist, hugging you tightly. He squeezes you and holds you like the most precious thing in the entire world. Through the mirror, you two are quite a pair. 

“But with you, I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.” 

“So… are you saying you love me?” you fight the urge to bounce around in his grip, the biggest smile on your face.  

“You really just want me to say ‘I love you’ and be done with it, huh?” 

Within seconds he’s pulling you from behind, whirling you around to the edge of the bed. He manages to flouce up your skirts to billow around his lap, sitting you down on his bare thighs. 

“You look like a cupcake, all sprawled up like this,” Jungkook says cutely, peppering kisses in a trail from your chest all the way to your lips. “You look like a huge, silvery cupcake and I love you. It’s so easy to love you.” 

Maybe it was kismet that Jungkook didn’t get to you first all those years ago. Maybe the right time is right here, right now. 

“I love you, too,” you say happily, dipping down to press a long, passionate kiss to his lips. He tastes like love and a happy future. When you pull away, you encapsulate his face in both your palms, regarding him like the sun and stars. “But you know, if we date you’ll never get away from my crazy family.” 

Jungkook snorts, pressing his forehead to yours, “And miss Yoongi re-marrying off your grandparents tonight, the next year of Seokjin and Namjoon running circles around each other, and a lifetime of happiness?” his hands snake under your dress, finding purchase in your soft skin, “not a chance.” 

[skzsauce01]

Clementia

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You’d always had a special place in your heart for Lee Minho even though he gives you countless reasons to hate him. How long will your patience last?

Warning: alcohol, sexual assault

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Minho

“Y/N—”

“Go away, Minho.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I said no!”

“Well I said I’m sorry.”

You snap around to face him. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Lee Minho. You screwed up. You. Screwed. Up. I gave you one request, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had my reasons!” he protests.

“Yeah? Well let’s hear them.”

He emits a few noises but can't come up with anything. His face flushes red, but not as red as yours.

“There’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart ever. Remember that.” You turn on your heels and begin walking away until he says something even more repulsive.

“Why do you care so much? She’s not even your real sister!” he calls after you.

You pause, unable to comprehend how such words could ever enter your ears. You then slowly walk back to him as he stiffens with every step you take.

“Not my real sister?” Your voice is soft, but it is effective.

“I mean—”

“You’re saying the girls at Epsilon Phi aren’t sisters?” Your voice begins to rise. “We’re more sisters than you and I were ever friends, Lee Minho! We love each other more than biological families do, but of course you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? All you have in your chest is a cold, hard piece of coal!”

You turn away and break off into a run this time. Tears stream down your face from being insulted and betrayed by someone you held with high esteem.

You like Lee Minho. Of course, you’d never admit that. To the world, he is just some kid of your mom’s friend who annoyed you to no end, but through the arguments and time spent trying to prove each other wrong, your feelings grew bit by bit. When he had a relationship with your very own Little, you held in your feelings and wished them both the best. After all, you love both of them, and their happiness together was good enough for you.

That is, until Minho broke things off as nothing but a fling.

Minho has always been a huge flirt, but he’d promised to take her seriously this time. You made him swear it, and you emphasized how much your Little meant to you. Now, because you’re his family friend, your Little won’t even speak to you. Minho had ruined your and her relationship, and evidently yours and his too.

He didn’t used to be like this, all manipulative and amorous. You remember he used to follow you at the heel, caring about nothing more than sticking gum in your hair. It wasn’t until senior year of high school did he start hanging out with random girls and trying daredevilish things. You missed the old Minho, but you thought you’d accept him for all his changes since you did, after all, like him.

Until this moment, that is.

What he did was too much. What he said was too much. You know he is becoming toxic, and if he is going to continue down this path, even your love isn’t going to bring him back to your heart.

Minho watches your waning back then slams his fist against a nearby tree with a curse. You didn’t give him enough time to explain, not that he would have been able to in front of you.

You’d forgive him though, right? You have to. When he messed up before this, Minho could be sure you would. But now, he isn’t so certain. He has never seen you so angry and disappointed before, and he did that to you. Him. Minho lets out another string of curses and trudges back to his room.

He tries making it up to you the very next morning. He shows up to your 8 AM class with a cup of coffee and slides it onto your desk before sitting down himself.

You don’t even look at him. You just take the cup and slam it down in front of him, causing its contents to spill and burn your fingers. He quickly takes your hand in his and begins wiping it with his sleeve, but you recoil your arm and take out your own napkin.

The next place he tries is at your neighboring frat party. He knows you would be there, so he wears his tightest black jeans and a loose button-up. This trick has worked with other girls, so he hopes it would on you.

He takes the dance floor with his powerful dance moves and charisma. He can see you deliberately turned away from him and chatting with someone else, so he dances towards you. The cheering circle that has formed around him moves as well, engulfing you into the crowd.

You finally turn to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. Minho takes this chance to shoot you a wink which draws the crowd’s attention to you. They cheer and push you towards him despite your protests.

Minho takes your arm and leads you in the dance. You used to like dancing with him; your and his flow matches perfectly, and the two of you could revive a dying party just by dancing together. Today though, you just aren’t having it.

Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and scoops his hips low earning a cheer from the crowd. You can hear them calling your name, anticipating your response. You look down at Minho and immediately recognize his choice of clothing.

I wonder who’s going to have her heart broken tomorrow, you think with a dry laugh. Minho flinches, recognizing that sound. You take his falter as a chance to fling his arm off of you before walking away.

A chorus of oohs fills the room, and the crowd splits like the Red Sea for you.

You hear your name from his lips again. “Y/N!” It is more strained now than it was last night. Desperate. Defeated.

You gave him some thought after hearing the sincerity in his tone, but you are glad you did not turn around that night when you see him in class with some other girl on his lap. Whatever. He’s dead to you now, so why should you care what he’s doing?

Minho watches as you walk farther and farther from him. He pushes the girl off and continues to stare with narrowed eyes at you as you greet your new seat neighbors.

This isn’t how he predicted you would react. Truthfully, he kind of knew this attempt wouldn’t work. For one, it hadn’t worked once since he first tried it in high school. He thought hanging out with other girls would make him more attractive, more desirable by competition. At least, that’s what some then-college kids told him. Once he started, he just found himself unable to stop. It was a self-feeding cycle, really. Holding onto other girls and charming them numbs the void in his chest, but you ignore him whenever he acts like this which only further widens the gap. 

What is he to do though? This is the only life he knows, and so, it is the life he leads. Not all love stories can end happily.

And his sure doesn’t seem like it is going to. 

Sirens wail in the background. With the amount of girls he’s fooled around with, he kind of had it coming. Minho stares at his wrists, not daring to think, but one thought keeps recurring in his mind: you. He is going to disappoint you yet again. You already hate him, and now you are going to see him handcuffed too.

The cold wind makes him shiver when you, his emergency contact, open the door and step into the station. Your eyes immediately find him, and you make your way over.

“Y/—”

“Are you hurt?” you ask plainly.

Despite your icy tone, those three simple words fill him with a warmth he hasn’t known for a long time.

“I’m okay.” His hands reach forward, wanting to grab yours and keep you with him, but you’ve already walked away to announce your arrival to an officer.

“Miss L/Y Y/N?” a young official greets a little too enthusiastically. She looks familiar, you note.

“Yes, I am she.”

The officer looks pleased by your annoyed attitude towards the defendant. “Mister Lee is here tonight because of an accusation by Miss Choi of assault,” she informs you coyly.

You look at him. “Minho,” you said with a chilled voice. “Is it true?”

“No! Y/N, I wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Excuse me?” the officer sputters.

“I believe him,” you repeat. “He’s been going out with more people than I have fingers, but he never laid a finger on them.”

“But Y/N, that doesn’t mean he can’t start now,” the officer protests. “You’re his contact, but you hate him now. Surely, he’s changed”

“First of all, it’s Miss L/N to you, Officer” —you read her name tag and pieces begin to fall together from her eagerness to convict Minho to the inkling you felt the moment you saw her— “Yoo. And secondly, is it not against the law for you to be working on a case where your cousin’s the accuser?”

“How did you—!”

“Nothing escapes us Epsilon Phi sisters, even news from other sororities. Besides, Minho never plays with the same girl twice. As expected, this report is filed for an incident two months ago. You, Officer Yoo, knew I was his contact and waited for us to get into yet another fight before having your cousin put in the accusation, didn’t you?”

She scoffs in your face. “That’s a bold accusation from yourself towards law enforcement.”

“Where is the accuser right now? Shouldn’t she be here for interrogation as well?”

“Well she—” the officer looks increasingly flustered. “She needs rest after having to relive the memories of what happened. We’ll call her in tomorrow. Anyway, Mr. Lee Minho, I can hear your testimony now in room #3.”

Minho stands obediently.

“Wait. I request someone else interrogate him,” you object.

“We’re busy right now,” Officer Yoo huffs. “We can’t just let you choose who does the job.”

You cross your arms. “Sure. Interrogate him and have the entire case be nulled after I file a conflict of interest.”

Officer Yoo grits her teeth but returns to her station to call for another officer.

In the meantime, you turn to Minho. “Don’t answer anything you don’t want to, especially if they start leading you on with questions. It’s in your rights to remain silent, alright?”

Minho nods numbly at your words, still confused as to why you are so nice to him. Before he can figure it out though, an older man appears from the back and takes him to an interrogation room.

“Mr. Lee Minho?” 

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chief Jeon. I’m just going to ask you a few questions today; is that alright?”

“Yes.”

The chief nods and pulls out some papers. “Would you mind describing what happened with Miss Choi?”

“Well I was with—” he gestures towards the papers with his accuser’s name on it— “and we were hitting it off. She bought me a couple of drinks and at some point leaned in to kiss me. I realized something at that point, and I stopped her. She got angry, saying how she spent all that cash on alcohol for me, and threatened to accuse me of assault if I didn’t do what she said, but I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of what you realized?” the chief repeats.

“... Yes.”

“And what was it you realized?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“According to the law, no, but if it can help you with your case, you might want to.”

Minho fidgets with his cuffs. “They can’t hear me from outside, right?”

“No. They most certainly cannot.”

And so, Minho tells him.

Minho turns around while the metal bars clang shut behind him. The chief thinks he has a pretty good chance, but due to the gravity of the accusation, they still decided to keep Minho in holding to give the accuser more time to make her case.

You stare at him from the other side, arms crossed. Minho takes the fact that you’re still here at two in the morning as a good sign for him.

“Thanks for being here,” he tries to start a conversation.

“I didn’t really have a choice.” So cold.

“I’ll change my emergency contact.”

“Please do.”

He winces. “Look… Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for insulting your sisterhood and for hurting your Little. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

He looks at you with those doe-like eyes of his. For once, you don’t feel anything while looking back at them.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. In fact, I’m not even mad,” you tell him. “My Little told me what really happened. She told me that she was actually the one who dumped you after you adamantly refused to kiss her. I asked some other girls you’ve seen and they all said the same thing. That’s why I was so confident with the officer earlier. I guess I owe you an apology for getting angry when you weren’t at fault.”

“Then”—he holds out a hand sheepishly— “truce?”

You look at it but keep your arms crossed. “Taking a step back from you has made me see things I wasn’t able to before, Minho, and that’s made me realize how much you’ve changed. You were my friend, my rival— someone who never failed to get on my nerves but also someone I couldn’t go without. But now” —you drop your arms and shake your head— “I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

You take a step back to leave. You’ve done this many times before, like when he stuck a plastic spider down your shirt or when he called you stupid in front of your crush in fifth grade, but something about this time feels different. Something about this time tells him you aren’t turning back around once you left.

A sudden despair grips Minho and he runs into the bars. “Wait!”

You pause, offering him one last second.

“Your Little,” he gasps, “did she tell you why I wouldn’t kiss her?”

You nod. “The others I asked did too. They said you were thinking about some other girl while you were with them.”

“Not ‘some other’ girl. One other girl.”

“I know.” You begin to walk again.

“Then why are you leaving?” He reaches a hand out, trying to grab any part of you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N, stay.”

You don’t pause a second time. Out of desperation, he cries out, “Y/N, I love you!”

That makes you stop midstep. He holds his breath as you put one foot back then the other next to it to face him. You are so beautiful when you look at him. He melts under your gaze as you focus on him and only him. He’ll cherish you this time when you give him another chance. He’ll quit this playboy lifestyle. He won’t take advantage of your patience anymore. He’ll give you all that his heart has to offer. He’ll make sure you’re the only one in his eyes. He’ll love you. He loves you.

“Minho.” You relax your shoulders and straighten your back. You tilt your head just slightly forward and erase the edge off your tone. “I loved you.”