#no wonder they get along so good afterwards lmfao

[infamous-if]

how would the ros react if someone was flirting intensively with mc and mc wasn't comfortable with it but didn't say anything

(I'll answer as if the ROs witness it in action.)

Seven would straight up go up to MC and them and say, “Are they bothering you?” or if the person is really persistent they’d tell them to fuck off 😭 Seven is not shy about confronting someone, especially if it involves MC. And then afterward they’d get very soft with MC, put their hands on MCs cheeks and ask, “You alright?” Or something along those lines.

If Seven and MC aren’t on good terms, Seven is still someone with enough morals and has enough care for MC to go up to the person and say:

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Seven would ask really casually, as if part of the convo the whole time.

“Uh, no-“

“I think you do actually.”

“Uh..okay.” And the person would scurry off. Seven wouldn’t say a word to MC and just walk away, pretending nothing happened. Or maybe give MC a slight nod to acknowledge them and then leave and avoid them for the rest of the night. 😭

G would come over and start making jokes that are basically thinly veiled insults. Those types of comments that will have the person wondering later if G was just being an ass😭 G likes to use their body to really make a mark; hold MC close, have their arms around them and really draw an invisible barrier between them and the other person. Make them uncomfortable or not wanted.

Victoria would get snippy and say something and then grab MC’s hand and stalk away. Though nice, Victoria can be very blunt, especially when someone is being weird towards her/MC. She'll say something particularly harsh and then be like, "MC, let's go!" Like, purposely slapping the person's face with her hair or something (crying)

Victoria and G together...they're both confrontational on that front so I feel bad for the person if they did that on the poly route lmfao

Sebastian is just too nice. He'd interrupt (and apologize for it) and just say that he needs to talk to MC real quick. When MC asks him what's up, he'll say "I just wanted to help you escape."

Orion is pretty intimidating by himself so the person would already be wanting to leave once Orion comes over, hands crossed, eyes narrowed. "It seems you lack enough self-awareness to realize you're making MC uncomfortable. Shame." Something that would make them feel like a scolded child.

August would be very nonchalant, very calm and just say, "You're being weird, dude." August is very straight-forward but not very mean or biting in their words. I feel like they are really skilled at getting their point across without raising their voice or coming out of character. Getting August to scold you definitely feels like the worst because it's hard to get August out of their chill zone haha

[onovnii]

# sugar daddy hcs

feat. mammon

summary. him as a sugar daddy. 

cw. smut (duh) 

author n. obligatory author’s note. i don’t have anything to say other than the mammon tag on this blog is slowly growing 😏 (send more mammon requests. make it longer)

mammon.

having the avatar of greed as a sugar daddy sounds like the smartest idea in theory. in practice? …well…

how it started.

▸ mammon has always thought about you dressed in the most expensive clothes one could own, wearing beautiful diamond jewelry of your liking.

▸ seeing you like that would be a dream. so of course, mammon wants to make it reality.

▸ it starts off small, buying a necklace or a ring here and there. then it escalates into clothing.

▸ oh you were eyeing a nice dress? already got it

▸ you liked that button up? in the cart.

▸ you thought those shoes would look really good with a fit? don’t even worry about it.

▸ it eventually becomes normal, expected even. the only thing he asks in return is a few favors, nothing extreme just help in his daily life.

▸ what changed this whole thing into a real arrangement was when you came to him wondering if you two could go shopping, since there was something you had wanted.

▸ before answering you, mammon looked at you up and down before sighing.

▸ he got up and reached in a drawer,

▸ pulling out a black and gold card, his card.

“i’m busy at the moment, but since i know you’ve had ya eye on a certain somethin’— and don’t think i haven’t notice how you’d go all sparkly eyed every time we passed the store—“

▸ you were a little embarrassed that he noticed, awkwardly shifting the weight on your legs.

▸ mammon walked up to you and handed you his card

“i’ll give ya this…if you do me a little somethin’ for it”

▸ mammon had a dark look in his eye, his usual smirk much more sinister now.

▸ it didn’t take a genius to understand what he was insinuating, and you couldn’t lie you haven’t thought of a scenario like this before

▸ without a second though, you took goldie, wordlessly agreeing to the arrangement he had in mind.

general hcs. 

▸ honestly? one of the best choices you’ve ever made.

▸ mammon’s the perfect sugar daddy, always attentive to your preferences and always treats you right.

▸ he doesn’t take you out to fancy places often though.... because he’s still a cheapskate at heart, that’s reserved for more special occasions.

▸ he does take you out to the casino. flaunting you at any given chance. everybody in that jawn knows who you are and who you belong to.

▸ he brings you along because to him, you’re his lucky charm. everytime you’re with him he always scores big.

▸ this night was no different, and he decided to spend that money (mostly) on you.

▸ ‘it’s been a while since he’s spoiled his human’ he thinks

▸ as mention before, mammon only wants the best for you. so naturally, he goes all out on clothes (saved some for himself too lmfao)

▸ will want you to model for him. especially lingerie

▸ afterwards, he takes you back home so you can,, compensate.

▸ he starts off by saying how behaved you were today, how good you look right now dressed in white lace, how he wants to slowly peel the layers off of you and pleasure you with his tongue.

▸ tells you to open wide, to allow two of his fingers down your throat.

“suck”

▸ he commands. one thing about mammon is that once he tells you what to do, you better do it. he hates waiting

▸ mammon maintains eye contact with you, making you slightly embarrassed.

▸ just looking at how you suck on his middle and ring finger is enough to get him hard.

▸ but mammon’s known for his self control. its not a surprise that he’s holding back.

▸ he pulls his hand away, cause mammon doubts he’d be able to handle how you look up at him like that any longer.

“turn around and get on ya knees”

how it ended.

▸ the fool fell in love

▸ no seriously, he saw you less as something to own and show off and more as a “person he wants to cherish”

▸ in all honesty, mammons a little scared to get intimate with others. but he craves affection more than anything, more than money and all the material things he buys.

▸ he wanted you for a long time, just wasn’t sure how to go about it.

▸ mammon thought money was the best way to go about it.

▸ for a while, it worked out in his favor.

▸ he’d have you in his arms, even if it was for one night, that was enough for him.

▸ both of you had fun mindlessly fooling around any given chance, sure

▸ but there was always this unresolved tension between the two of you.

▸ you thought sex would relieve it, but it only intensified.

▸ it took a while for mammon to realize his feelings

▸ he first started being aware of them when he saw just how kind you were to him. always patient when he was short on money.

▸ it didn’t seem you were into him just for the money either.

▸ but it wasn’t like he had the courage to tell you this outright, thinking the best way to keep you close was to keep going with this sugar daddy act.

▸ it’s hard though, mammon just wants to kiss you with no money involved.

▸ he wants to be able to tell you he loves you outside of bed, to hold you close and not have it lead to fucking

▸ another thing about mammon is that he’s somewhat of a coward. always ready to run from his feelings.

▸ but you weren’t stupid. you saw the desire in his eyes, the type that screamed for intimacy, not sex

▸ it’ll be up to you if you want your relationship to progress beyond transactional.

-val

[borrovvedyoongi]

warned you p.sh

pairing: tutor!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, but at most suggestive for now

wc: 3k

warnings: mature content, cursing, mentions of erection, mentions of casual sex, y/n saying she’s screwing someone’s dad but she doesn’t lmfao

synopsis: y/n needs to pass calculus, and sunghoon needs to get laid

part 1/???

You were going to your snobby and strict private school, just walking to the beat of Sunmi blasting in your headphones. The pigtails got in the way of the headphones but you made it work. You were aiming for the cutesy innocent look today, regardless of if your whole grade thought you were some harlot. You’d rather call yourself a femme fatale, but what you’re really trying to reclaim as a raging bratty feminist is a bimbo.

Bimbos definitely need to keep their head up high with confidence, but seeing the latest AP calculus quiz on your desk with its 37% marked in red severely irked you in that it made you feel dumb, and not the good kind, the very small and insignificant kind. Bimbos don’t like feeling like that. You twirled your pigtail in your hand and tried to keep a neutral expression, holding in the heavy sigh you so badly need to exhale out. That’s when you heard it.

“How did she manage to score that low?” someone snickered.

“All that time spent on her back and not at a desk really paid off.” another person snickered. You really wanted to say you’ve actually got railed by their dad on his desk and that you’re quite adaptable on where you do it, but you didn’t wake up and choose violence today...and plus the teacher would’ve sent you to the office. Giving them attention would just fuel the fire that you can’t put out when you’re up against slut shaming vermin when you’re only a team of one. The bell rang, signaling your next class and before you were able to stand up and go, you were asked to stay for a few minutes afterwards along with someone else. That someone else being Park Sunghoon. You and Sunghoon walked to the desk of your teacher and stood before her.

“Now Y/N, I know that you haven’t been doing well in class so I decided to pair you up with Sunghoon as your tutor. I feel as though you would have great improvement after a few study sessions, considering big chapters are coming up to wrap up the semester, and now is the best time more than ever to get some aid that I can’t provide.” You peek over to Sunghoon and he glances at you briefly before looking back at the teacher.

“Is this mandatory?” you ask.

“If you want to pass this class, I strongly recommend that you let him help you. An alternative explanation could help.” You really had no other choice but to nod your head yes and go along with it.

“Good. Now that both of you are informed, hurry along before you’re late to your next class.” After both of you scurry out of the room, you walk ahead to your next class and feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon, but you already knew that.” he says awkwardly while he hands you a post it note in neat handwriting. You eye it, then look up.

“You’re giving me your number?” you ask. He nods.

“Texting is the most efficient way to communicate with me since I have ice skating practice and student council related things to do.” he iterates. Before you even say a word, Sunghoon is already off to his next class, but you don’t miss the way he turns around to wave at you and yells “Text me!” in the hallway. You’ve gotten many stares before, from the way you carry yourself and from the way you purposely pull your uniform skirt higher because you think it would look best as a mini skirt, but this time, you heard whispers.

“Why is he talking to her?”

“Must be doing charity work.”

You smile. You can’t wait to tell your best friend Sunoo what just happened at lunch.

-

“The ice prince is doing what now?” Sunoo says with fruit gummies in his mouth.

“He’s helping me with calculus. And gave me his number.” you say while grabbing for a piece of candy to which Sunoo lets you grab a few.

“So…what’s the plan here?” Sunoo says with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll text him right now and have some fun.”

“You whore! What do you mean have some fun?” Sunoo asked not subtly with his booming voice.

You roll your eyes. “You know the drill. I think he’s an easy target. I’ll be my cute charming self and see what happens.”

“You mean you’ll be a man eater and devour that poor innocent boy whole?” 

“You know me so well.” you say, grinning ear to ear. You whip out your phone and compose a text.

You: Hey Sunghoon, it’s Y/N, are you free after school today?

Unknown: Hey, and yes. Where would you like to study?

You: I’m more comfortable at my house where there’s less distractions. The library is too quiet for me and I like some white noise.

Sunoo peeks over your shoulder and says, “He responds fast.”

You smile, “Right?”

You start typing right away, but notice the three dots before you get to send anything.

Unknown: Sounds good, I’ll meet you after school :)

Sunoo gasps. “A smiley? A smiley!” You giggle at his reaction.

“It’s just an emoticon silly.” you say.

“It’s going to be water droplets and eggplants soon though.” Sunoo said in a sing song voice. You can’t help but laugh at your easily giddy best friend. You had big, big plans to get your prey, and you were going to have your fun in the process of passing calculus while you’re at it.

-

English literature wasn’t the most fun class in the world with talking about MacBeth and all, however, the fun part was daydreaming about Sunghoon. You have fancied the boy for the longest time casually but thought he was a little too vanilla for you. And you don’t like admitting it, a little too good for you with being a smart hardworking boy with his head on steady shoulders while yours just bobbled to whatever. Anyhow, you needed danger. A little spice, and everything delectably nice. He didn’t seem the type to be rough enough.

He was however tall, lean, and achingly adorable. Handsomely crafted, so soft spoken, and knew when to shut up unlike every boy you’ve slept with thus far. He’s a nice target. 

The bell rang, and you were quite surprised to see Sunghoon standing by your locker while you’re on your way there.

“Sunghoon!” you say cheerfully, making sure there was a bounce in your step, very glad you’re not wearing a bra today. For some reason the air conditioning wasn’t working today at school so you used this as an excuse to unbutton a few buttons earlier on your white crisp button up. You can see very clearly Sunghoon gulp and you can’t help but do your eye smile at this, and he does a soft grin in return.

“How did you figure out where my locker was?” you say as you tilt your head. Sunghoon couldn’t help but think the simple gesture of a head tilt was so charming. 

He shrugs. “I was going to text you but I knew you would be in class, so I looked at some documents to find out which locker it was. You know, student council perks.” 

“Ah.”

“Please don’t find it creepy.”

“I won’t, you dork.” You bend over to reach your locker since it was on the bottom row. Sunghoon stepped aside to let you open your locker, and his breath hitches in his throat. Seeing the back of your thighs in a skirt that was hiked up higher than it was supposed to was bewitching. He felt like he was in a trance and lingered his eyes on your legs for quite a while. Your skirt was just at the edge of the curvature of your ass, leaving some to the imagination but not much. You knew exactly what you were doing. You had many cheap tricks up your sleeve, and you were going to use them to your advantage. You could practically feel his gaze on you and you can’t help but smirk as you grab your calculus textbook along with your pencil bag, still bent over taking your time putting the items in your backpack. Sunghoon knows he has to stop staring or otherwise this won’t look good for him.

“Ready to go?” you say with a smile. It takes a moment for him to process what just happened and he’s all the while wondering how did your legs not hurt when you didn’t crouch to the ground all the way.

“Of course.”

-

The walk to your home was pleasant, you looked down at your shoes often and Sunghoon mapped out what sections you two were to go over in the textbook, including the homework that was assigned today. You asked him how his classes went and he responded after pausing to mull over his thoughts.

“It’s okay. Nothing exciting happened other than right now.” he says, looking at you while giving you his undivided attention. You can’t help but admire the beauty that is Sunghoon. His soft looking hair that frames his face nicely and the way he has his hands shoved into the pockets of his uniform slacks make him look so boyishly handsome and breathtaking.

It takes a moment for you to respond. “What about right now is so exciting?”

He gently smiles and looks away from you. “I don’t tutor people often. Every once in a while I get asked to help students about a few things but never really spend enough time with them to consider it tutoring. And the change of pace on how I manage my time is much needed. I don’t interact with different people often, so this is...nice.”

Your heart races as the clouds take over the blue sky slowly. You notice just how pretty the cute moles on his face are as your gaze lingers on them for a bit. He does that stupid charming smile that makes you giddy and you blush, picking up the pace. You start turning while walking backwards just to give him your undivided attention.

“We should walk faster, Sunghoon. It might start drizzling.”

-

Both of you entered your home and took your shoes off at the front door. Sunghoon took a quick glance at your home, to which he said “this is a cozy house.” You tell him your bedroom is the coziest spot in the house, and let him trail behind you as you go up the stairs, and he doesn’t miss the way your pretty and dainty hand smooths over the railing as you walk up. Entering your room, he noticed the pink canopy bed right away, and the pink heart shaped pillow on it. There were so many details in just one spot, with the floral comforter and lights attached to the tulle. It was pretty and graceful. Light and airy. Soft.

“You can sit on the bed. Let me get changed out of this uniform, it’s so hot in this blazer.” you say as you start to strip in front of your closet, looking away from Sunghoon. Now, Sunghoon doesn’t see himself as a pervert, so therefore, when he noticed you unbuttoning your white button up and could only see the smoothness of your back and notice there was no bra in sight, his cheeks flushed. He quickly turned the other cheek and looked anywhere else but you. Unfortunately, perhaps fortunately, you had a full length mirror with fake pink roses running along its sides across your room. Sunghoon tried really, really hard to look at the curve of the pink petals and not at the curve of your breasts when you turned to the side slightly, but he failed so horribly. He could see himself and his cheeks were beet red. The bulge in his pants was so noticeable too. He quickly placed his backpack on his lap and winced at how heavy it was against him. Why did that kinda feel good?

You turn around wearing your school uniform skirt still but this time with a bright red crop top and of course, no bra. Sunghoon is dying and he can’t help but stare at how prominent your nipples are through the thin material. You take the pigtails down and he loves the way your hair cascades down your shoulders once it’s out of its confines of a scrunchie. He blinks once, twice, many times. Maybe if he sees only the back of his eyelids long enough he will stop picturing you naked. It doesn’t work, and you just stand with your hands on your hips and a lilt to your voice.

“Are you thirsty?” you say sweetly, knowing your tricks are working.

“Uh, y-yeah. Do you have water? Can I have water please?” Sunghoon is so precious.

“Of course you can.”

-

You really are a chintzy whore at best. Your excuse for not sitting at the desk of your room to study was that there was only one comfy study chair, and that you didn’t feel like bringing the dining room chair upstairs. That’s understandable, right? You could’ve however used the chair at your vanity, but that’s just a padded stool with no back to it. Wouldn’t want you or Sunghoon to forget and lean back too far and fall to your doom. So you told Sunghoon that you would rather study in your bed.

You played a little playlist in the background, something mellow and soft and not too distracting. Every once in a while Sunghoon will ask what song it is, and you respond with a chipper in your voice.

“Oh, this one is Sex and Sadness by Madi Sipes and the Painted Blue!”

“That’s one hell of a title.” he chuckles.

“It sure is. The lyrics are so...pretty? I can’t put it into words. The part where it talks about ‘stained glass loved lace’ gets me every time. And ‘whispering words into the singer’s skin.’ It’s romantic.” Sunghoon notices how there’s a certain dazzling feature in your eyes as you talk about the song. He wants to stare in your eyes, but alas you have to finish this one problem. Sunghoon prioritizes responsibilities over such silly, frivolous things that only he notices.

“So tell me how you’re going to solve this problem.” Sunghoon says swiftly while grabbing the glass of water on your nightstand.

You stare at the problem and try your best to concentrate. You really do. But you can’t help the way Sunghoon’s hand looks lazily placed on his thigh. Without much thought, you trace a finger on the back of his hand and say, “Your hands are so veiny.”

“Y/N.”

“And big.”

Well that’s a first, Sunghoon thinks. He knows he’a good looking, a bunch of girls swoon over him at school and at the rink all the time. The most common compliment he gets is on his eyes, and maybe hair, but not on his hands of all things. You’re fascinated by them, and you won’t stop tracing along the veins. Your touch sets his skin ablaze, and it doesn’t seem like you’re finishing this problem any time soon.

“Let’s take a break. I think you’re getting distracted because your brain is all fried.” Sunghoon says softly, still letting you continue playing with his hand.

“I’m getting distracted because I have a pretty boy in my bed.” you giggle. You finally look up and see how pink his cheeks are from blushing.

He starts to stammer “You’re the one that wants to study in your bed!” His voice is a little pitched and you can’t contain your laughs. 

“Do you want to move to the desk then?” you ask.

He shakes his head and mumbles a “no.” A few moments pass and you almost didn’t hear what he says next because it’s under his breath.

“I’ve never been called pretty before.”

“Gasp.” you say, lightheartedly.

“No but like, I’ve been called handsome, smart, a little weird, but not pretty.” Sunghoon replies. A moment of silence passed, and you started to ponder.

“There’s a song called Pretty Boy in my playlist somewhere.”

You go over to your laptop and click on The Neighbourhood song. You sway your hips gently and get lost into the music. Sunghoon just gazes at you as you move along to the steady pulse of the music and let the melodies feel you instead of the other way around. You do a little twirl and waltze your way to your bed, grabbing his hand.

“Dance with me.”

He obliged, wordlessly.

He takes in the words of the lyrics and closes his eyes. If he can’t see how close he is to you right now, it feels less real. It feels less scary. Not that you’re scary, Sunghoon doesn’t think girls with pink heart shaped pillows are scary. What’s scary is you laughing at his boner because he hasn’t been this close to a girl before since a random winter formal he had in grade school. The girl wasn’t all that nice since she dipped to dance with his friend. You’re much softer and nice. More delicate. You even smell nicer. God, your little hands enclosed together behind his neck and his big hands on your waist feels too good to be true. He can feel your gaze on him.

“Sunghoon, open your eyes.” He does, and his breath hitches and you look down, because you definitely feel something poking you and it wasn’t there before.

“I have to go, I have a curfew and it’s getting late, I’ll walk myself out.”

“Sunghoon I can at least walk you down-“

“No, seriously. I can go by myself. Thank you though.”

He’s so wide eyed and his cheeks are so rosy and he dashes away like his life depends on it. And you didn’t even get to kiss him.

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

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

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

March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we dating?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jennie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it hits you. 

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

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what? 

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t leave. 

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

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

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

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

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with you? 

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

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

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry for what?” 

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

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

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

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

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

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

“Five-hundred a week?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, who are your models?” 

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

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

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

“I’m not modeling.” 

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

“Partners.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe, everything alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

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

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

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

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little–” 

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

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

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have to?” 

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bun, be careful!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

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

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

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

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

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

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

“Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scream. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

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

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

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

Some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oui, oui.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[honoredbastard]

such pretty tears, baby boy ♡

“does this get you off?”          “MGH! y/n please-”     “ah ah ah-”   

✻ ˒ ໍ CHARACTERS ♡ bonten!mikey, bonten!rindou haitani and sadist gn!reader. all above the age of 20. they’re all timeskipped.

✻ ˒ ໍ CONTENT/KINKS ♡ NSFW, EDGING, TYING, OVERSTIMULATION, Y/N BEING A soft SADIST-(?) MASOCHISTS, BOTTOM, BOYS, GIVE NO REICIVE. drug/addiction mention(s). MENTIONS OF PET PLAY.

✻ ˒ ໍ A/N ♡ Y’ALL SADISTIC GN!READER HAS ME BY THE NECK-. i don’t know how to write rindou nor smut well FORGIVE ME GODS OF SMUT- it’s just a little drabble thingy ma jig that really couldn’t be kept in my drafts for too long- manga spoilers? draken will be next time? also toy/gear mentions.

::  ִֶָ MANJIRO “MIKEY” SANO 𓂅

sex with mikey was usually nice, lazy, and quiet. on other days he’d devour your body like a starving man, but in reality he was a little on the frustrated side. sexually. at times he’d be away for business purposes as he’d tell you and leave sanzu or rindou to be your bodyguard. as for rindou you appreciated his company, he didn’t talk to you much but the times you’d cook for him ( he loves your cooking, bad or not this man will devour it in full. so will ran, ran is just all smiles and eating. burnt food? doesn’t bother him. ) and/or just a small conversation was enough for you to smile. although sanzu was a different story, the top trusted bonten members and mikey all shared a loft, including you. so it didn’t take a lot of time to understand sanzu’s.... addiction.

it didn’t bother you much but whenever you came out of your shared room with mikey, he’d stare. just stare at you calmly, sword or gun in hand. sometimes he mistook you for his s/o, other times he was too high to think straight and was sprawled out on the couch. half of his body melting into the floor. you wondered how he could do that comfortably. 

but that didn’t matter anymore, mikey was arriving home soon and you snuck around to grab some things around the house. a rope (thank you high sanzu for complying and ordering one), a ball gag, a small paddle that shouldn’t hurt too much, and a blindfold. all things you ordered off the internet after studying in secret for weeks.

when you were alone, lonely, and sexually frustrated you stumbled across bdsm and kinks. of course mikey had kinks and interests that he’d expressed to you which you happily indulged in them. ( his spanks hurt, but they make mikey’s hips thrusting against you afterwards 10x better. ) at the time you just believed you were a maso with a bratty side and mikey had to many kinks to list that left you both in undying pleasure.

all until you were alone all over again, sanzu drunk and on whatever drug he smoked or popped this time. you were free to do as you want. a little on the dangerous side when your boredom stretched for hours on end when sanzu was sober enough to recognize your sneaking presence. at times he’d play along and sneak up behind you ( he’s too good at this when he has his sanity tbh ) and whisper in your ear “what are we hunting this time?” “OH FUCK!!” you’d scream and on reflex threw a fist at the man, who’s arms blocked his face and your fist. “sanzu!” you groaned, heart thumping against your chest like a race horse.

“i’m sorry.” you voice strained, scared that you fucked up this last time with sanzu and he was tired of it. “it’s fine, it’s fine. i’m the one who scared you. sooo... whatcha sneakin’ about for?” he grinned, leaning closer to your face. his eyes felt like he could see your lies before you’d come up with one, so you just told the truth.... parts of it at least. “i didn’t want to wake you and i got ordered stuff that i wanted to use online and i was gonna go get it!” 

sanzu’s face that was inches apart from yours leaned away, he smiled politely before trotting back to the couch. “all good, just wanted to make sure boss’ partner wasn’t meetin’ other gang members. y’know?” his body practically melted into the couch, eyes flicking between you and the t.v before getting comfortable. “you know i would never, sanzu!” you grinned, he shrugged, eyes already half-lidded. 

yup, he was about as stable as a dizzy ram for a few minutes there. you sighed and marched your way to outside where two small boxes were stacked above a bigger box. those were all toys- anal beads, a small paddle, dildos. you name it, you ordered it. you could already fantasize it- mikey under your touch, tied to a chair with every. single. part of him.... exposed. your body felt a shock through it, biting your lip to remain calm but it was hard for your ideas to settle.

you could already feel a knot building in your stomach that you had to get out badly. mikey would be a couple hours right? when you arrived to your shared space with mikey, you put the boxes in the closet and searched for something of his. something that smelled of him, that made you tingle in all the right places. you found a familiar black shirt so you took it, plopped onto the bed and held it in one hand while the other went to town on yourself. you began losing your mind from the pleasure as you started edging yourself - falling into a fantasy of your own.

mikey body was wearing ropes like clothes, you were staring him down with a smug smirk. eyes slow and attentive, it made mikey twitch when he watched. toes curled when you licked your lips, biting down on your cheek to stop you from devouring him right there. no no no, you had to have your fun. you inched closer to him, eyes never leaving his.

the man unable to speak was bontens number one, his life was right there for you to hold in your palms. you were aware of this, but you treated him like he was another civilian. he, of course, allowed you to. your hands brushed his untouched cock that was dripping with precum, “excited already?” you asked, licking the pent up contents.

mikey, who was gagged, nodded quickly before your warm tongue dragged itself from his base to his already flushed tip. playing with the slit for your own amusement while he tried to buck his hips to no avail. you were aware he’d try to get himself into your mouth, lure you into his trap where he has his way with you and not the other way around.

“ah-ah-ah.” you shook a finger at him, a teasing yet playful tone, your hand wrapped itself around his veiny shaft, slowly but surely raising the speed with each bite you placed on his pale thighs. he twitched and squirmed as he neared his release till you slowed down at the peak moment. you could hear his frustration through his muffled pants and whimpers. your fingers rubbed back and forth across his slit before placing a thumb there.

you looked up at mikey who’s cheeks were redder than a tomato, you kept looking while your mouth neared his inner thighs. you placed hickeys, ran a nail from the inside his hip down his thigh which made him squirm more. his skin flinched at the odd feeling, then you did it with his cock.

that sent him into an odd feeling of pleasure that made his toes curled, breath hitch, and eyes squeeze shut. raising yourself from the ground, you sat onto his lap with open legs for taunting him. “should i remove that ballgag? hmm?” you questioned, blowing into his ear before biting at the lobe. “so sanzu can hear your pleasure as i play with you to my heart content?” you licked behind his ear, his head jerked back slightly - free rain to kiss up and down his neck.

 “i’m not letting you cum till you cry for me.. slut.” you clicked in his ear, he shivered at your dominance over him. 

I’M GOING TO HELL FOR THIS ONE EVEN IF IT’S SHITTY LMFAO-

::  ִֶָ RINDOU HAITANI 𓂅

sex with rindou was about a mix of everything. it was like those ‘god making me’ tiktoks you’d stumble upon every-so often from your pure boredom. at times you were allowed to go to bonten meetings and overs you weren’t. ( rindou is keen on protecting you from the heavy shit he sees too often. especially if those meetings are fucked up. ) so when you weren’t either someone who was already informed like koko or ran which rindou trusted more than anyone to watch over you, to be your bodyguard. 

the problem was, rindou didn’t touch you in the places that craved being touched. your bottom half was aching to feel his hands again, to become red, fading into purple and blues. aching afterwards but getting the best aftercare, you were treated like royalty after you let rindou have his way with you. you even missed his breeding kink that would never end and left you in a shaking mess.

yet although all the offers and signals you threw at him, he brushed you off. now this was getting on your nerves. very much on your nerves. so you set up a plan: overstim and edge your boyfriend beyond compare. you’d give him the best aftercare for a price. you were going to have your way with him, of course you’ll ask for consent and walk him through what you’d do to him. but after that the power exchange was all yours.

you’d both mutually set up on a safe word and if either of you couldn’t speak properly you set up a safe signal. rindou was invested in bdsm and you too, became invested into it. which may have flipped your sadist switch. the idea was to tie rin up or to a chair. you had plenty of gear ( both pet and non pet play ) and way too many restraining gear. which excited you of all the things you could do.

although you knew one thing for sure. you were going to play with his cock till it ached and tears were burning into his cheeks while you tried your way at humiliating him. he’d done this to you many times, restrained you, made your nipples harder than him. it was everything.

when you peered out of your room you saw ran sitting at the dinner table concentrating at something. “should i pester him?” you questioned aloud in a hushed voice, “hm? oh is that you, y/n?” “yes?!” you felt like you got caught, your voice was high pitched and confused which made ran laugh. “at ease, come on over here.” following his orders like a dog, you stumbled your way over to ran awkwardly.

you stared at the cards in awe, “are you playing by yourself?” “actually yes i am! would you like to play with me?” “sure!” you sat time with a smile, yyou seemed focused but your mind was somewhere else. far far away from the ground, it all played out with rindou’s loud moans and occassional grunts as your hand slid down his length. eyes flicking to him than the thing you were working so well for - applying your mouth soon after. though rindou failed your plans for his edging, you still went to town as he filled your mouth, riding his orgasim while you kept going. the pleasure becoming painful but it felt oh-so.... good.

                thanks for reading! <3 it was horrible but fun to write 10/10.                 rindou’s part sucked everything that i had worked on was                 deleted and i’m still pissed so it’s not great, thank you!

[spiltscribbles]

57. “Wait a second.. are you jealous?” + Poorly Timed Confession + modern au 😍 pretty please!!!

~Notes: OMFG angel!!! Thank you SO SO much for the prompt<3 You are a complete babe! I hope you like :S It’s cheese, but like also what else would I do? LMFAO XD

.-

Smash Prompt Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Is Like An I Love You!!

.-

“Hmmm… All right, would you rather, mmm… Smell Borris Johnson’s sweaty gym socks, or snog Professor Slughorn full on the mouth for a straight minute— oh erm, not so straight I reckon on second thought.”

Remus wrinkles his nose at him from across the bed, and clucks his tongue at the awful pun. “You’re unruly.”

“And you’re dodging,”

“Am not arse, I’m just recovering from that very terrifying scenario you’ve spewed out like the sadistic satanist you are.”

“Which scenario are you recovering from though?” Sirius leers, wiggling his eyebrows and jostling Remus’s textbook with his foot.

“I hate that you’re enjoying this so much,” Remus intones in a deadpan.

“Mary John, I’m waiting,” Sirius says with far too much glee.

Sometimes Remus is sure that he hates him. “Fine, the answer is I hate you.”

“Filthy and slanderous lies, Lupin.”

“You’re demented.”

“Five. Four. Three—“

“I won’t choose.”

“See,  all I hear is that you wanna get it on with our chemistry professor, you saucy minx, you.”

Remus sniffs. “Better than touching that prick with even a ten foot pole.”

“Mmmm, have I ever told you how hot and heavy I get hearing you talk politics at me?”

Remus throws him the bird, which makes Sirius laugh. Remus can objectively say that Sirius has the most beautiful variations of laughter in the world, and he’d know considering he’s catalogued each one. This version is definitely top three. His care free, effortless laugh when Remus takes him off guard with a snide remark or lowly muttered retort that’s not appropriate for most company— It’s really more of a experience, truly. His breaths stutter out in a lovely staccato, and his eyes glimmer like the sea, and sometimes it feels like the world’s been suspended and it’s only the two of them in that slice of eternity.

Erm, Ah, but yeah…. That only happens occasionally, and it’s only because Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend— has been since the final year of primary school after Remus had moved to the London outskirts from his small, coastal town in Wales, and on first sight, Sirius swung a snowball straight to Remus’s face, which he of course responded to by throwing two more his way, and well… The pair of them were soaking and breathless by the end of it, but their fate was sealed, they were the greatest of friends, and nothing would ever alter that unquestionable staple.

So what if sometimes Remus’s chest thuds painfully when Sirius dimples his way, or Remus only ever wants to talk to him over anyone else— even Lily or his Mam— if he’s had a bad day, or good one, or if something remarkable had happened, or , or… Or whenever really. And there’s absolutely no significance that Remus can’t help the totally delighted grin that splits his face in half whenever he gets a text or snap from Sirius.

None of that is at all relevant.

Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend, and he’d never risk ruining that by allowing some pesky little crush swallow him whole and clammer out his mouth— vulnerable and throbbing in the open space between them. It doesn’t matter if Marlene always makes kissy faces their way, or how James only ever refers to them as a couple, and so what if Peter’s got a pole running that Remus knows basically the whole school is betting on. 

They’re all wrong, Sirius would never, ever feel the same sort of way that Remus does him, that’s downright preposterous and ridiculous and just simply impossible. And Remus’s perfectly content with that very real truth… He is.

Remus is fine with it God help him. So everyone else just needs to but the fuck out of their business.

Besides, this, this right now— Him and Sirius splayed out on opposite ends of Remus’s bed, with Sirius’s feet nudging at Remus’s elbow whenever he’s got a question about there homework, with the window cracked open just so, letting in some of the chilly winter air because Sirius absolutely can not focus if he’s not cold— the fucking furnace— Where Remus can still hear the going ons of his family playing out on the floor below them… This is the most perfect place in Remus’s eyes, and he won’t ever change that, especially not to live out some boyhood fantasy that would never come into fruition in his wildest of dreams.

Remus’s content… He is… He has to be or else he’d lose one of the most vital people in his world.

.-

“You’ve got footie practice after school, right?”

“Mmhmm, you coming to watch?”

“Only if you admit i’m your good luck charm,” Remus sardonically bats his lashes at Sirius as if he was in a mascara advert, and the taller boy  blows a raspberry right back at him.

“Nice, real nice. You’re extraordinarily mature, you know that, Black?”

“And sexy, don’t forget that, oh so important descriptor Lupin.”

Remus leans against the locker besides Sirius’s, watches as he trades his current binders for the lot he’ll need for the afternoon, and tries really hard not to stare too longingly at how Sirius’s arm muscles ripple beneath their school’s  maroon, uniform jackets  in the most delicious of ways. (He hates the fact he’s been dissolved into a starry eyed mess lusting over the star striker, but thus is his fate.)

“I’d never commit such a faux pas, and I’m insulted that you’d ever think as much.”

Sirius sneers at him with a slight shake to his head. “So you coming or not?”

“I’m still contemplating my options,” he preens, but before Sirius could retort, Marlene, megawatt smile and dangerously sharp  smirk— swaggers over towards them.

“Good morning my two beautiful chums!”

“What do you want?” Sirius asks before even glancing her way, to which Marlene blinks up at him, faux owlish. “S, I just wanted to greet a couple of my closest companions this lovely December morning,” she defends herself.

“Marls, you’re never this agreeable before noon,” Remus points out hesitantly.

“ And you rarely are even afterwards,” Sirius tacks on.

“Rude,” she pouts.

“Accurate,” Remus pipes in with an apologetic grimace.

Marlene stares them both down for a solid minute before finally relaxing her shoulders, and thrusting out the legal pad in her grasp. “The student council and spirit society are selling corsages for the snowflake formal, and Dorcas has deployed me to get some orders.”

“Whipped,” Sirius teases through a counter-fit cough.

Marlene doesn’t hesitate before smashing the legal pad on his head. “And you traipsing around getting people to buy the tickets for the theatre department last semester even though Re was only playing Mercutio wasn’t you being wrapped around his littlest finger?”

Remus flushes, feeling an unnerving amount of bees stinging around his stomach, and is thankful when the conversation pauses after Sirius casts her a very heated V.  “Sod off.”

“So are you guys gonna buy or not?” Marlene huffs, weight slung to her left hip, and arms crossed against her chest.

“I’m a gay bloke, Marls, did you forget that?” Remus pins her with a one eyed squint, and she just scrunches her face up at him, exasperated.

“I’m sure there’s matching boutonnieres.”

“Fine, I just don’t have any school spirit  then.”

This time she glares. “Lily and James are Head Boy and Head Girl, isn’t there like an oath between you lot,  one for all and all for one, or some rot?”

“That’s the three musketeers,” he says.

“isn’t that basically who you guys are?” She reasons.

Before their wage of words could continue, Sirius just grabs the order form out of Marlene’s hands and fills out a sheet with the flurry of his pen. “Happy?”

“Positively delighted,” she leers, pecking them both on the cheek before strutting off, reminding them of their group study session at Alice’s tonight in her wake.

Sirius shakes his head, reluctantly amused with a grin gathering on the corners of his mouth, but for Remus everything feels like it’s frozen. “You didn’t have to do that you know? ’S not like James is much of a Head Boy anyhow, and Lily wouldn’t have really cared.”

Sirius shrugs, commences their walk to the opposite wing of the school for their shared history class. “Emmy likes that sort of romantical shite.”

Remus sees red, feels his heart lodging in his damn esophagus. “Oh, so— Erm,  you’re taking her then,” Remus wonders if his tone sounds as detached as he feels.

“Yeah,” Sirius eyes him, questioning. “She wants that title of snow queen real bad, made me promise I’d campaign with her and the whole shtick.”

“Oh,” it’s like Remus could feel it when he closes off completely, can feel his hopes squashed down and his heart contract and his every organ collapsing in on themselves, leaving him feeling hollowed out completely.

Sirius slows down marginally, eyeing him with a slight frown. “Is that all right? I know you two don’t exactly get along and we were planning to go as a group, bu—“

“It’s fine,” Remus hates how screechy his voice gets, how he feels like he’s about to scream. “You two are a shoe in, no doubt.”

Sirius tries to mirror Remus’s faux excitement with a tepid grin of his own, but Remus doesn’t let him, instead commandeering their typical table on the back row and tries focussing on the thousandth war with France while his world tilts off kilter.

.-

Emmy is beautiful, and popular and her smile alone dazzles the whole room. She’s everything that Sirius should look for in a partner, someone to match his whip lash wit, and his taste for all things exuberant that skirt on flashy, and someone who’s got just as many friends and admirers as him.

They’re perfect and Remus should just get over his petty ass hatred of her, even if he still thinks she can be down right cruel and selective and selfish. Qualities Sirius surely isn’t… But maybe it’s all in his head how she sneers at people who she finds plane, or how she literally guffaws over the misfortune of others. Maybe his perception of how she wields people in like moths to a flame just to get what she wants is all a misunderstanding, or in his head or something.

Maybe all that’s possible, even if Remus seriously doubts it.

But at the end of the day, Sirius loves her— has been basically infatuated by Emmeline Vance since she first transferred at the start of their Freshman year. Sirius loves her, and who ever Sirius loves is merely an extension of him… Right?

Remus just needs to get over it and somehow rid himself of this crush he’s been fostering for so long it’s basically a part of him at this point. Though, he thinks it’d be a lot easier if he didn’t see their faces plastered on posters everywhere the week and a half leading up to the dance— looking like actual royals that would put Will and cate to shame.

.-

“Yo cheekbones!”

Remus starts, swivels around from where he was scratching his pen to paper, finding Sirius— as glimmering and beautiful as always— swaggering up to him, insanely electric smile painted over his face.

“Would you rather eat a jumbo jar of jalapeños without a break, or eat the toenails from someone with athlete’s foot next to your dinner every night of the rest of your life?”

“I thought you were having lunch with Emmy to keep up your royalty status before this weekend?” Remus asks, tacitly side stepping from the horrific images swimming to the forefront of his mind because of his cruel question.

“Now that doesn’t sound like an answer to my ultimatum,” Sirius says in a singsong sort of voice.

“You answer me first,” Remus says airily.

“But I asked first,” Sirius argues haughtily.

“Well both your options would kill me, so I wouldn’t do either,” Remus retorts.

“That’s not how the game works!”

“You’re the one who always says that rules were made to be broken,” Remus says, lofty as all get out,, and dissolves into laughter at the completely cross look Sirius’s giving him.

“You were born to be contrary, weren’t you?”

“So lunch?”

“Got bored,” he shrugs, hopping onto the corner of the desk Remus’s working on. “What you up to instead of eating?”

“My position paper for Model UN.” Sirius smiles down at him, and Remus can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks in return. “Not as glamorous as running as Snow King, I know.”

“It’s precious,” Sirius contends, his soft timbre sounding like syrup and his long fingers fluttering against Remus’s skin, pushing back a lock of his ever disheveled, tawny curls in a far to gentle way, and Remus gulps before averting his gaze to break the sudden tautness that’s built between them. 

They’ve had so many of these almost moments, ones that Remus’s always treasured but he knows doesn’t mean much of anything at all to Sirius— Sirius who is effortlessly hilarious, and brims with genius and  who is so beautiful that sometimes it hurts looking at him for too long. Sirius who has a new suitor at his beck and call on a near weekly basis. But whenever they transpire now, it just hurts all the more because Remus knows in his heart of hearts that they will never lead anywhere, and Sirius is in love with Emmy and Remus can’t let himself float around in this daydream for any longer.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, shuffles in his seat only slightly. “I’m Algeria so my Mam’s pretty excited about it. She’s been telling me all the stuff Wikipedia’s got wrong and everything.”

Sirius laughs, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Your mother is kinda everything, you know that?”

Remus twists his mouth up, reluctant. “Don’t tell her as much, or else she’ll go on and on how she won Miss Teen Great Britain when she was only sixteen.”

“Hmm, I was wondering where you got that pretty face.”

“You, Sirius Black, can go lick an unwashed arse.”

“You’ll never catch a suitor with that cheek of yours though. I’d work on that, Lupin.”

“I don’t think I could ever win Miss Congeniality, alas.”  Remus doesn’t quite catch Sirius’s reply, to busy responding too the text his phone just chirped with instead.

“Mary John, are you listening?”

“Uh-huh.”

Sirius’s brows hike up, flabbergasted smile stretched across his face. “So totally rude! And I came all the way here— to the place where dreamers die— just to spend time with you.”

“Sorry,” Remus gives him an abashed little half grin before setting the phone back down. “’s just Fabian.”

Sirius’s expression drops, goes inquisitive instead of his typical ebullience. “Fabian? Why’s Fabian Prewett texting you, and why is he,” Sirius crooks his head so he’s able to read the new message that popped up on Remus’s phone’s screen. “Asking about color coordination?”

Remus blushes for an entirely new reason now, one he likes much less. “Ah, he’s the sort to like it when our suits like match, but not in an abrasive fashion, you know?”

Sirius’s face goes scarily blank.

“Your suits? Suits for what?”

“The dance…” Remus says slowly, he’s confused what Sirius’s confused about.

“The dance… Right… I thought you were still going with everyone else?”

“Pff, no way,” Remus scoffs. “Lily’s  only pretending to be single, you know how red in the face she gets whenever around James. They’ll end up dancing the whole night away. And with Dorcas running the whole event and Benjy thinking any social function is a plague on society, that’d leave me stuck with Peter and Mary, . And honestly I’ve seen enough of her tongue shoved down his throat for a lifetime.” Remus is only slightly  surprised that doesn’t even elicit a chuckle from Sirius, who’s now looking a bit stormy— and he thinks he’ll never be accustomed to his mercurial moods that can change as quickly as the snap of the finger.

“Right… So you’re going with Fabian Prewett… as your date?”

“Yes… Why is that so hard to believe?”

“it’s, it’s not,” Sirius scrambles, suddenly standing up.

“Then why are you being so weird about this,” Remus argues, getting up to meet him at his level.

“Am not!”

“You’re going with Emmy,” Remus reminds him, this edge of desperate.

“I know I am, okay. But you— you—“ Sirius tappers off, eyes glassy and lips parted with words he can’t get out, and Jesus fucking Christ is it weird how for the first time ever their roles have reversed. Sirius can’t put any sentences together, and everything Remus’s been beating down—  everything thrashing inside of him— are now burning his throat and warring over who can spill out first.

“What? I’m suppose to stay behind like the pathetic, nobody friend. The guy who’s just there to moon after you while you have an actual life. The Judie garland to your Mickie Roomie!”

“What are you even talking about right now!” Sirius shouts, sounding as torn apart as Remus feels.

“As if you don’t know!” He snarls, collecting his books into his backpack— Suddenly this room feels to stifling. He can’t breathe and it’s too hot and his chest is pounding.

He’s imploding and Remus has no idea how to rectify it.

“Just stop! Remus Stop!”

“leave me the fuck alone Sirius!”

“Why are you being such a prick about this!”

And that, that makes Remus angry, angrier than he’s ever been.

Before he could even think about it for a moment longer, Remus is rounding on him, dashing so close to Sirius that he can taste his breath with how close their faces are skirting against each other.

“I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you for forever, and I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I know that you’re in love with Emmy and, and I just know okay.”

“Wha—“ Sirius sputters, looking like a gaping fish. “Wait a second, are you jealous? Of sodding Emmy Vance?”

“Don’t!” Remus practically growls out. "Don’t disrespect me, okay? Don’t pretend that you never knew, or that I was such a good actor. I’ve been in love with you for years and you always knew and Fine, I get it. You never felt the same way, that’s fine. But just don’t pretend as if you never had the choice, don’t make me out as the bad guy for actually, finally saying yes to a bloke who’s actually into me. I need to fucking give up on the premise of us, I need to get over you. So I’m going out with fucking Fabian Prewett and you’re going out with Emmy Vance and that’s that!”

His breaths are labored, jagged and painful, as they race out of him, but Remus can’t move. He’s staring straight into Sirius’s beautiful, gray eyes, and he sees everything he’s always seen there, and hates that this is probably the last time he’ll get to be this close to him.

Not after this.

“I didn’t,” is the first thing Sirius croaks out, broken and helpless. “i didn’t know, Remus you have to believe me— I didn’t—”

“How! How could you not know!” He shouts back, but Remus doesn’t get his answer in so many words, instead he feels it.

He feels it when Sirius clamps his hands on either end of his waste-line, feels it when Sirius smashes their lips together in a cacophony of lips, and teeth and spit. He feels it when Sirius moans in side of him, when his hand moves down, spreads across the width of the small of his back, pushing their torsos even closer. Remus feels it when everything goes into focus, when he takes Sirius into his arms, greedy and excited and disbelieving.

And Remus thinks to all the other times he’s kissed another boy— To this prior weekend swapping snogs with a beaming Fabian in the back of a theatre. He thinks of how there was never anything worth anything when he kissed any of them Because it was all Sirius, always Sirius. And he could try to love Fabian, or some other cute boy, and he tried, and he tried, and he tried, and he gave all he had…but it was never enough, could it ever be enough?

Remus knows it in his bones that it’s enough when it’s with Sirius.

When they finally pull apart it’s difficult to breathe and Remus feels lightheaded and it’s wonderful in the most marvelous of ways.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sirius says in a whisper. 

“Maybe next time give a guy some warning?” Remus can’t help the shit eating smirk that swipes across his mouth and is elated at the adorably cross scowl Sirius answers him with.

“Fine jackass, how’s this for a warning, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“That’ll be sufficient, I suppose,” Remus goads, laughing against Sirius’s lips when he does just that.

~*~

Sirius ends up winning snow king, but rejects the dance with Emmy, opts to ask Remus to join him instead, as if they were in the middle of some John Hughes movie from the fucking 80s.

It’s utterly ridiculous and overdone and simply way too much— but everyone applauded and cheered and when Sirius kissed him in the middle of it, Remus felt as if his whole body sung with joy.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[salemwritesxx]

1:0 for kuroo

↳ bottom kuroo x top reader

summary: Y/n plays MonHun with his friends online, however, Kuroo, the scheming cat, has his own game he wants to play.

w.count: 1.4k

content warning: smut, porn without plot, blowjob, deepthroating while y/n is playing a video game with a headset on, swallowing, fingering

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

“NO! Nonono! UGH FUCK!”, gripping the controller tightly, or it would have flown through the living room, you clicked your tongue in annoyance when the monster on the screen killed your character, making it so you and your teammates lost the battle – again.

Kuroo was in the other room, looking through some of his work related stuff, when he heard your groaning and moaning, hence the scheming cat got out of his chair and walked over into the living room.

“Okay. Everyone, don’t forget your bombs this time so we can sleep bomb it!”, you didn’t even acknowledge your boyfriend, simply talking about your strategy with your teammates over your headset, hence making Tetsu a little bit jealous – since you didn’t give him any attention.

Smoothly crawling on the couch, as if he was a real cat, he finally got your attention when his muscular arms wrapped around your neck from the side, though before you could say anything, his swift tongue was licking along your outer ear, making you shiver and clench your teeth to suppress a surprised little groan.

“Tetsu. I’m kinda occupied right now.”, covering the mic with one hand so your teammates wouldn’t necessarily listen, you turned to him for a split second, your boyfriend however just grinning with this teasing glint in his golden eyes.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Y/n. Just play your game.”, Kuroo purred, before leaning in once more and sucking on your neck so shamelessly that you couldn’t help but shiver again, though you didn’t say much to it anymore when you turned back to your game and started preparing for the next quest.

However, Kuroo had his own ‘game’ he played when he laid down onto his belly and his hand slipped down your torso and on top of your lap, earning your little hiss as you instinctively spread your legs a bit more – making him chuckle with delight, knowing that you couldn’t resist him or his touches.

“Seriously! Babe! What if they hear?!”, you once more covered the mic as you talked to your boyfriend one last time, trying to get through to him and that him touching you so wantonly was very bad right now since 3 other people could literally listen to your moans if you weren’t careful.

Though Kuroo just silently looked up with those glowing, gold eyes and that messy hair that just begged you to bury your hand into it to mess it up even more, but you resisted as the loading screen faded and your quest began, thus your hands were back on the controller to play.

“It’s your fault for not giving me attention, Kitty.”, he purred eventually and giggled afterwards when he hooked his fingers into your pants and pulled them down without a second thought, exposing your soft dick.

Not wasting another second, he softly wrapped his lips around the tip without even preparing you, making you groan while biting your lip to suppress it. Kuroo simply sucked on your cock gently, almost… lazily. Not rushing at first as he played with your cockhead, letting the tip of his tongue flick against your urethra and teasingly pushing it in just a little, before swirling his wet muscle around, soon tasting drops of precum.

“Fuck, Tetsu!”, you had already pushed the mic up and away from your mouth when you couldn’t hold back a light growl, though it wasn’t just about your friends possibly hearing you, it also affected your play when you were the one to go down to the monster’s KO-Attack first.

“Dude! You need to concentrate!”, said one of your teammates, hence you just deeply growled an “I am!” back, which wasn’t true at all, especially when Tetsu scooched in closer and swallowed more of your fully hard cock by now – damn you, you reacted way too easily and fast to his teasing.

Pressing his thighs together, Kuroo himself was pretty affected just by sucking you off, his own dick growing in his pants and his hand quite quickly slipping back and underneath his clothes to press two fingers against his twitching ass, rubbing against his hole and making himself moan around your cock, the want to be fucked growing each second.

“Oh mY GOD!”, you groaned out, at this point your lips had marks of your own teeth in them, yet you couldn’t hold it back when your cock hit the back of your boyfriend’s throat so easily, Kuroo not even gagging or anything, simply moaning so lewdly around your thick shaft, before ever so slowly pulling back. And after sucking on your cockhead for a few seconds, releasing it with a pop.

Panting a little, tears were already in his golden eyes. A few moments later, he pulled his hand up, spit into it and slipped it back down into his pants and underwear, smearing the make-shift lube around his hole so he could push one finger in.

That spectacle alone was making your cock visibly bounce, because even though you tried to stare onto the big screen, in the corner of your eyes, you could also watch your boyfriend fingering himself as best as he could, only to lightly jump and then jerk your hips when his warm, wet mouth engulfed your cock once more.

Clawing onto your thigh with his free hand, Kuroo bobbed his head, letting his tongue once more explore your little hole as he teased it and pushed his tip slightly inside to earn your delightful hissing, before swallowing your cock whole in one go again, your head hitting the back of his throat and making him choke and moan around your dick in bliss.

Panting already, you wondered if your friends could listen, though at this point you merely thought, “Fuck it!”, since it felt too good, the fight in front of you almost forgotten as you lazily dodged a few attacks, trying not to get killed a second time.

Pushing his fingers in as deep as he could, he explored his ass while his mouth was busy and for a moment, he held your cock between his lips – fully swallowed – before starting to move his head once more, thrusting your dick into his mouth without any restraint, his choked out moans only indicating how good he felt.

“Tetsu, I’m gonna…”, trying to warn him quietly, your hips were inevitably jerking into his mouth as well, hence he pulled back a little to let you thrust into his hot, wet cavern while his fingers vigorously moved, however, sadly, not getting the same satisfaction that you could give him since he couldn’t push as deep as he wanted in the position he was in.

“Baby, fuck! Fuck!”, you pressed out between gritted teeth, your thrusts became erratic and irregular between his lips, your fingers on the controller twitching as you wanted nothing more but to grab his hair and push him down, yet you had to attack the monster on the screen.

Moaning loudly himself, he spurred you on with his lewd, blissful sounds, the bouncing from your cock on his tongue so vivid that he knew you were so, so close, before he pushed down one last time fully, your cock buried balls-deep between his lips as you growled and panted, a blissful moan the last thing escaping your own lips as you released.

Kuroo immediately swallowed, not wasting any second as he gulped down your hot seed, his lips vibrating from his choked pleasurable sounds.

Pulling back at last, you were gasping for breath and your cock bounced back against your tummy, while Kuroo sat back up and pulled out his fingers as well, however the visible outline of his cock against his sweatpants, as well as the dark wet spot from his precum, was enough to make you close the game.

“Sorry, there was a disconnect, let’s talk later!”

Maybe it was a little obvious, especially with the way you panted into the mic, but you didn’t care when you turned it off to put it onto the table, your teammates long forgotten.

“Ahn!”, moaning and also kind of laughing when you tackled him at last, you both fell back into the soft cushions that were adorning your sofa, Tetsu’s grin teasing you, his heart thumping wildly and his legs immediately slung around your hips.

“You are seriously so annoying!”

“I know.”, he laughed, knowing you were joking as well when you laughed with him, before groaning into your mouth when your full lips met his for a passionate kiss.

With that, the scheming cat won his game once again.

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

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

writer’s note: my current obsession is the new monhun rise! so… i thought it was only natural for me to want someone to… “help” during my hunts ;) (lmfao pls don’t take me seriously) anyone who plays monhun here? i’ve been playing monhun since mh4u and for me, as of now i think mh world iceborne is better but that’s probs cuz i am a solo player only and capcom says a big fat fuck you to solo players in rise, so yeah.. i like rise, but being a solo main insect glaive player, i like world iceborne much more for now!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 290: It’s Touya Time

Previously on BnHA: Iida and Hadou showed up like a couple of Pennsylvanias and Georgias to bail Shouto out at the last minute. Ochako and Toga had an exceptionally strange fight which consisted of Toga being all “guess what Ochako, I used your quirk to murder someone, how do you feel about that”, and Ochako being all “I do not like that”, to which Toga was all “:(”. There was some doll-stealing and some bookcase-yeeting, and then Toga left in tears because Ochako was all adamant that murder has consequences. Anyway so I have absolutely no idea what Toga is thinking now, but I guess we’ll have some time to stew on it, because we ended the chapter by cutting back to the Iida+Hadou+Shouto VS Afomura battle, which was interrupted by Gigantomachia and the LoV showing up like a bunch of Floridas to ruin everyone’s nice day.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi hands the mic over to Dabi and is all “take it away, kid.” Over in Room 315 of Musutafu General, Rei is all “may I please watch some TV” and the hospital staff is all “sure”, and so she tunes in just in time to catch Todoroki Touya’s Peabody Award-winning documentary “Number One Hero, Number One Fraud: The Todoroki Enji Story”, which is being broadcast nationwide courtesy of Skeptic and his magic laptop. Meanwhile in Jakku, Dabi is all “I’M TOUYA, BITCHES”, and Shouto and Enji are all, “(゜◇゜ )”, and Dabi is all, “anyway so just to sum it all up, because of how much of a jerk Endeavor was, I am now Evil.” Everyone continues to be all “(ﾟoﾟ)” except for Dabi, who is all “└(˘▾˘┌ )≡ ( ┐˘▾˘)┘≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛≡┏( ˘▾˘)┓≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛” for pretty much the rest of the chapter. Idk. Just let the man have his fun, guys. He’s waited a long time for this.

y’all I have a confession to make. I am technically not spoiled for this chapter thanks to my robustly paranoid system of spoiler-tag-filtering, which is extensive enough that it pretty much will catch whenever someone so much as breathes something even remotely new-chapter-related. that being said, I like to think that I am capable of making basic logical inferences! and so the fact that for the past 36 hours, my dashboard has pretty much nonstop consisted almost entirely of this...

...has led me to conclude that MAYBE, POSSIBLY, PROBABLY, BUT ALSO DEFINITELY, a certain someone is finally going to reveal his ~secret identity~ woop woop. lmao

anyway so everyone, please remember to act surprised though, as we would not want Dabi’s feelings to be hurt at all. he has been planning this moment for the last decade or so and I wouldn’t want him to feel like all of that effort was for naught. so just play along, okay. OH MY, IF IT ISN’T THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS’ MYSTERIOUS DABI. WHATEVER COULD HIS ARRIVAL POSSIBLY BE HERALDING, I JUST DON’T KNOW

“Dabi’s Dance” lmao. I’m sticking with Touya Time myself. ngl I had this recap title planned out for at least the past year or so. just waiting for that day to finally come

anyway so some people in some building somewhere are all “TURN OFF THE TV IN ROOM 315” and idk. I’m guessing the LoV is hacking the airwaves to livestream the reveal, as predicted

-- oh shit. UHHHHHHHH

did she always have this TV or did she get it just recently?? jfc of all the times for the hospital staff to finally loosen up

um... so that’s... (・＿・；)

well but I mean, she was gonna find out one way or the other at some point though. like you can’t really just keep her locked up and isolated from all news of the outside world forever and ever and ever. granted, this isn’t exactly the ideal way for her to learn this particular bit of information, but it’s not really ideal for anybody else either! EXCEPT DABI, THAT IS. have yourself a day you funky little terrorist

oh shit what is this?? it’s not live???

over in Jakku, a red-faced, sputtering Dabi makes a frantic grab for Skeptic’s laptop. “WAIT, NO, JESUS, NOT THAT TAPE!”

lol. but seriously Dabi are you even wearing a shirt. like I’m not one to slutshame anyone bro, but it’s just, exactly what type of mood were you looking to set here??

anyway so we really are cutting back to Jakku now, and Gigantomachia is all, “MASTERS”! which, I wonder if he really did use the plural? that’s right Machia, both of them in one place now! that sure is convenient for you huh

lol what is this with all this AFO monologuing. you’re really gonna make me read through this when I’m sitting here all sleep-deprived from election week. JUST GET TO THE TOUYAS. WE WERE PROMISED TOUYAS!!

sigh

“tee hee it’s fucking hilarious how goddamn powerful I am now lol”

alas, in spite of myself I do have two serious takeaways from this. one is that AFO is still controlling most of Tomura’s body behind the scenes, which both does and doesn’t bode well for Tomura (like, at least he’s not dying, but the long-term implications of this for his free will and such certainly are not Good). and two is that this confirms that Ujiko did give Tomura at least one powerful mutant quirk, which explains why he was still so deadly and indestructible even when Aizawa was using Erasure on him (since Erasure doesn’t work on mutant quirks, just emitter and transformation ones)

MEANWHILE ON TODAY’S EPISODE OF “TODOROKI SHOUTO’S TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD LIFE”

I like how he doesn’t actually say that he can’t take on Gigantomachia. just that he can’t take on him and Afomura at the same time. that’s confidence, baby. that right there is why you always draft Todoroki Shouto in the first round for your fantasy team

HADOU!!!!

OOOH, TOMURA’S ALL “MAN, THIS GIRL’S WAVE POWERS AND THIS KID’S ICE POWERS ARE A SUPER-STRONG COMBO DAGNABBIT.” YESSS I LIKE THAT, TELL ME MORE ABOUT HOW COOL AND POWERFUL THEY ARE

HOT DAMN LOOK AT THAT

um but not to take away from this exceptionally cool moment or anything, but why is Endeavor dying and shouting “RUN” down there in the corner um

oh

excuse me. not to take away from How Bad This All Is, but!!

just a little, smol, IidaBaku for everyone. Iida, who apparently doesn’t know a damn thing about first aid and is all, “hmm that’s a pretty bad-looking puncture wound he has in his left shoulder there, I think I’ll just let his arm dangle freely like that and I won’t bother taking off his heavy gauntlets either. I mean. he’ll be fine, probably.” smh. at least Shouto probably cauterized the wounds

EXCUSE ME WHAT

TIME FOR MORE OF THAT GOOD OLD FASHIONED SHOUNEN RIDICULOUSNESS I GUESS LMAO. KACCHAN YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO. THERE IS A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, AND YOU LOST LIKE FOUR GALLONS OF BLOOD, BUT SURE. “PUT ME DOWN” HE SAYS. FIRST OF ALL, PUTTING ASIDE THE FACT THAT YOU ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT BE CONSCIOUS, THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO DO, LIE DOWN AT THEM?? LISTEN, YOU SWEET IDIOT. TAKE HEED, BELOVED DUMBASS!!

ah well. I guess he gets to watch the Touya Show now too then lol

LMAOOOO now Machia’s lifting Tomura carefully in his palm like a broken action figure and Spinner is all “THE FUCK, YOU LOOK LIKE DEATH WARMED OVER”

“oh hey there Spinner. well let’s see, I woke up from my three-month coma and destroyed a city, had my body incinerated, and am currently being possessed by a diabolically evil potato. but please, tell me more about everything you've been through”

AW YISS AND THE FOCUS NOW SHIFTS TO THE TODOROKIS. EVERYTHING IS PROCEEDING EXACTLY AS WE HAVE FORESEEN

Endeavor my dude. it’s as if you want to die here. also holy shit, that bit about his lungs definitely does not bode well for him either

MOTHERFUCKER

GO AHEAD AND SIGN YOUR OWN DEATH CERTIFICATE, WHY DON’T YOU!! FLAGS UPON FLAGS. JESUS CHRIST

meanwhile Dabi’s just waving at ‘em

lmaoooo please oh please Caleb please keep this ‘EYYYYYYY’, it’s fucking perfect kdlshk;hg

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: so as you will see very shortly, I completely missed this detail in my first read-through because I was so anxious to get to the reveal page, but THIS MOTHERFUCKER LITERALLY DOUSED HIMSELF WITH INSTANT HAIR DYE REMOVER THAT HE’S JUST BEEN CARRYING AROUND IN A LITTLE HIP POUCH APPRENTLY SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. MOTHERFUCKER. I HAVE NO WORDS.)

IS THIS THE TIME. IS THIS THE MOMENT?! HERE IT COMES SLKFHS BRACE YERSELVES LADS

EYYYYYYYYYYYY

OKAY EVERYONE JUST LIKE WE PRACTICED!! SURPRISED FACES ON THREE! ONE... TWO... (•̪ o •̪) !! okay how was that

LMAO ENDEAVOR

at least Shouto looks properly stunned. Enji just looks like endeavor.exe just straight up stopped working

meanwhile Deku’s out here trying to do the math on this latest surprise family reveal! first Tomura is related to Nana, and now this. what’s next. who are you related to, Spinner. he rips off his boots to reveal engine legs and declares himself Iida’s long-lost uncle

oh shit Touya

it’s as if a million fanworks suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly jossed. who knew that all this time he was secretly sporting a crop top scar

also, THIRTY?! holy shit son you been busy

la la la two-page spread of Touya casually driving the dagger into Endeavor’s hero career and rocking the foundations of hero society as we know it la la la

la la la!!!

OH IS THAT THE END OF THE STORY THEN

almost got confused for a sec. there’s two monologues happening at once here. Endeavor doesn’t even know that his dirty laundry is being aired out nation-wide as we speak ffffff

btw while I appreciate the close-ups of Enji and Shouto here for sure, ngl I would also really love to see everyone else’s reactions right now. SHOW ME BAKUGOU AND THE LOV YOU COWARDS

is his hair actually turning white all of a sudden?? your hair dye just reacts on command??

(ETA: in all seriousness though, the hell kind of hair dye was he using? all he has to do is pour a bottle of that stuff and not even lather it in and it’s just gone just like that?? what the fuck would have have done if it ever rained lmao.

and this motherfucker just goes and leaves the dye remover in afterwards, too. I have never dyed my hair in my life and even I can tell you that’s probably not a good idea, Dabi.)

is this it. is this the legendary Dabi Dance in action. lmfao

oh hey what the fuck

so you figured you’d just murder your innocent younger brother to get revenge on dad, huh. well that’s nice

is that really all there is to the origin story though?? feels like we’re still missing a huge chunk of it. what was it that finally sent him over the edge? or was the trauma of being created as Endeavor’s perfect little hero tool and then being subsequently rejected by him enough on its own? because I’m still kind of confused on the part where he goes from “abused and discarded by his father” to “killed thirty people and was plotting the murder of his own brother” to tell you the truth

(ETA: lmao the initial fandom reaction to this did not disappoint. listen guys. people can be traumatized and shaped by awful circumstances that are completely out of their control, and grow up to be people they wouldn’t have grown up to be if things had been better, and all of that absolutely sucks, but. it doesn’t mean they get a get-out-of-jail-free card for all of their future actions, either! the tragedy of this situation is that terrible things happened to Touya, and he then went on to do terrible things himself. the tragedy of it is that this is exactly how the cycle of abuse keeps repeating itself on and on and on. maybe one of the people Dabi killed had a child who will now grow up traumatized themselves, and potentially go on to pay it forward themselves when they grow up. the tragedy is that the eye-for-an-eye justice that Touya is seeking out won’t actually make anything better in the end. the tragedy is that we understand why Touya is so angry, but that anger has basically warped him into the gleefully sadistic dancing figure we see in this chapter who has stopped caring about anyone else’s pain or suffering and just wants his own revenge.

anyway. basically what I’m trying to say is that it’s possible for the concepts of “Todoroki Touya was an innocent child and a victim of abuse” and “Dabi is a grown-ass motherfucking adult who killed thirty people and PROBABLY NEEDS TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THAT” to coexist lol. like, y’all wanted your moral grey, well HERE YOU GO lmao, eat up.)

lol but LOOK AT THAT BOY DANCE HIS LITTLE HEART OUT though

Todoroki Touya confirmed not a fan of the Endeavor redemption arc huh. well we all saw this coming lols

anyways here’s a sexy Touya for y’all

you really are the most theatrical bitch I s2g lmao

also for real though, what is happening with his hair? anime team in shambles here. they’re probably just gonna double down and keep it red. too bad though cuz this is a surprisingly good look on him

SO MANY CLOSE-UPS OF THE TODOROKI FACES

friendly reminder that Dabi without a doubt REHEARSED this speech like a thousand fucking times. LET US FALL TOGETHER!! COME DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL. apparently if you fake your own death in middle school you will never mentally age past that point and will remain a permanent chuuni

OH LMAO THAT’S THE END

we really just gonna end on “DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL”, huh. very well then. you know what song to play, Horikoshi. one, two... YOU ARE MY DAD. YOU’RE MY DAD!! BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE

[tenebriism]

It was the appearance of a storm that had forced them to take shelter, with Link gently tugging his disabled companion into the ruins of a house that had been abandoned for gods only knew how long. Though it was nowhere near as comfortable as an inn, it was dry and would do for the night. Curling his fingers around Maru's prosthetic hand, Link carefully drew the other boy down to sit beside him on the dusty old floor, wondering if his friend even had an inkling of the terrible weather that was raging just outside of their shelter. Was he cold? Asking one who couldn't hear would do him no good, he knew - so instead, he reached over to gently coax the damp clothes from his companion's skin, not wanting him to catch sick. He could get Maru to curl up in one of their bedrolls afterwards, with any luck...

I think this was prompted, LMFAO ;; [ HYAKKIMARU ] :

         Maru could sense the calculated pace at which Link had begun to travel. The blurred aura afront him had seemingly taken a shift, from one of the routine, sometimes even LEISURELY stride they kept to as they traversed Hyrule's tainted landscape, to one with a more pointed purpose, leading Maru to believe something had gone amiss.

        No running--- thusly, it was not a beast. Calamity's goons were EASY to detect by the hauntingly crimson aura that wafted off their forms, but all he could see was Link's nearly blinding purity as he was tugged forth. The gentle guidance with which Link lead him along kept him calm, however, to the point he seemed to settle into a state of complete and practiced OBEDIENCE. He could follow the movement of the hero's limbs, managing to bend himself into a sitting position without bringing Link down with him ( this IS what he wanted, right? ), after which, he merely sat there with his legs folded beneath him while Link removed his clothing, head turned to face the only sense of comfort, reassurance, and company he could depend on.

       " . . . ? "        

          A cant of his head, yet his expression tells naught of what courses through his mind. Is Link okay? It hadn't seemed urgent, in terms of threats, but perhaps a different sort of threat had trailed them -- one that Maru could not sense -- and if that had been the case...

                             The boy shuffles forward, padding at the spot beside him where the outline of Link's aura wavered, until he was certain he could lean himself into it without, instead, eating the dirt. It's not exact, by any means -- if he COULD see himself, the raven haired swordsman would notice he had, in fact, leaned his cheek against the hero's shoulder, but the gesture was meant as a means to remind the hero that he was not alone.

         If nothing else... Maru could provide company. He only hoped it would come to help LINK as much as Link's company had come to help HIM, in their time together.

@ironbloodcd ;; ♥

[vydante]

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 8

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: undecided)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Long- 4.7k words. Hell yeah. Also: the GIF has little to do with the story LMFAO. There’s not really a fitting one, tbh... Sorry it took me a while to update, but hey, I promised in one of my last asks it’d be here by the end of July!

"Excuse me?"

"I do not know you to have hearing problems young Stark!"

You knew that your summer had been going a bit too smoothly. You just finished your nanotech suit, somehow with all this outdated tech, you had multiple wonderful shopping sprees with your mom (and as expected, your dad threw fits every time), and your summer project was going swimmingly...

That was until Thor had barged in with his hammer in one hand and a duffle bag in the other.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as Thor stared down at your slouched form with an intensity that made you uncomfortable, despite knowing that all that was probably on his mind was, well. You set down the hologram pad and turned around to fully face him.

You inhaled and tried to gather your thoughts.

"You're telling me... You want to go to China... Because...?"

His whole body seems to shake with his laugh. Your ears ring, having sat in a quiet room for nearly the whole day now. He stops laughing, but his infectious smile is still ever so present as he speaks up.

"I read on the interwebs of cuisine out of this world, and it said that this China has exactly that!"

You squinted and opened and closed your mouth, perplexed. You had so many questions- more so than before.

Where the hell had he heard that? That was so vague- cuisines? Since when was he into cuisine? And why China specifically?

Your lips were pressed in a thin line. You weren't too sure if you cared enough to know all of the specifics. And quite frankly, you're scared that it'll only give you more questions than answers- after all, anything goes when it comes to Thor.

"... Okay, and?" You tilted your head to add onto that sarcastic 'and'. "Why're you telling me this- I'm not your dad."

"Of course you're not my father! I am Thor, son of Odin, not of (Name)! I just want you to take me there!"

You rolled your eyes all the way into the back of your skull. Of course, he'd respond like that- he wasn't as accustomed to Earth humor as the Thor you knew. And with that ass-backward logic- that you had to be the one to take him there- didn't help with your frustration.

You picked at your chair's armrest, pulling at the already worn down faux leather skin bit by bit. You probably need to buy another chair, huh?

You exhaled softly, eyeing the Norse god who was grinning at you expectedly.

"... Why...? Can't you just- fly there? Using Mjolnir?"

Your eyes didn't miss the glint of said hammer. It probably won't be a comfortable ride, but it doesn't seem like the blonde would mind flying through the wind for a few hours at most. He patted your shoulders.

"Yes, but as you may know: I cannot speak Chinese."

He said that with an all too matter of factly tone that irked you, but also brought an ugly chortle out of your throat. You playfully slapped his hand away, eyes wide but crinkled with your wide grin.

"Dude- and who says I can?! I'm not all-knowing!" You waved your hands around with wide eyes painted with light mockery.

"Are you not?"

He tilts his head like a golden retriever. You snorted and turned around to try and focus back on what you were doing beforehand.

"No. Go by yourself, thunder thighs."

"But I even packed my stuff!"

He lifts his duffle bag- as if that was sufficient enough to call 'packing'. Hell, you wouldn't even be surprised if it was filled with random junk not meant for traveling. You rolled your eyes at how childish he was, standing there as if he was asking you to chaperone his field trip.

"Okay, and?"

That might be your new catchphrase just to combat all the silliness that was Thor.

He pouts his lips and tries to give you the puppy dog eyes. He's acting cute now, but you know if you take him to China he'll act a fool of himself. And besides, there's a high chance he won't find what he's looking for there.

You sighed quietly, knowing that Thor won't push you too far to do something you don't want to, but he'll definitely be sulking for a while afterward.

You mulled over it for a second, before it hit you.

China.

He wants to go to China. And where is China?

Right next to Nepal.

And where do you need to- oh, it doesn't need to spell it out for you does it?

You tried fighting back the grin, silently thanking the stars for having aligned right for you just this once, and pretended to debate on whether or not you should actually take him or not.

He rocked on the balls of his feet and dragged a whiny 'please?', which was the 'tipping point' for you. It wasn't, really- your mind was already made up by the sudden revelation, but still. A flair for dramatics wouldn't hurt.

"Ugh, you know what- fine, I'll take you to China." He cheered out loud, but you raised a finger before he could jump to conclusions, "But! Only for a weekend!" His expression dropped for a moment, but he was still grinning ear to ear, "I still have other stuff to do... Wha-!"

You felt your lungs get caught as he drops Mjolnir and his duffle bag on the ground, and your bottom was suddenly no longer touching the chair you were sat on. Instead, it was in the air now as Thor grabbed you from under your arms and bear-hugged you while swinging you around like a ragdoll.

"Hnng-!"

You wheezed into his neck, but he doesn't hear it over his boisterous laugh.

"You are my favorite Stark for a reason!"

Ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks at his bold statement, you smacked his back to let you down. You were struggling to breathe as he practically bomb rushed your lungs. He lets you down, but he's still hugging you tightly and swaying side to side. You coughed and patted his back, praying that he'll let go anytime soon for you to breathe properly.

"Relax, there's only- ugh- two of us so there's not- not much competition anyways. But- ack- thanks- now let go...!"

He finally relaxes his grip on you and lets you go, much to your ribs' relief. You groaned, sure that bruises were definitely going to form around your chest from him. He chuckles and mentions something about 'mortals', but you didn't care much to listen.

He picks up his stuff and turns around to your hunched form with a bright smile- brighter than the one he had earlier.

"So, should we go now?"

"You know, I'm not too surprised you got scammed."

You rummaged through your duffle bag, searching for some pajamas to 'sleep the night away', so to speak. You ignored Thor as he spread eagle on his bed with nothing but a waist towel to cover him, but it wasn't really doing much of its job as you can definitely tell his, ah, hammer was out in your peripherals. You made a mental reminder to get some eye-bleach later as your ears turn red. 

Your embarrassment goes unnoticed as Thor cried out dramatically.

"They said the food was magnificent!"

"Yeah, well, people lie sometimes. Or maybe their definition of good is different from yours. But hey, cheer up- we got to eat from other places, and they were delicious."

You weren't lying. The first day was spent looking for the particular restaurant Thor was talking about- and as it turns out, it was just a weird brothel. The 'cuisines' Thor was talking about was a crude translation of 'Chinese prostitutes' so that was... An experience. You two made sure to get that taken care of before you moved on.

While the one place you- more like Thor- was looking forward to was not what it was chalked up to be, there were a bunch of other places that definitely made up for that in terms of actual food. Well, judging by Thor's pout, maybe it was just satisfying for you, anyways.

"But it does not quench my disappointment."

You pulled your clothes out and tossed the bag to the side. You made a B line toward the bathroom as Thor tried settling into his bed. You almost stepped onto the towel he, at some point, had now thrown onto the ground haphazardly.

"Yeah, yeah, tell me that tomorrow when we have to fly back to New York. Go to sleep, Aussie John Smith."

"I am still upset..."

Even with the door closed, you could still hear the disappointment heavy in his voice.

"Sleep. Now."

"God, I hope he's asleep."

Your eyes dart over to his slumbering figure, comfortably sprawled out onto the rather small bed- for a man of his stature anyways. You tried your best to put a blanket over him, lest he gets cold or something (really, it was more for modesty as both his moons were out in full display, along with everything else), but every time you looked away for even a second, half of it was on the ground. At that point, you just gave up. 

His loss.

You'll just need to remember to tip the workers here if they were to be greeted with his hammer at any point.

"He is, don't worry."

A disembodied but smooth Australian accent whispers back to you. Familiarity buzzes in the back of your head, but you dismissed it.

You hum in response and zipped up your jacket all the way. It may be summer, but where you were heading might be cold. And besides, it was the tightest fit you could pack in your bag. You adjusted your shoes and take one glance in the mirror in the adjacent bathroom. Your eyes linger around your neck, and you click your tongue.

You readjusted the leather collar so it wouldn't leave a mark on you later. It wasn't too thick, but it was definitely big enough to be a collar versus an itty bitty choker. You were torn between this and other styles of accessories- hell, you even considered making the same component your dad had- one over where your sternum would be. But your first model would always be your collar, so that was a start.

You figured that you being here, years before yours, had already altered it in some way. You figured that making this- your new suit- yes, it would change how things would turn up from then on. But technically, as long as you kept it in the back burner, you wouldn't really change the future, per se... 

Yeah. This suit was just a backup. In case... In case something happened to your more mechanical suit. Or if it was unavailable.

Hopefully, you shouldn't have to resort to doing something like that.

You gaze lingers a bit on the collar, and you tilted your head around. It didn't look bad per se, but you knew you couldn't just walk around wearing this. You could wear it under a collared or turtleneck shirt, but that wouldn't last long. It wasn't a viable long term solution- unless you just... Blend it into your lifestyle?

You shake your head, already having resigned to a previously made lapse in judgment.

You weren't too sure if you wanted it to be a collar, so you already had plans to make other versions of this, just in case. But for now, it was what you knew, so of course, it had to be the first model- for the nanotech, anyways. Technically speaking, this would either be Mark-22 or Mark-94...

It doesn't matter.

You walk out of the building, thankful that there weren't really many people around for a busy city as this. You shuffled around behind the hotel and into an empty alleyway. You tried your best to ignore the smell of rotting food- it wasn't as bad as some of the places around New York, but it wasn't pleasant regardless. There were also other scents mixed into the equation, but you weren't keen on lingering around to find out what it was.

You doublechecked around the corner just to make sure that no one was around before turning around.

"DAHLIA, how's it going?"

You murmured quietly.

DAHLIA was the name of your old A.I. The voice wasn't exactly the same as their original predecessor, but it was close enough. You would name it differently, but you were already used to DAHLIA, so it seemed redundant to make a new one right now.

There wasn't really anything too deep about the name- like how J.A.R.V.I.S. was named after Tony's butler, and FRIDAY was just a silly little joke. For you, you just named it after a flower that really... Resonated with you when you first named her, especially after the whole fight at the airport and finding your dad... Anyways. Nowadays, it was just a pretty name to you.

"All systems up and ready, doll."

The same voice from earlier replies back. Your hand traveled to your neck and activated your suit. You felt the metal form over your shoulder, down your spide, and up your scalp. You watched your own reflection in the puddle underneath you quickly replace itself with that oh-so-familiar yet smoother helmet. 

Your vision goes dark and all of the city ambiances is muffled, then it all goes clear. Colors and lights flash open, and there's a bunch of U.I. huds popping up everywhere. While you can hear perfectly, everything's crisper now, but not overwhelming. You gazed over all of the information in front of you... All systems working perfectly- it strikes you now when you realize this was your first time actually taking this model out of the tower.

"Good... Well, time to take this baby out on a joyride, yeah?"

"Who's this joyful for- me or you? Judging by your spiked heart rate, it's not yours, and I can vouch that it's not for me either."

You ran your tongue over your front teeth and resisted the urge to scratch your arm. And to beat DAHLIA's thick head in for being a brat. 

("You programmed me this way, doll." A phrase she said a lot, annoyingly enough. She wasn't wrong.)

"You can just say I'm nervous, sweetums." You made sure to lay it on heavy with the fake sweetness in your words.

Maybe it was just a gene that carried through from your dad to you, but it always seemed like your A.I.'s, no matter what, had more personality than the average person would like. But then again, it adds more flavor, no?

"Don't make me demote you to BUTTERCUP."

Buttercup flowers represented childishness, like what was spewing out of DAHLIA's computerized mouth.

"As if you'd have the gall to do that, doll."

You ignored the layers of mockery and rolled your eyes dramatically. She was right, but it'd take hell to freeze over for you to ever admit that to her.

"Just pul'up the route to Nepal."

There were a few pop-ups from scanning the room, but the main one you were looking at was a map from Chengdu, China, to Nepal. It was a little far for your taste, so you were glad it was nighttime.

You just hope that you'll be able to stay awake in the morning for the flight home... Who knows, maybe this trip will help with jetlag when you get home.

"Alright, let's take a stroll through Nepal... DAHLIA, you know what to do." 

Your repulsers flare up and you jet straight into the sky. Stabilizers on your back keep your flight up steady and smooth, a far cry from your previous model's jerky movements. 

"Camouflage Mode: On. Playing: Pumped Up Kicks."

"... Not the song I was expecting, but sure."

"Skip."

"Playing: Gangnam Style."

"Off- off, no- yeah, no- no, silence. Silence, yeah? I'm tired of your bullshit, missy."

"Sure thing, doll."

You wanted to throat punch the tinge of humor in her voice. It had already been around an hour into your flight to Nepal, and you were ready to rip your hairs out. You weren't rushing at first, not really, so you took your time on the way there. And boy, did you just want this to be over with. DAHLIA was nonstop playing the trashiest songs and acted like she didn't know what she was doing-

"Doll, if I may be allowed to interject in your brooding,-"

"I'm not brooding-"

"- I am curious to know how you plan to seek out the answers to your dilemma... Assuming you even have the questions to ask, if I may be bold in saying such. Which I am."

You suddenly stopped, hovering above the clouds as you blank out for a second.

"Well, shit- what the hell am I gonna ask?"

You almost pondered over it, but knowing that you already had all the time in the world to come up with questions and still had none prepared just meant that you weren't gonna get much in the span of a few hours.

You resumed your flight with a resigned sigh.

"You know what- I'm just- gonna wing it. Yeah, winging it."

"That's..."

"A dumb idea? Yeah, maybe, definitely actually, but uh, I'm too nervous right now to think. Just gotta- gotta keep flying baby, that's all we can do right now."

"And besides," a flash of orange easily catches your attention- too easily, considering it was all pitch black over the mountains of Nepal. There's a figure down in the mountains, and their head was pointed directly in your direction. "It's not like we have all the time in the world to think of questions right now, do we?"

The figure doesn't move. If anything, it just stands there and watches you, as if they were dissecting every movement you made as you quickly descended down to the ground. You surely didn't miss the U.I. hud blink in the corner of your eyes. 

'Repulsor Canons: On Standby'

You made no moves to tell DAHLIA to stand down with the repulsors just in case they weren't friendly. The fact that the person even knew you were there, what with your camo mode on, told you more than enough to warrant caution. Your heart beating thrums through your ears and you barely heard DAHLIA murmur with concern.

"No, not at all. Be careful, doll. The area displays signs of heavy spacial manipulation..."

You didn't ask any questions from that, voice already caught in your throat.

"You come here often?"

It was a lot less cold than you were expecting, but you still kept your helmet on just in case. A blow to the noggin wouldn't be pleasant, but it'd definitely hurt less with it on. 

Even with the helmet helping you, all you could see was a figure draped in robes, and they had a pretty long hood covering their face. They were probably like Strange, as you recognized that orange spark from anywhere... And besides, it was the only logical (despite there being actual fucking magic) explanation considering the only thing surrounding the two of you was mountains and dead grass.

"You are not native to this timeline, Stark."

It shouldn't have been a surprise that she knew who you were- everyone not living under a rock did- but hearing that still made your skin crawl. She knew who you really were- or at least, who you aren't.

"Then you'll know why I'm here."

"Funny of you to say that, when I'm confident not even you know why you're here..."

Your stomach lurched from being called out like that. You didn't know what to say to that- it wasn't like she was wrong. Not at all, actually.

She lifts her hoodie and sends you a smile, but you weren't too sure if you could trust her just yet. But it wasn't like you had much of a choice, considering she might be the one to actually provide you some answers. She waves her hand and orange sparks fly around you as your environment shifts. You step back and watched as building structures appear out of nowhere. It was... Beautiful, despite your hatred for anything that strays from science and into magic. 

"Told you..." DAHLIA whispers. You swallowed down the bile from the visual trip.

"Holy shit..."

The robed lady still looks at you, amusement dancing in her eyes as she nods her head towards the entrance.

"... If you'd like, we can discuss this inside, where it's warm. And we have tea, as well."

"I don't know what to do if I'm being honest with you."

If you were the Ancient One- or how she introduced herself-, you would've kicked yourself out of the temple for coming here half-cocked. You didn't even know where to start with this whole conversation now that you two were settled now.

You avoided her gaze and admired the architectural design inside the temple as you both sat across from each other. Your helmet now retracted as you glanced at your reflection into the cup of tea. Your hair was a mess, but it was tasteful, at least.

"I can see that. To come here with no goal in mind isn't a smart plan."

"But it's better than roaming around willy nilly. It's already bad enough I came so late. Besides... Coming here will at least be an attempt at some closure."

You fiddled with the cup, tracing your finger back and forth over the rim absentmindedly. 

"Closure to what, if I may ask?"

Your eyebrow twitched at the softness of her tone. Your grip on the cup tightened as a shadow loomed over your eyes. She looks at you expectantly and sips. Moments pass before a sigh escapes you and you lean back into the chair, running your hands through your hair.

"... Not too sure myself."

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume that, by the law of an unknown force," Sarcasm dripped with every word, but she didn't falter in her gaze, "You can't tell me... What'll happen in the future, huh?"

She shakes her head.

"There are endless possibilities the future holds that restrains me from giving a proper answer that'll satisfy you."

You laughed humorlessly. Great. Of course. What else were you expecting?

A weight settles in your chest, the realization that you might not even get any satisfying answer from this trip- this trip that you had been nervously looking forward to- creeps up your spine. You blink owlishly, and she mirrors your own expression.

"... Can you at least tell me what happens after- after my timeline? Or before I... Before I left?"

"I'm afraid not, Stark."

You licked your lips. Damn.

"I... See."

"I... This is also probably... Something you can't tell me, but... Did I- did I mess up this timeline? By coming back here, to- to 2013, by some miracle?"

She doesn't answer immediately. There was no contemplative expression on her face, rather as she was looking at you it was more like she was trying to figure out what you were thinking rather than vice versa. 

"... You already know the answer to that. Even the slightest discrepancy can derail this timeline's future from, let's say, your timeline's initial course."

"I guess... Yeah, you're right..."

You thought back to the first noticeable inconsistency- the ambush at the HYDRA base. You knew you felt off about it, and your gut took a plunge when you remembered days later- you weren't supposed to be the one to get the file.

It was supposed to be Steve.

There were many more afterward. The apology following that. Your lab being built- you wanted to slap yourself- what the hell were you thinking?! It wasn't supposed to be built until a year later- but here you are, a fully fleshed out lab- that looks nothing like your lab in 2014!

There were many more afterward, but they were so minor you weren't sure if they were meant to happen or not.

Not to mention your new suit- you were trying to bullshit yourself with excuses, that it wouldn't matter if you built it or not, so long as you don't use it.

"... Do you think I should... I don't know... Try and keep the timeline according to mine? Like, let the preventable fights and deaths happen? Or should I just... Try and steer it into a future where we... We have a chance?"

That was the beauty of time travel that many works of fiction played with. With the knowledge of what happens in the future, it was easy to alter it as you see fit. And with that type of knowledge, it held a lot of responsibility to hold back the want to just... Do something different.

Of course, it wouldn't alter your timeline, a timeline that already went through its course- the same course you were going through months ago. Like Bruce- or Professor Hulk?- tried to explain before the time-hopping you all did: if you altered the past, you won't change the current timeline, rather you'd just be creating an alternate timeline, is all.

(It was a shame that meant that you couldn't really go with Rhodey's initial plan to just... locate baby Thanos and... Y'know.)

She shakes her head, almost in silent resignation.

"... I, ultimately, cannot stop you. It is your decision to make, and yours alone."

"I'm just... Scared. What if..." You felt the ground beneath you shift, despite sitting still. Nausea crept into your skin, and you felt like you were being burnt suddenly. You held back from spitting out the bile taste settling in your mouth and opted to grind your teeth together till it went away.

You gripped your head tenderly and sighed, "What if I fucked up that one chance Strange was talking about...?"

"Strange?"

"What?"

She sets her cup, now empty as opposed to your still full cup, and straightens her back. Her eyes held a firmness that made you pull your head away from your hands to look straight at her.

"You mentioned Strange."

"... You know him?"

It was a stupid question to ask, but she didn't seem to mind. You fingers itched to scratch your arm, but you ignored it as she spoke up again.

"Yes. He is destined to become the strongest amongst us, as you should know by now. What did you say about him?"

Blinking, you tried to recall what he had said back when you were on Titan with him. It's been years since then, but you could still remember with slight clarity what he had said to your father that day.

"Oh, I think- he said that- before he- he died- he said something about there being a- a one in like, 14 million possibilities that we win against- well, our bad guy. He said something like, 'it was the only way'. Right before, well... He- uh, died."

It felt weird talking about a dead man- technically, a man who was still alive in this timeline. She pressed her lips in a thin line. She stares at you hard enough to make you want to crawl right out of it, but you knew she'd probably yank you right back.

You could tell she's trying to pick her words carefully, and that was instant red flags to you. What did she know that you didn't? What did she realize that you didn't?

What did she know that'd make her think over her words?

"... Stark..." Your skin prickled, her voice was soft just like earlier. Did she think you were sensitive? "Have you ever considered the possibility that maybe it was destined... For you to be here?"

"What- what do you mean...?"

You gripped hard on the chair's armrest. DAHLIA whispers something into your ears about rising heart rate, but your mind couldn't really process it over the Ancient One's words.

"I mean... Maybe it was fated for you to be here, years before yours, for them to see that one chance of success."

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Ol’ Fashion Fingers

Ask: ahhh okay so the kinda gross idea! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is on her period and arthur takes care of her, and i mean...we both know he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and also...a bit of blood won’t gross him out right? so maybe...he takes care of her and later...works his magic fingers to makes her feel better? i know it’s probably very gross but my cramps are so extremely bad this month i’m dying i just need some arthur i LOVE your writing btw!

Warning: Fingering, period blood

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: I am so sorry I took so long on this. Whoever sent in the ask, hope you enjoy! (Lmfao at the ‘say no more’ part at the end) Also, they didn’t have tampons or pads back then I don’t think so I used rags, since that’s what I remember women had to use before our ‘luxury’ items. 

“Kill me, put a bullet in my skull, please, it would be a mercy.” Your cramps this month were killing you. They hadn’t been this bad in years, not since you first started having them when you were very young.

“That bad?” Arthur asked as he chewed on a some of the candy Hosea had bought for you.

“You have no idea.” You sighed, watching him clean his gun. The two of you were sitting in a room at one of the Taverns in Valentine, you had rented out a room and bought special service to help ease the pain. Every thirty minutes a maid would bring you a fresh cold rag, a hot blanket, and some water. Karen had done it the last time she got her period and said it was one of the best things she’d ever spent money on. 

Arthur set his gun down on the dresser and made his way over to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside your feet. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You hummed and looked up, pretending to be deep in thought. “I don’t know… kiss me?” 

Arthur broke into a smile and leaned across you, giving you a quick kiss. “How was that?”

“I still hurt. Kiss me again.”

He kissed you again, longer this time and with more movement. When he pulled back he raised a brow, questioning silently.

“I think it’s working, but I can’t tell. Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.” You forced yourself into a sitting position, now face to face with the man. 

Arthur let out a sigh, not one of annoyance but rather amusement, and brought you in for another kiss. This time you caught him off guard and slipped your tongue in his mouth, bringing up a hand to run your fingers through his hair. His hat fell onto the ground but neither of you noticed. 

The kiss didn’t end as quickly as the others did. Even when he pulled the sheets off of your body your lips remained connected. Even when his hands slid up your legs and gave your thighs a squeeze. You only broke the kiss so you could take your pants off. They were your go-to that time of the month pair, they had holes in the knees and were black so if you had any sort of accident no one would be able to tell. 

You had changed your rag not too long ago so it wasn’t that bloody, thankfully. Even though Arthur had mentioned many times before that he had seen blood almost every day of his life, it wasn’t anything new or gross to him. Still, sometimes you felt a bit embarrassed. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” You reminded Arthur as he planted kisses along your neck while his hands squeezed your bare hips.

“Quit that. Lay down and relax, alright?” 

You nodded and laid back down flat on your back after you removed your button up shirt. Arthur hadn’t bothered removing any of his clothing since what he planned on doing didn’t involve him at all. Maybe afterward if what he had in mind didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t imagine anything bigger than a finger inside you would do anything other than cause more unnecessary pain.

He started with massaging your clit, working you up enough so you were shaking. Your little whimpers and moans were almost too much for him but he kept himself together and focused on you and you only. 

After a while of doing that he lightly trailed his fingers down your folds, teasing your entrance with feather-like touches. He kept his eyes on your face and searched for the slightest sign of discomfort, but he only found pleasure. You had your mouth slightly open, letting out quick puffs of air, and your eyes closed. 

“Don’t hesitate to stop me, you hear?” As if. After all the time you’d known Arthur, he still surprised you every day by how sweet he could be. You’d never find another man living as considerate, honest, and utterly selfless as Arthur Morgan.

“M’kay.” 

He looked at you for a few more seconds before he was satisfied that you were totally okay with everything. He then pushed one finger inside you, slow and only partial. Almost immediately he looked up to make sure you didn’t look like you were in any pain. You seemed fine, eyes still closed with your bottom lip between your teeth from anticipation.

You wished he would get on with it, you weren’t made of glass. But you knew he was just being careful, and plus, it wasn’t like you didn’t like when he teased you a little. In your experience, an orgasm always felt better after you had to work for it. 

When he was finally knuckle deep he tested out a gentle curl, knocking a moan out of you. “You alright girl?” He asked, his voice raw and husky, and stilled his movements. 

“Keep going.” 

He obliged and continued curling his fingers, making you forget about the pain going on inside you. You’d never actually fingered yourself whilst on your period, it would be too hard to hide the blood on your fingers if anyone walked in on you. You had settled for outside stimulation which usually eased your pain for a while, but this was a whole different feeling. It was as if you weren’t even on your period at all. No cramps, your spine didn’t ache and your legs weren’t sore to the touch. You didn’t even have a headache anymore.

It didn’t take you long to come. The feeling of his long thick fingers inside you coupled with the erotic image of him sitting fully clothes between your spread legs was too much to handle. Even if you wanted to prolong the whole thing you couldn’t, your orgasm came too sudden and fast for you to do anything about it. All you could do was let out a couple of swear words with his name thrown in a few times and came around his fingers.

Arthur was blown away, as he was every time he had the ‘privilege’, as he called it, to watch you come. “Jesus, woman.” Was all he could say.

You sat up with shaky arms, catching your breath as you ran your fingers through your hair. “That almost works better than morphine.” You joked and grabbed your shirt, slipping your arms through the sleeves but not bothering to button it back up.

“Speakin’a morphine, you should have some soon,” Arthur said as he watched you grab a new rag from the bedside table, wiping the cum and blood from your thighs before you handed it to the man beside you. “Unless the maid rode off with my money.”

“Oh, Arthur. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Don’t ‘oh Arthur’ me.” He said as he wiped his fingers off, throwing the rag on the floor with the other one. “It was either that or cocaine, and you don’t need that right now. Last time you had some of that we couldn’t get you to sit down for ten minutes, you remember that?”

Shaking your head you laughed, getting one more rag to put in the pants you’d just slipped back on. “Yeah, I do.” You had chewed on far too many pieces of cocaine gum with the intention to get some work done around camp, but you ended up finishing all the chores within thirty minutes. So for the rest of the day, you were doing tasks that didn’t need to be done, such as over-hunting and fishing. The camp had to cook triple what they normally did every night so the food wouldn’t spoil. 

“I will admit, once you’re done with this whole bleeding thing it wouldn’t hurt to have you hunting again. You’re ‘bout the only one in camp besides me who can shoot anything without ruinin’ the meat.” 

You smiled at his compliment and laid back down, savoring the time you had left until the pain would kick back in. Hopefully, the morphine would get to you before then. “Thank you, Arthur. I feel much better now. You’re so good at that, I might start paying you to make me feel better instead of these maids.”

Arthur smiled and scooted up so he could lay down beside you. “Yeah, well, seeing you like that is all the payment I could ask for.” He kissed your cheek and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I think I’ve got some more to pay you.” 

Arthur held up his hand. “Don’t say nothin’ else.”

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 54 - 57

I’m going on vacation for a couple of days so we’ll cover some extra chapters to make up for it.

The last leg of the trek the next morning was the longest yet, Manon thought.

At least we’re in Manon’s POV for now. They’re all still traveling through the marshes.

Dorian Havilliard’s tense tan face

Since when the hell was Dorito tan??

The others were swiftly pulling ahead, but Dorian remained still. Even had the audacity to grip [Manon’s] wrist—hard.

^ me when Dorito lays one slimy finger on my baby Manon

Dorito tells Manon he killed his father and Manon isn’t bothered by it, because y’know, she’s a witch and all. They finally stumble upon the temple that holds the Lock.

When Lysandra’s solitary, swift roar cleaved the air, Aelin murmured to Rowan, “What’s the catch? Where is the catch? It’s too easy.” Indeed, there was nothing and no one here.

Oh, there will be a catch or trap waiting, y’all are just fucking stupid and wouldn’t spot a trap if it punched you in the face.

“I keep a tally, you know, Princess. To remind myself to repay you the next time we’re alone for all the truly wonderful things you say.” [Aelin’s] toes curled in her soggy boots. But she patted [Rowan] on the shoulder, looking him over with absolute irreverence, saying as she walked ahead, “I certainly hope you make me beg for it.”

You two are goddamn disgusting and I hate you. Also, why does Rowboat call her princess when he’s constantly referred to her as his queen before? Consistency who?

Alien asks Manon what the name of her sword is.

“Wind-Cleaver.” Aelin clicked her tongue. “Good name.” “Yours?” “Goldryn.” A slash of iron teeth as they were bared in a half smile. “Not as good a name.”

lmfao roast her

Alien is about to tell Rowboat something, presumably important, but chickens out and says she’ll tell him later. That’s pretty much a guarantee that it’ll bite them in the ass. Anyways, they find a chest on the altar that presumably contains the Lock.

Manon leaned over the chest to study the lid but did not open it. Studying, Aelin realized, the countless Wyrdmarks carved into the stone. Nehemia had known how to use the marks. Had been taught them and was fluent enough in them to have wielded their power. Aelin had never asked how or why or when.

*sobs* these books were so much better when Nehemia was around......

Before they can do anything, Lorass sends them a warning signal that the Ilken are approaching.

Rowan’s throat bobbed, and [Aelin] knew he’d been taking in the horizon and surrounding lands not for any chance of winning the battle that was sure to come, but for any shot at getting her out. Even if the rest of them had to buy her time with their own lives.

I know it’s only logical to try and get the royalty out safely but I’m goddamn sick of everyone being so ready to lay down their lives for Alien, when she wouldn’t lift a single finger to help anyone who doesn’t kiss her ass. Alien is such a goddamn Mary Sue please free me from this hell.

Next chapter starts with Lorass and Elide making a run for it.

Lorcan sent out another flickering blast of his power. Not toward the winged army that raced not too far ahead, but farther—toward wherever Whitethorn and his bitch-queen might be in this festering place. If those ilken reached them long before Lorcan could arrive, that Wyrdkey the bitch carried would be as good as lost.

Oh my goddd, thank you for having someone’s motivation be anything besides hailing Alien as the best queen ever. Lorass, you’re at least interesting and you’re actually improving enough that I can stomach your POVs, plus you might kill Alien off and that’s a major bonus. You are hereby promoted back to Lorcan.

We immediately shift back to Alien and her group of jackasses making a run for it.

And Lorcan … somewhere out there. [Aelin]’d think on that later. At least Fenrys and Gavriel had remained, rather than charging off to fulfill Maeve’s kill order.

Of course they stayed to save your dumb ass rather than fulfill their orders. Of fucking course. Alien suggests she uses the Wyrdkey again and Rowboat gets all pissy, which I kinda understand because the last time Alien used the Wyrdkey she killed a bunch of innocent people, destroyed part of an island, and was possessed by a goddess. She really is fucking stupid.

Aedion let out a low, bitter laugh. “You wanted to send a message to our enemies about your power, Aelin.” (...) Aedion jerked his chin toward the army approaching. “It seems Erawan sent his answer.”

IMPOSSIBLE, ALIEN MAKES A BAD DECISION AND ASSDION IS CALLING HER OUT ON IT??? I know Rowboat is gonna shoot him down but holy shit, Assdion is thinking independently for once in his life! Maybe he’ll be promoted back to Aedion.

Aelin hissed, “You blame me for this?” Aedion’s eyes darkened. “We should have stayed in the North.” “I had no choice, I’ll have you remember.” “You did,” Aedion breathed, none of the others, not even Rowan, stepping in. “You’ve had a choice all along, and you opted to flash your magic around.”

FINISH HER

I am fucking living for this Alien roast tbh, I’d read a whole book of the characters taking shots at her dumb vain ass. That's right Alien, you thought you could kill innocent people for no reason other than to show off and get away with it but you were WRONG BITCH!!! WRONG!!!!!!!

Aedion’s lip curled off his teeth. “This isn’t a game. This is war, and you pushed and pushed Erawan to show his hand. You refused to run your schemes by us first, to let us weigh in, when we have fought wars—”

I LOVE THIS SONG!! I know Assdion has done shit in the past but oh my god, I am living for this redemption!!! Has SJM become self aware and is redeeming her characters last minute??? Even Rowboat thinks her plan is fucking stupid!

Only [Rowan’s] anger was directed at [Aelin]—perhaps more livid than she’d seen him since Mistward.

This is the best chapter no competition, I am loving this Alien roast. I know it probably won’t last but I am crying, finally we’re acknowledging that Alien’s plans are selfish and stupid.

But [Rowan’s] pine-green eyes were bright—almost soft—as he said, “Remember who you are. Every step of the way down, and every step of the way back. Remember who you are. And that you’re mine.”

Now we’re ripping off the Lion King? I mean, I know it’s a semi generic quote but given SJM’s past of ripping off other novels, I wouldn’t be surprised.

The Queen of Flame and Shadow, the Heir of Fire, Aelin of the Wildfire, Fireheart …

I feel like at this point, SJM, you should’ve realized you’ve given Alien waaaaay too many titles, none of which she’s done anything to deserve or earn. Can you say, Mary Sue?

Chapter ends with Alien firing out a huge fire tornado out of her ass that is most certainly going to drain up all of her magic. Gg dumbass, you’re gonna be useless for a few days after this. Fingers crossed that this bites her in the ass afterwards.

Lorcan knew they were still too slow, warning signal or not.

Next chapter opens with Elide and Lorcan again. Lorcan has given her Maeve’s ring to protect her, which is honestly really sweet. Maybe I’ll ship them. Maybe.

Elide staggered one step—one step toward Aelin, a small noise coming out of her.

No please SJM I’m begging you, don’t make Elide into a mindless Alien worshiper like Assdion... please SJM I’m begging.......

“What is … ,” Elide breathed, but Lorcan lunged for her, hurling them to the ground, covering her body with his. He threw a shield over them, plummeting hard and fast into his magic, the drop nearly uncontrolled.

Lorcan puts the safety of Elide over his own need for revenge against Alien. I’ve gripped about his character development before, but it’s probably the only real character arc in this entire novel, so I’ll take it.

There’s a switch to Assdion’s POV, but it lasts for like half a page before it returns to Lorcan. SJM really just wants to splooge over how uhmazing Alien is through Assdion. Gag.

Lorcan watched in silence as Rowan slid a hand over her waist, the other cupping the side of her face, and kissed his queen. Embers stirred her unbound hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close. A golden crown of flame flickered to life atop Rowan’s head—the twin to the one Lorcan had seen burning that day at Mistward.

Ewwww at least Lorcan is only saying what he’s seeing and not splooging over the shitty Ratlin ship.

Ash continued to fall, clumping on Elide’s silky night-dark hair. [Lorcan] gently picked out a bit, then put a shield over her to keep it from landing on her again.

P-pure...

Anyways Lorcan and Elide decide to stroll on over to say hello to the group of jackasses. Weird, since Elide just pointed Lorcan isn’t on friendly terms with Alien, but eh, maybe he knows they won’t prioritize attacking him due to the circumstances-

Slowly, Lorcan closed in on his prey, too focused on the fire-breathing bitch to notice that Fenrys and Gavriel had vanished from their positions in the reeds.

Oh my god, I...I actually feel... panic! Like, I actually do care about Elide and Lorcan a little bit now? I don’t want them to be hurt? What the fuck, how did you manage this, SJM?

Well, Chapter 57 picks right back up with Elide’s POV.

Elide had never been more aware of her limp. Of her dirty clothes; of her long, unshaped hair; of her small body and lack of any discernible gifts.

Christ I get it SJM, no one is even worthy of getting to lick Alien’s boots, I get it, stop rubbing it in my face.

[Lorcan] said coolly, “It would seem our bargain with each other is about to end anyway. I’ll be sure to explain the terms, don’t worry. I’d hate for them to think you were slumming it with me.”

Aww, Lorcan is putting her needs above his own......

Gav and Fenrys, understandably, attack Lorcan in furry wolf/lion form. Elide pushes him out of the way and one of them bites her arm.

[Lorcan] growled to the lion and the wolf, his shield a swirling, obsidian wind around them, “You’re dead. You’re both dead—”

I’m a sucker for that “Character A doesn’t know how much Character B cares about them until they’re injured and B loses their mind” trope, so I admit I’m warming up to them a tiny bit more.

Lorcan’s onyx eyes were unreadable as he scanned [Elide’s] face. And then he said quietly, “I wanted to go to Perranth with you.” Lorcan dropped the shield.

Damn.. can’t believe SJM’s writing is improving a tiny bit towards the end... it’s rather late, but not completely unwelcomed.

Gav offers to heal Elide while Fenrys and Lorcan wave their dicks around some more at each other. Can’t believe I’m grateful for Rowboat’s presence for once, but he comes to put a stop to the Alpha Male competition. Alien also shows up so SJM can splooge about her via Elide’s POV.

Aelin strode closer, eyes never leaving Elide’s face. Young—she felt so young compared to the woman who approached.

Ain’t they like, the same age, though?

And Elide sobbed as Manon Blackbeak emerged, smiling faintly.

PURE AND WHOLESOME................I hope we get more Elide/Manon interactions.

Fenrys feels legitimately sorry for injuring Elide, and I’m inclined to believe him. She did push Lorcan out of the way of a bite that was intended for him.

“I’m here,” Elide said as Aelin fixed those unnervingly vivid eyes on her, “because of Kaltain Rompier.”

So apparently Kaltain gave Elide the stone because she owed Alien for... giving her a warm cloak. What the fuck? Alien slutshamed Kaltain, insulted her, didn’t bother to free her from prison, did I mentioned she slutshamed her? And Kaltain wants to repay a debt for Alien doing the bare minimum? Fuck outta here with that nonsense.

“M-majesty,” [Elide] stammered, inclining her head. She should really get up. Really stop lying on the ground like a worm. But the cloth and stone still lay in her hand.

Elide, baby, it’s okay. None of these people are worth the dirt on the bottom of your shoe.

[Lorcan] didn’t let go of Elide’s arm, and she tried not to lean into his warmth. Tried not to make it seem like she hadn’t just met her queen, her friend, her court, and … somehow now found Lorcan to be the safest of them all.

Honestly fam, don’t blame you. These people are batshit insane.

“We like to call it ‘territorial male nonsense,’” Aelin confided. “Or ‘territorial Fae bastard’ works just as nicely.” The Fae Prince coughed pointedly behind her.

Unghhh this shit again. We’re almost done, my dudes, we’re almost done....

Lorcan had been willing to die for Elide. Had been willing to put aside his quest for Maeve in order for Elide to live. And had then acted territorial enough to make Rowan wonder if he seemed so ridiculous around Aelin all the time.

How can I hold all this self awareness??? Like what the fuck was SJM high writing this book but sobered up for these final few chapters???

“Aelin can decide what to tell you.” “Such a good dog.” Rowan gave him a lazy smile but refrained from commenting on the delicate, dark-haired young woman who now held Lorcan’s own leash.

Holy fucking shit, SJM really did want these guys to be werewolves.

[swampgallows]

thank you all so much for the birthday wishes!! 

tonight was the first trisagion/aionia e mneme hymn in memoriam of my papou, along with a final viewing (the casket will be closed for the burial tomorrow). the funeral is tomorrow morning. 

viewing a body is seriously the most uncanny valley experience in the world. before my eyes he kept shifting from sleeping to being a sculpture. it was a thing shaped like my papou, but it wasn’t him. 

that thing, that body. it isn’t us. it’s part of us as long as we have it, but only because we have it. once we leave it, it’s no longer us. it’s just a... thing.

death is incomprehensible. we were talking about it in warcraft hell discord. It’s like... everyone goes there, and so many people have been there, but nobody can tell us what it’s like. and there have been.... so many people. and none of them can tell us what it’s like. none of them can tell us what it is.

anyway.

afterward we had a reservation at a restaurant. my dad told the waiter it was my birthday, though i didnt really want him to, and they sang to me (which i hate lmfao it gives me serious anxiety). they also called me Sir which is hhhhhhhhh always fun. 

my teeth (and head) have been hurting a lot lately. but next wednesday is my huge dental appointment so i’m really excited to get a bunch of work done. i still havent heard from the HMO but once my papou’s funeral is over and done with i’m going to call them again. It’s been about a month and not a word from them OR medi-cal.  plus if i have a bunch of dental work ahead i’m gonna want to go back to work, but i have to go to therapy before i can get a new job. i mean i guess i don’t HAVE to but i dont think id be able to survive very long (especially considering i’d have to start driving myself to work, which is already giving me a lot of trouble). 

in good news, i did get a waterpik when we went to costco last (to pick up my dad’s birthday cake) and holy SHIT it’s amazing. my teeth have never felt so clean. it gets right the fuck in there. it took a little getting used to initially but by my third time using it i already feel a difference. i can’t wait until i can crank that baby up to full blast!

i feel like i’m being saccharine when i say it but i very genuinely am appreciative of all the people i’ve met here and how much you all help me just by being here and checking up on me and being part of this experience. i love you all very much. thank you for making my birthday, and so many other days, wonderful. 

[sweetpxsin]

Ha Sungwoon Fuckboi!

This turned out longer than intended whoops ^^’’’

•Sungwoon’s the type of fuckboi that looks like a cutie but is a fuckboi

•Out of his group of friends he earned the title of the flirty one

•Like he knows his ways around words and can get anything he wants out of a girl just by using his words

•He mostly uses girls to do his homework, buy him food, and have heated makeout session

•He’s in the school debate club and girls just fawn over his arguments because they think he’s so smart and believes everything he says is right

•One day you accidently joined debate club instead of drama club

•You honestly thought it would be terrible but it actually turned out to be really interesting, especially since the topics of arguments were real problems instead of trivial things

•There was only one problem though and it was you had caught the attention of Ha Sungwoon

•Honestly he knew you were part of the drama department but you never caught his interest till now

•After the end of the first debate meeting he had caught up with you before you exited out of the room to go home

•”Hey you did really well for  a girl that’s supposed to be in drama club”

•”Should I take that as a compliment or insult?” You reply back playfully with a slight hint of sarcasm

•Your tone didn’t go unmissed and he couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Take it any way you’d like sweetheart.”

•He winked and took his leave. If you hadn’t known better you would have fallen for him right then and there but he had broken too many of your friends hearts and you weren’t about to fall victim to his little fuckboi streak

•The next day you didn’t see much of him till debate club and well you didn’t mean to stare but you did

•He caught your gaze quickly a  small smirk already replacing his straight face, his tongue grazing his bottom lip before tilting his head forward from it’s previous tilted back position.

•It was practically never so difficult to rip you eyes off of him but you did, ignoring his gesture of of invitation

•During the whole debate you couldn’t think straight and when he tried arguing against your statement your tongue would get tied and you had no idea what to say

•It wasn’t that you were particularly attracted to him you just thought he was just breathtakingly attractive

•You weren’t gonna deny the obvious visuals but you also weren’t going to catch feels for him just because he was handsome and he had away with his words

•After you calmed yourself down you went back to you normal composed self catching Sungwoon by surprise

•It wasn’t average for girls to come back to their senses when he was messing with him, this quickly

•At the end of debate club he  caught up with you once more before you left, not like he was actually looking for a conversation though

•”Nice save back there babygirl, I’ll remember not to go so easy on you next time.’

•You knew he was trying to swoon you with his play  on words so you simply rolled you eyes as he exited the room before you

• I mean you only had to deal with him during debate class, how hard could that be. I mean unless he starts bugging you outside of debate club… too soon?

•Literally the next day he came up to you and casually up his arm around your shoulder catching you by surprise

•Once you realized what happened you shrugged off his arm from your shoulders and he instantly started teasing you

•”Ayee come on princess don’t get mad at me.”

•You're literally convinced Sungwoon doesn’t know your name lmfao

•”Sungwoon do you even know my first name?”

•”Course I do darling think I’d forget such a pretty name? (y/n) was it?”

•”Thanks I’d prefer you to call me by my real name.” you replied back sharply before leaving him hanging.

•You thought he would have already gotten the memo but the boy is persistence  

•He sat next to you in classes you both shared and would hold or play with your hand that you weren’t writing with

•In the halls he calls you baby girl and princess and still attempts to hold your hand and pull you close by your waist

•By the end of the day you were beyond annoyed with Sungwoon

•The Head of the Debate team put you and Sungwoon up against each other to have a free debate

•Shit went downhill from there

•Your annoyance turned into anger with Sungwoon’s cockiness

•And the fact he still managed to look hot mad you even more ma- wait what

•AhEm anyways you both got into pretty heated debate and the class was on the edge of their seats

•The tension was so heavy between you two the whole class was practically just waiting for Sungwoon to pull you into a heated makeout session or for you to kill him either one works

•By the end of it you were sending daggers at Sungwoon as he smirked happy with his deeds

•The next day you made it your job to avoid Sungwoon

•If you saw him in the hallway you were going the other way, even if it meant going the long way to class

•You would arrive later to class than you usually would and grab the empty seat that was far away from him

•Did Sungwoon really care no, why? Because he knew he had you hooked you were just being in denial

•After school you were just kinda wondering around the dance area because one of your friends was in the dance department

•You were looking for her but you got caught off guard when you hear a guitar being played and someone seeing along to the toon (You know when like Sungwoon was singing to Downpour when Jaehwan was playing the guitar in P101)

•Out of curiosity you peeked into the room and literally wanted to die right afterwards

•The person you hated the most had literally the voice of an angle and you had no idea till now

•If you could you would have punched yourself in the face in that straight moment but Sungwoon caught your gaze at the door and instantly stopped singing.

•Out of their own curiosity his friends looked at the door and then looked at Sungwoon before they all shuffled out quietly whispering and giggling amongst themselves

•”Did you miss seeing me cutie?”

•”No you wish I just heard noises and thought my friend was here.”

•”Or was it my singing that pulled you in sweetheart?” He motioned for you to come over and you don’t know what came over you but you started walking in his direction

•”Why were you avoiding me?” He finally asks as you sit down next to him

•You simply shrug and you swear to god you hear him sight and had the look of disappointment flashover his face for a split second

•”Why do you care?”

•”Don’t worry about it too much princess.” He gets up and winks before joining his friends outside of the room

•From that day Sungwoon had started backing off and if you were being honest you missed his cocky remarks and his stupidly handsome face that could change from cutie to hottie in a matter of seconds

•You were headed to the dance department again because your friend once again was there you were looking for her when you heard that super familiar voice

•The room Sungwoon was in was dim with only the lights where he was sitting were on but dimmed

•He wasn’t singing any song in particular more like jumping from song to song as if he was practicing his vocals

•Since you kinda missed him you fully opened the door making your presence know

•His head lifted from his phone and a sly smile grazed his lips once he saw you

•”Miss me?”

•”Shut up.” You replied before sitting next to him one again.

•He watched your movement with curiosity wondering what you were going to do considering you had made it know that you wanted nothing to do with him a week ago

•”What brings a princess like you in here?”

•”It’s (y/n)”

•Silence hung over the both of you and you like kinda low key hated it?

•”You know you sing pretty well for someone that’s in the debate team.”

•Sungwoon chuckled in amusement half because you basically repeated what he said to you when he first saw you in debate club and because he was happy you liked his singing.

•”Should I take that as a compliment or as an insult?”

•”Take it anyway you’d like Sungwoon.”

•The both of you kinda laugh before your gazes meet and you cut your laugh off short

•”Is there any song you really like singing as of recently.”

•”Is this an interview.”

•”Shut up.” You reply playfully

•He laughs before starting to sing one of the songs he’s been really liking as of recently

•After this it wouldn’t be the last time both of you met up after school like this when you didn’t have debate

•Honestly because of the almost daily hang out sessions both of you got closer

•If you were freaking over a test you were going to fail Sungwoon cup your cheeks in his hands and would press his forehead against your to force you to look at him and only him as he told you softly about how everything was going to be alright

•Over time he actually grew super protective over you so if anyone was to try anything you he’d pull you close and glare at them, leaving you dumbfounded but not like you were complaining

•Oh and he deadass skipped like two period to get you your favorite flower because he knew you weren’t having a good day

•You're also called his precious little gem amongst his friends and his ears lowkey get super read when they tease him

•But he still has his fuckboi habits and you tend to mess around with him

•Like once you and him were in a heated “argument” and you pulled him by his school tie

•He was shook, like so shook you could tell just by taking one good look at his face

•But he quickly recovered and placed one hand on your cheek before whispering “If you wanted to kiss me so bad why didn’t you just say so.”

•Yeah Sungwoon ended up getting slapped you were so shook and flustered cause part of you did want him to kiss you

•ANYWAYS you were having another chill day with Sungwoon, with him singing your favorite song by request, with his hands gently combing through your hair, because you had your head rest on his lap

•It was so painfully obvious both of you had fallen for each other but neither wanted to confess

•That was till today

•Sungwoon had just finished singing before he called out your name waiting for you to hum in acknowledgement

•Once you did you expected him to ask you what time it was, or if you wanted to get food or what song you wanted him to sing again

•But noooo honey he surprised the shit out of you with what he had to say

•”I like you (y/n).... I like you alot. I know we both started off on the wrong foot because I was just trying to keep my fuckboi streak but honestly when  you started to ignore me that day it hurt. I didn’t know why it would hurt when you would look at me in the hall and turn the other way.  But when we got closer I couldn’t help but just want you as all mine. I didn’t want other boys looking at you. I just wanted you to smile for me only.”

•You sat up and looked and Sungwoon slightly bewildered, not fully comprehending his confession

•He wouldn’t met your gaze however has he quietly played with the fabric of his shirt

•A smile smirk made it’s way to your lips as you crawled closer

•Out of curiosity he lifted his head and his eyes widened slight as he saw how close you were

•You leaned in first,and Sungwoon quickly responded his hand gently resting on your cheek

•The kiss lasted long and you pulled back when the need for air became unbearable

•Your eyes met Sungwoons and a small smirk appeared on his face

•”Take that as you like me back.”

•”Take it anyways you’d like?”

•With a roll of his eyes he pulled you into another kiss before finally pulling you besides him

•Dating Sungwoon wouldn’t really bring much difference

•He’s still a sweetheart with a fuckboi said but let’s just say he’s a lot more touchy and protective

[vieuxnoyesrp]

Chris, we were positively delighted to receive an app for Jaxon (Admin Awilix may have shed a tear or two), but even more so as we read. You’ve hit the nail on the head when you mention his (deeply) hidden depths, from his complicated relationship with Lydia, to his internal struggle regarding his adoptive parents and his sexuality, you really brought him alive for us. and for one of the supposedly most shallow characters from all of our source shows, we cannot wait to see how you play this out.

Chris, thank you very much for applying. As for Jaxon…

              ⚜ ~ WELCOME TO VIEUX NOYÉS!!! ~ ⚜

Wondering what to do next? Click here and let the good times roll!

⚜ Roleplayer:

⤜ Name/alias: Overlord is my preferred name but the masses insist on calling me Chris, sooooo.

⤜ Pronouns: She/Her

⤜ Age: 20 (and ¾)

⤜ Timezone: EST

⤜ Activity: I want to say about a six but you guys can be the judge of that. I’m really hyped about possibly having a new character though, so I definitely am going to be around as much as I can so I can toss him in as efficiently as possible.

⤜ Best form of contact: Here on Tumblr.

⤜ Any Triggers? N/A

⤜ How did you find Vieux Noyés? Been a member for a few months now!

⤜ What drew you to the RP? The actual loves of my life are here so that was a pretty convincing thing. But as I said before, the bios are gorgeous and I love that so much attention is paid to the plots.

⤜ What is one subplot/element from the Plot page that you are particularly looking forward to seeing in this roleplay? Look i’m a fucking sucker for witches, if you don’t know this yet bless you because you have yet to be on the receiving end of my tangents. I really really want to see the Salem witches integrated into the plot, how things change, how they get along with the Nola Coven, etc. My other loves are the Hunters and i’m so hyped to see what they do with the Lost Relic they have in their midst.

⚜ Desired Character: Jaxon Whittemore.

⤜ Why do you want this character? 

I’ve never given too much thought about Jaxon as his own person. I admired him, loved him a little but he was always just Lydia’s boyfriend and Scott’s rival. But after a conversation regarding him with Rose a few weeks back I ended up watching some clips on Youtube of him and honestly… Look at this snarky, damaged, angry boy? (He sounds like a rich slytherin version of Isaac, lmfao. Or just a blend of Tyler and Isaac, I love it!) I’m not sure how it never crossed my mind to play him before now. He’s a huge dick 101% of the time but there are rare instances that he’s vulnerable and they just blow my mind. I used to think of him as someone who was only complex when it came to his feelings for Lydia, but i’m starting to realize he actually has a shit ton of layers that i’d love to explore. Plus I don’t think that i’ve ever played a teenager before and I feel like there’s something so oddly entrancing about that? Like he’s just this kid in the grand scheme of things with a lot of growing up to do and plenty of room for development.

⤜ What are your future plans for this character? Antagonize the shit out of McCall and maybe Stilinski. Laugh about it. A lot.

⤜ Put yourself in your character’s shoes. Give us a few lines to describe a day in the life of your character… Where do they live? Where and how do they spend their time? 

Come hell or high water Jaxon is getting up every morning at five a.m. He has a daily routine he likes to stick with you see, sleepily staggering into the shower before brushing his teeth and simultaneously checking his messages. On weekdays after getting dressed and eating breakfast he’ll have a little workout if he’s got the time or if he’s still not completely awake he’ll start watching whatever game was on the night before.

He leaves a little early when he heads out to pick Lydia up, she takes forever to get dressed so he knows he’ll have to be there to nag her into getting into his car so he’s not late for practice. Be it Swimming or Lacrosse, morning practice is always a given, then he takes yet another shower and meets up with Lydia to walk her to their first class. (And to each of her other classes as well) Big shocker, there’s also afternoon practice and school work to be done afterwards.

On weekends, after his morning routine he’ll first go for a jog around Audubon Park before heading to the nearest gym to do some laps. Sometimes he’ll take Lydia out for lunch afterwards, sometimes for dinner depending on how long he was at the gym, and usually at least one day of the weekend is devoted to date night…Which usually consisted of watching The Notebook for the millionth time. Basically, his whole schedule is Lydia and sports, with the occasional break being made to hang out with friends or to study.

⤜ Give us three headcanons regarding your character of choice.

He’s a great player and sometimes more than a decent leader, but he thrives in lone sports which is why he enjoys swimming so much. It’s one of the few times he can really relax and think on his own; no girlfriend or coaches or parents trying to tell him what to do. (He mostly practices for swim meets on his own so he doesn’t have to deal with Coach whatshisface annoying him)

Has slight OCD. This boy cannot stand anything being out of place and hates when things don’t go according to plan. His family has a housekeeper but she’s never utilized because he keeps everything about as clean as it can be. He even has to have his hair cut down to a certain length (he measures) and refuses to drink after anyone. Lydia’s the only exception sometimes, and that’s because they’ve swapped spit enough times that he feels his body should be used to her germs by now.

He’d just started middle school and a girl in the grade above him had asked him out and Jaxon was internally and externally freaking out and begging Josh to help him because what if she wanted to do…stuff… and he’d never even kissed anyone before and would have no idea what to do, and so the the older boy leaned down and planted one on him right there. Jaxon broke apart red as a tomato and let out a muttered thanks in response. It wasn’t a bad kiss by any means just very awkward, and Jaxon still hasn’t figured out if it was because Josh’s a guy or because he was a close friend. (Of course i’ll ask Wills if this is an acceptable headcanon and I added an extra just in case!)

Jaxon is not much of a drinker really unless he’s going through serious emotional turmoil. It makes him too slow and groggy and he’s barely able to think rationally; sometimes it just gets him really really really angry for no apparent reason and he always ends up taking it out on those close to him. Instead, he occasionally takes drugs that instead of hindering him, benefithim. Things that make him faster, stronger, better in the water and on the field. Performance enhancement sort of things. But he gets regularly drug tested and though he knows he could make a positive result go away with a little money, the risks aren’t worth it when the drugs only seem to slightly enhance his abilities so he tries not to make a habit of it.

⤜ What are some plots you’d like to explore with your character?

I’m not so sure if it would work out but i’d really like to see Jaxon become more of a team player and to learn to accept that just because his parents adopted him doesn’t mean he’s not wanted - him being adopted proves he was wanted but this boy has some serious abandonment issues now and can’t see that yet.

Also werewolves and Vampires. He’s seen them in action even though he hasn’t realized it, and i’m dying to see him trying to get to the bottom of it. Maybe even him recruiting some help instead of snooping around all on his own?

And obviously i’m pretty hyped about the question marks in Jaxon’s bio where his species should be. I know what he’s supposed to be in the show but I feel like you ladies are going to have an amazing spin on it that I cannot wait to see.

⤜ Para sample:

(Retained for privacy.)

⤜ Would you like to be considered for another character if not accepted as your primary choice? Probably. Not sure who yet but I want you all to be forced to see me on the dash twice as much.

⤜ Have you read the rules?: Yes.

⤜ Anything else? Nope, I think i’m good!

[shima-draws]

I wanna make a bethan fanvid so badly but I can't for the life of me find anywhere to get the episodes aaAA

SAME THO…literally the only place I’ve been able to find it is on Netflix and. Ghh it’s frustrating.

If anyone can lend a hand and tell this wonderful person (and me) where to get some good quality downloads of MBAV lemme know!!

Anonymous said: Omg I love all your mbav headcanons esp trans ethan & pan benny and I actually got ready player one yesterday because I saw you talking about it and I’m so excited to start it as soon as I finish my summer reading

AAAA TY!! I love…pan Benny it fits so well and.

Omg that’s so exciting! I really hope you enjoy it, it’ll definitely be more fun to read than a summer homework assignment lol   

Anonymous said: i kind of ship benny and rory but bethan will always be my number one ship so i wanna ask besides bethan what are your other mbav ships and when did you start drawing and drawing benny and ethan and watching/liking mbav

Ooh boy me too!! Ronny’s a really cute ship but Bethan will always be the top fave for me ^^ They’d be super adorable but like. God honestly I’m too attached to Bethan to see either of them with anyone else really

Hmm…other ships? Let’s see

Ethan/Sarah is cute, I think I like them better platonically tho. Same goes for Benny/SarahI ship Sarah and Erica a lot! Vampire girlfriendsI also really like Rorica :’) You can blame the Blood Drive episode for that but yeah Rory’s just so cute how he follows her around like a puppy, imagine how he’d be if she actually returned his affections ya knowI can’t ship Ethan and Rory that’s too weird lol I can only see them as close pals, nothin moreI don’t think I’ve ever shipped Bennica I just. While I love Erica I just don’t think she’d treat Benny right and they’d always get on each other’s nerves it would just be a bad time overall so yeah;;I do like the idea of an OT3 with Ethan, Benny and Sarah tho it would be really cute!! The boys would treat her so well and each other and she’d always protect them and have their backs it would be super good!

Aaaaand yeah I think that’s it :0

I started watching MBAV waaaaay back in middle school, about when the movie first came out actually :0 I wasn’t really there when the seasons were being released but I did watch them afterward! So yeah since 2011 so that’s like. Five, six years I’ve liked the show? I’ve kinda been there since the beginning so that’s cool.

I actually didn’t start really drawing Benny and Ethan until about a month ago. I mean very rarely I’d draw them in my sketchbook but I hated the way I couldn’t get their appearances right…until now! Now I’ve had more practice and I’ve developed a lot as an artist so it’s easier for me :’)

Anonymous said: hi im a big bethan and mbav fan they’re my otp ship and i love the show so much and miss it and benny is my fav i love him so much hes my crush and i want a season 3 so badly but anyway so i want to ask when did you start shipping bethan and what are your fav moments between them in the movie and show and what are your fav episodes of season 1 and 2 ps i also ship erica and rory they so cute aslo low key ship benny and sarah a little bit lastly please write more mbav fanfiction

Hi!! Me too, wow…

Benny is the big fave and I’ll be honest I had the BIGGEST crush on him back in middle school sjnfdj

I’m still hoping for season 3 too, at this point I don’t think it’s gonna happen but there might be a sliver of a chance for another movie so!! I’ll hold on to that hopeApparently Vanessa knows what happens after the cliffhanger of the season 2 finale but she’s not allowed to say anything about it!! Which is frustrating but it’s kinda cool that she knows what happens to everybody!

Hmmm…I think I started shipping Bethan after I stumbled across some decently-written fanfiction of them :0 At that point I was just getting into shipping in general beyond the “Oh those two are cute together” sort of phase, so yeah! Slowly but surely they wormed their way into my heart and now they’re one of my top OTPs!

GUH-OSH I have a LOT of favorite moments but uhh lemme see*When Ethan helps Benny into the car after he got hit in the movie*The whole entire seeing Sarah as a vampire scene. Mmmm*When Benny leaps in to rescue Ethan from Jesse even though he’s still injured*“You went to the bathroom together?” also “You took a shower at the same time?” “Different showers, Rory! Different!”*When Ethan’s dragging Benny along at the party*When Benny tries to touch Sarah to get a vision and Ethan slaps his hand away lol*The part where they’re cuddling in the cage after the whole love potion fiasco (duh, that’s the most obvious one)*When Benny gently guides Ethan into his closet to help him after he was temporarily deafened by the siren’s attack*Benny freaking out about the whole “geek brain” thing in the Frankenstein hockey player episode*How Ethan got really worried about Benny when he got bit by a zombie*How Benny got really worried about Ethan when he got bit by Jesse*When Benny pretends to be Sarah and Ethan asks him on a date and his dad walks in on them flirting lmfao*Evil Benny. Just. In general (especially when he’s like “I want my own evil best friend”)*First episode of season 2 when they’re talking by their lockers and Benny summons that chick :’) I just really liked that scene it’s so cute*When they’re making noodles together and have pink aprons on*”You can do it, magic man.”*When Benny helps to pull Ethan out of the mirror*That time when Benny was in the shopping cart “Ethan, this pizza is topped with another pizza!” Also right after when they got beat up by children lol*When Ethan was speaking to Benny through his gym shorts //sniggers*And also this is kinda sad but when Benny promised to uphold his bet with Ethan about asking Sarah out and plans to give him $100 in coins (I think it was that much? Idk) I think it’s funny how Benny gave him an entire YEAR to ask her out and he waited until the last day pfffpt

Favorite episode of season 1: Tie between Double Negative and Smells Like TroubleFavorite episode of season 2: Siren Song

Mhmm! I have a couple of oneshots I have lined up, idk when I’ll finish them but hopefully it’ll be sometime soon!