#(( probs going to clear out some (most) of my drafts & asks & see what i can do from there

[haro-hawayu]

CCS: Clear Card Ch. 80

FINAL CHAPTER! I actually read this the day it came out, but didn't get to finish this post and it was sitting in my drafts for a few days TuT. This chapter can be found on CLAMP-net’s YouTube Channel. As always, please check out @meimi-haneoka's post on the latest chapter for EN-JPN translation differences!!

Links for previous chapter reactions can be found here.

Reading Reactions:

And for our final chapter, our wonderful protagonist/heroine, Sakura

Whoaaa, so did Sakura split the books in order to better hide them?

Fujitaka-papa so kind.

I also can't help but made me think of Yuuko's shop...

Eriol and Sakura keeping us readers up to speed on what's happened XD

WHERE IS MOMO???

Awww Flight is still there!!

UM, THE KEYS?? MORE TRC REFERENCES???

Touya is the same as ever haha~always teasing, but always so kind

Lol, love that we can see Kero-chan and Touya being in the same scene even when things are back to "daily life" things

SYAORAN

SYAOSAKU ARE SO CUTE GAHHH

I really love how Yukito's bonding with Nakuru and Spinel~

AKIHO TuT

I'm sad that she's transferring, but at the same time, am happy that she's happy.

WHAAA STOPPED TIME!! STOPPED TIME?!!

I wonder if one of the major factors of Eriol deciding to help them stemmed from Clow & Yuuko stuff... oof, not the TRC/Holic feels again

Yes, KEEP TALKING KAITO! So many overdued words!!

asdfjsldjfj REAL NAME REVELATION!

I'm SO HAPPY THAT THEY'RE TALKING!!! TUT

Annnnd they're still keeping a space for her (i.e. Eriol buying the house so Akiho's stuff remains, Akiho's room remaining as is in the Kinomoto home), even tho she's leaving, she has a place with the people she's leaving behind, a place to return to

Awww it's cute that the boys are talking ahahah--they can actually be friends!! They even exchanged numbers!!

asdfjslajlk AKIHO HAS A REAL NAME TOO

It makes so much sense too!! TuT

THE END (????)

~~

Wow, just wow.

I'm sad that we didn't get to see Momo returning... I'm hoping that the special chapter that's coming out next year will address this... is it too much to ask???

For the most part, I am satisfied with this ending. There are some hinted tie-ins with TRC (the tattoo, the wand), prob a bit more than I expected, so I wonder if TRC will uhhh get a little jumpstart, or if we can see what's been going on over at the other side of things... Clear Card arc's end leaves things very hopeful. Even though the way they talked about how Kaito's time being "stopped" makes me think about Yuuko, there seems to be so much more hope that Akiho & Kaito will be able to find a solution to this, whereas with Yuuko, there seemed to be so much regret and problems as a result.

Speaking of Akiho & Kaito (I'll still call them as such LOL, their true names can be just for the ones they shared with... like how TRC SyaoSaku will always be SyaoSaku to me even after their name revelation), I'm glad they were able to have that talk in the end. With Kaito apologizing for his actions, and knowing WHAT he did wrong. As sad as I feel about the two of them leaving their friends, the fact that they will be together makes me feel very happy. I found it so cute at the end where Akiho shares her true name with Sakura and not Kaito yet bc she's still a bit upset with him XD oh Akiho~

This is so surreal because back then, it felt like such a far-fetched dream for there to be a CCS sequel. I still remember when TRC was FIRST announced ~2003 (wow 20 yrs ago), I thought it was a sequel since it's featuring Syaoran and Sakura. And when it was addressed that it's not the SAME two, I was hoping we will at least find out what happens after end of CCS bc of CLAMPverse (what I called CLAMP's version of multiverse). Seeing an ACTUAL CCS sequel just made me so so happy (although a part of me feared: but at what cost??!!--I think this was slight TRC/Holic trauma speaking). There definitely were some dark moments, especially involving Akiho, but I'm glad it had a good end. The anime adaptation was great as well, so I really look forward to the continuation.

CCS was the first anime series that I watched (USA dub) that got me into anime; in fact, it's still my favorite anime series of all time! But I was a very immature fan back then and it's kinda embarassing to admit LOL. I used to really dislike Meiling back then and wondered why they had to create her at all when I found out she was anime-only character (I saw her as a threat to SyaoSaku relationship). I also did not like the idea of Eriol x Kaho because I liked Eriol x Tomoyo more (ET still has a very special place in my heart... being one of my earliest uhh... fanon ships)... it was also to the point that I kinda disliked Kaho, until I rewatched CCS series in it's entirety. I love both Meiling and Kaho A LOT now btw. But gosh, I was such a silly child then... cuz I literally was XD I guess my point is that I'm glad that as an older fan, I am still able to follow Sakura's journey and the "essence" of the series/characters has not changed even after all this time.

Until next time~

[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

[takoyakitenchou]

our world

“Erina and Souma find out she is pregnant.” so i got this prompt thru ff.net and i had so much fun w it; this is just a oneshot but i’ll prob do another take on it in the multi-chapter fic i have in the works. i need title suggestions lol

Upon meeting Nakiri Erina, Yukihira Souma had had his fair share of speechless moments. More often than not these were due to her cooking or some wild Nakiri-istic statement she’d dropped on him.

But coming in after a quick lunch service to witness his wife crying and laughing and sitting on the hardwood floor of the kitchen amidst what had to be at least two years’ worth of Kleenex with a jar of pickles in front of her was a dimension of its own.

A lot of questions ran through his mind in the span of ten seconds, but he settled for, “Whatcha doing, Erina?”

Erina took one look at him and her lips stretched into a devilish grin that looked suspiciously like Alice’s a split second before she was about to ask Kurokiba to do something stupid for her.

“Souma,” she sang gleefully.

“Are you drunk?” 

Erina lifted an eyebrow and said in her typical deadpan, “No, I’m totally fine, Yukihira. Don’t make baseless assumptions.”

Oh, yes. The tissues suggested otherwise, but she was ok.

“I want you to bring me chocolate.”

“I can make you some; I bought cacao a few days ago. Maybe move over a little bit?”

Erina promptly started bawling, and Souma started drafting his obituary, because there was no way she’d let him live to see another (tequila) sunrise when she started crying like this. In a last ditch effort to save his soul, he kneeled in front of her, moving the damn pickles out of the way, and hugged his crazy wife.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just want chocolate.”

“Uh… I can fly out to Momo-senpai’s place and be back in two hours?”

At this point, Souma was struggling to hold down his panic. This was some weirdass shit if he ever did see it, and it was Nakiri Erina they were talking about. Other than her unmatchable cooking, pretty much all she did was weird shit (not that he’d ever say this aloud, by virtue of the fact that he’d probably get his head kicked to the promised land).

“No, no,” Erina said impatiently, still sitting on the kitchen floor. “I mean from that shack down the block you like so much.”

“You’re talking about the convenience store?”

“Yes, yes. Whatever it’s called. Please?”

Souma grinned nervously. It wasn’t like Erina’s majestic god tongue to desire hoi polloi junk, as she called it. “Sure thing, princess. What kind?”

“M&M’s. Peanut.” Then she furrowed her eyebrows. “Why the fuck do I want those again? They sound disgusting. Well, bring me them anyways.”

Souma blinked once. Twice. Twice again. “Erina, I’m no expert, but are you pregnant?”

Erina blanched. “The hell? Why would I be?”

“I’ll be back,” Souma said, and bolted from the condo.

-

Precisely ten minutes later he burst back into the kitchen, where Erina had continued to calmly eat pickles from the jar. Under normal circumstances, her god tongue would probably have short-circuited by now, and that was what confirmed it for Souma. But she needed to be convinced.

“Hi,” he wheezed, and dumped the contents of his grocery bag onto the floor in front of her. Among a diverse assortment of select chocolates (read as pretty much the entire store) was a small rectangular box.

“Do I need this?” Erina frowned, picking up the test and turning it over in her hands.

“Yes, Erina, you do. I’ll be waiting here.”

“Not a finger on my M&M’s.”

“Wouldn’t dare, princess.”

-

It was only when Souma gently kissed her between her eyebrows did it finally hit Erina that on top of the culinary empire they were already running overtime to manage, they were going to be… dare she say it…?

They stared at the two little lines and what it entailed; it would completely alter the course of their lives.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Erina asked, a little weakly.

Souma nodded. “You feeling ok?”

“I’m still processing the fact that you and I are going to be parents.”

With a chuckle, Souma joked, “You’re already judging me, aren’t you? You’re doing that eyebrow raise thing.”

Erina rolled her eyes. If nothing else, it seemed her husband knew as much, if not more than, about her as she did. “Well, at least you know I’m always judging you.”

“Why else do you think I love you?”

Those three words never failed to bring a blush to Erina’s cheeks, and this time around was no exception. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m your soulmate or whatever.”

“Damn straight, Nakiri.”

“So… how are we going to do this? We need a gameplan, right?”

Souma sighed. “Like I said, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty damn sure you’re not supposed to do that with our child.” Taking her hands in his, he said, “Let’s not force our kid to be a chef. We’ll take her around whenever we’re running our restaurants and have her experience everything but let’s leave her future all up to her, you know?”

As stupid as he was, he was pretty cognizant of the things that mattered most.

Erina leaned into the familiar space between his jaw and collarbone that had long since become her sanctuary in times of despondency — but this was different, because even if there was a seasoning of worry involved, it was all joy. Ecstasy, even, that she’d finally have the chance to provide everything for another that she had been deprived of as a child.

And who better to share this promise with than Yukihira Souma, who had been the one to close the hole left in her heart by her past, to give all his love to her with no restraints at all? (although she probably wouldn’t have minded too much if he cut down on his damn peanut butter and squid attempts, but that was another story)

“You’re right,” she agreed. “We’ll let her decide. And we’ll put her above our work, am I clear? I won’t ever sacrifice my child’s happiness for a client.”

Souma lifted an eyebrow in an imitation of Erina’s trademark expression. “I thought that was a given, princess. She’s going to be our whole world.”

Then he kissed her with puffed-out cheeks in the way that made her fall for him a little harder each time and grinned one of his genuine billion-watt smiles that made his eyes all squinty, and she knew that no matter what happened along the way, they’d be able to figure it out together.

[gwoongi]

dancer in the dark (pt. 1)

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: rockstar/pop-punk au, smut, angst & fluff rating: explicit words: 33k warnings: slowburn, explicit sexual themes, alcohol use, recreational rockstar drug use, smoking, adult language, dark themes including negative side-effects of drug use and drinking including intoxication & irrational behaviour, dry humping, mental health struggle, koo has an australian accent, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, if things feel good in this fic then wait 4 part two to ruin everything a/n: ok.....hear me out......guk as a lead singer of an alternative-punk-rock band....and he looks like this......and this….. AND THIS………and his band r basically chase atlantic......Ok ur welcome & pls give this fic a chance!!!!!!!!!! i luv it a lot and its probs my fav so far ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ def a long one so get ur tea and blankets and buckle up! notes: have it. this has been in my drafts since like july. just take it and smile.

dedicated to @httpjeon, who force fed me pictures of rocker jeongguk and repeatedly kept me sane + motivated. thank u sm 

Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him.

BIRTH OF DEVILS. (LONDON)

“That was August Blue in the Live Lounge, covering Thanks For The Memories by Fall Out Boy. These guys have some right talent, don’t they? Yeah...well, you can keep up to date with them by watching their interview with us on IPlayer right now, and they’re also going to be on tour in London and various other American venues within the next few months. I’m proper excited for that...”

No matter how many interview schedules and radio plays, Jeongguk doesn’t feel as though he is ever going to get used to this feeling. 

For now, it is an endless series of chaos, radio stations and newspapers wanting to talk to the newest music craze- because that’s what August Blue were, whether Jeongguk liked that or not. 

August Blue were a band who nobody thought could make it. From early fans of the band, when they were barely filling up Korean venues and getting more than a thousand views on original songs, to big-name celebrities like Axel Choi who had waltzed into Jeongguk’s part-time job when he was seventeen. The man, one of Jeongguk’s idols, had looked him in the eye, considered his band and his dream and said he didn’t have the talent to do anything good with his band, and told him, if you want to be big, you have to be American.

It wasn’t quite the same, or what Axel had intended for it to mean, but four years later Jeongguk now sits number one on the Billboard Charts with his ‘band with no potential’, making a name for themselves, bringing pride to their culture, love with their music, and money to Korea’s economy. The amount of fans that August Blue had collected over the four years of Jeongguk’s band being formally considered a band were unimaginable, many flocking to landmarks to photograph lampposts he stood next to on Instagram, others going to his home-country to enjoy the country that had birthed icons. 

If only Jeongguk had the same love and pride for his country; they had turned their backs on them simply because of their popularity overseas. 

Well, fuck them- Jeongguk and his band are going somewhere no other Korean band or artist can even touch, and while we’re on the subject- Axel Choi can eat a dick! Jeongguk’s not doing so bad for a Busan boy working at 7-Eleven, and while Jeongguk’s drinking champagne like a King on the top of the charts, it’s hard to see everybody else at the bottom.

August Blue leave the BBC Broadcasting House, on their way to the hotel for their last two nights in London before heading back to America. It doesn’t quite feel real yet, for Jeongguk to say that his band have sold out two nights at the O2 Academy Brixton. Admittedly, it’s not as big as their shows in America, which similarly happens to be where most of their fans are located, but for a first time in the UK, it’s a dream to see it sold out with his band's name and faces on billboards nearby.

Beside him in the black van, August Blue’s bassist Hoseok sighs deeply and fastens his seatbelt, his hands immediately rummaging into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. Nevertheless, a smile does dance on his lips; a few fans had gathered outside the building to see them off, as well as welcome them when they arrived for their Live Lounge recording and interview. It still feels surreal for Jeongguk to see his face on shirts, and to hear people call his name. As the car begins to pull out of the car park, Jeongguk squints through the darkened glass at the fans, a bright smile on his face as they cheer, right until the car is out of the building vicinity.

“Should arrive at the hotel in thirty.” From the passenger seat, August Blue’s manager twists to face the band in the back seats. Jeongguk barely lifts his face to see him, his eyes glancing over and then moving back out the window, watching London pass by in a blur. “Try and get some shut-eye. Good job today, guys.”

“Thanks, coach,” Seokjin replies. It’s always Seokjin who does the talking, taking the role of Big Bro whenever August Blue’s lead vocal and, let’s face it, the reason why they have fans, Jeongguk, isn’t feeling particularly chatty, which is more often than not. “Let’s keep working hard, yeah?”

The question is directed out to everybody in the van, and Jeongguk finally looks over. He nods, gently and smiles as if it hurts him to be genuine, and then his attention is back out the window, his mind back with the fans who had screamed for him, his heart filled with the warmth of the memory.

It’s good to be loved, to be accepted. It’s good to be successful when people doubted you could do it.

THE DEVILS ARE DANCING. (VENICE)

“It sounds really good, Jeongguk. Want me to run it one more time?”

Jeongguk shrugs the weight of his jacket off his shoulders, twisting the cable attaching to his headphones so they unravel around his body and raises his thumb through the glass to the rest of the studio. On cue, the familiar sound of the opening melody to August Blue’s updated track, Hold Your Breath, floods through the speakers, slightly tinny but nonetheless clear for all to hear. While Sejin, August Blue’s manager, aids the producer by pointing out minor audio flaws, Jeongguk joins the rest of his band in the studio to gather around. The last to join the group is Seokjin, the drummer who rubs at his wrists pathetically, his duet of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.

Sejin’s right- it does sound good.

The strums from Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon’s instruments sounds incredible, and it’s probably their strongest non-punk track of the year. Retrospectively, it sounds nostalgic, reminding Jeongguk of those summer evenings in Busan after a tiring day of school and garage-band practise with the guys. When the chorus moulds together, Jeongguk’s lips lift to a satisfied and exuberant smile, the harmonies from everybody’s vocals blending together before the chorus comes to a finale, and Namjoon’s deeper vocals come for the second round of verses.

As he listens, Jeongguk recalls the moment he sat down and wrote this song, back when he was eighteen and feeling like the world was against him. In that respect, this song means a lot to him and the band, reminiscent of a time where it felt impossible to get out of the garage and into venues. Then, when Friends brought them out of small Korean venues into charts abroad and giving them radio play, Jeongguk had stored Hold Your Breath on a memory stick and his worn out lyric book, until the right moment came for him to present it to a studio. It just so happened that ADORA, a respected and famous Korean producer based in the US-of-A, had loved the track, bringing it back to square one where Jeongguk stands still, unaware that the single has finished playing.

“It’s one of our best,” Namjoon admits bashfully, his hand brushing the back of his neck, a habit. He extends his gaze out to the rest of the band, “am I right?”

“Better than Friends?” Seokjin asks, surprised. He tilts his head as if he disagrees. “Nothing can beat Friends.” After that statement, something about another song comes up in conversation but it dies out over the sound of Hold Your Breath being rolled back and played again.

On the other side of Jeongguk, Hoseok hums and claps the younger on the shoulder, the sound of Jeongguk’s hiss ignored and silenced by the excited discussion over the track by the producers, lunch menus between Seokjin and Namjoon. With a slight wince, Jeongguk looks over at the bassist.

“It’s all thanks to you!” Hoseok says, a tight but honest smile on his face. “Without you, there’d be no songs. I’m telling you, we knew you were special!”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jeongguk replies quietly. “Let’s hope people like it and it sells.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Hoseok muses, frowning. “Just because it has a story doesn’t mean it won’t sell. Honestly, Guk, this one’s great. It’s gonna be amazing.”

Like always, Jeongguk finds that difficult to believe, despite records and albums selling luxuriously every time. It’s mandatory to doubt, especially when you’ve got a lot to lose; August Blue are just another band, another group of guys trying to make a name for themselves across the pond. Right now, they’re not huge, not as big as Jeongguk wants them to be- they can sell out a couple arenas, top charts and headline shows, but they’ve still got a long way to go, still got the prejudice of being foreign. If anything, that only motivates them more. Nothing feels better than proving the white man wrong.

“When it’s finished, we’ll have a promising B-side for the album,” starts Adora, the producer looking over her shoulder with satisfaction at the five guys. “I’d like to run through Dancer in the Dark, though? Adjust the drums, maybe add more to the sax?”

Jeongguk nods, taking a quick sip of water from a bottle on top of the small cabinet pushed to the wall of the studio. “Might work better as the A, actually. Guys, what’dya think?”

“Yeah, sure,” Namjoon replies. “It’s a good song- will probably look better with a music video too. Want us back in the booth for it?”

Adora shakes her head, rolling the song back up. “Nah. Just gonna listen for now. Good job, guys.”

With that, and the familiar opening melody of Dancer in the Dark filtering through the speakers, Sejin claps his hands and gives a thumb to the rest of the band, sending them off for an hour or two until they’re needed again. In ADORABLE TRAP Records, singers were more often than not props, voices for her to play with. Jeongguk provides a demo, a rough idea of what the song should sound like and Adora works her magic, changing tones and amplifying the bass, creating something magical and sensational for when August Blue regroup in the studio at a later time. The band trust Adora and her team, considering she’s half the reason why they’re big worldwide in the first place.

THREE AM is August Blue’s anticipated first full length album, after many months of EP’s and mini albums, alongside the handful of covers accumulated over the years. ATR expects it to be completed by the end of the week, with only minor final touches needed on a select few of the tracks, eleven seamless and sensually exciting songs ready to release to the budding and hungry public. Like always, the pressure of perfection hangs over the studio, intoxicating and infuriating, and as soon as he can escape the room, Jeongguk inhales the clean and purified air of the outer studio, where a leather sofa sits beside a flickering vending machine that’s surely seen better days.

Hoseok groans, massaging the cramp out of his shoulder with his leather jacket still in his hand, spinning wildly with the arms extended out, hugging the air. “God, I’m so fucking hungry. Shall we go out?”

“Mm,” Namjoon agrees, “sounds good. Guk, Jin, you in for some food?”

Somewhere behind Jeongguk, Seokjin sighs loudly- a noise that has the nerve to sound like a whine, childish and ungrateful. “I need to find new drumsticks. Look at the state of these things.” Over his shoulder, Jeongguk spies the blunt ends of Seokjin’s sticks, the smooth and rounded ends frayed and close to splintering.

“How did that even happen?” Hoseok asks incredulously, while Seokjin’s distinct laughter rises in volume.

“Don’t ask,” Seokjin shakes his head in reply. “Anyway, won’t take long. Isn’t that one store nearby? The one owned by the Daegu guy?”

Namjoon confirms this. Not too far away from ATR, located in a renovated storage house in Venice, there is a comfortably successful and trustworthy store that August Blue aren’t strangers to; DBOY is one of the best, expensive and well respected amongst musicians who frequent LA. Jeongguk recognises the name, as if on command picturing the small guy who runs it in his head. 

Of course, it’s not owned by him- DBOY is known for being established and owned by Min Dowoon, a retired music producer whose name is legendary amongst artists and most certainly intimidating to the likes of Busan boys like Jeongguk. Regardless, it is his son, Yoongi, who pretty much runs the place. From what Jeongguk can vaguely remember from the last time he met with Yoongi, he recalled the aforementioned to have a fine and grand collection of ostentatious instruments and equipment. As for the seller himself- well, Yoongi can be a little bit of a nouveau-riche, perhaps even unapproachable, but it’s not as if people go to DBOY looking for a conversation.

Jeongguk might be the lead vocalist of the band, but he most certainly does not regard himself the leader. Due to this fact, he stares back at the other members of the band, waiting for a decision to be made for him. While on stage, Jeongguk enjoys playing pretend and acting as if the world was his for the taking, his for his pleasure, off-stage he enjoyed living quietly and comfortably, some might say obediently, shying under the authority of his elder band-members.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Namjoon replies almost immediately. “It’s on the way to that Korean place we went to last time we came here.”

Taehyung sounds zealous at the mentioning of the Korean restaurant, which pretty much means everybody’s mind has been made up. When Seokjin catches up with Jeongguk and wraps his longer arms around him playfully, Jeongguk finally lets himself loosen the tension carved into his skin from the studio, being pulled and pulling Seokjin out of the studio and into the sunny street.

The drive to DBOY is neither long or difficult, considering the traffic has decided to fall on their side of luck today. Hoseok, who enjoys being the designated driver for the band whenever he can help it, turns right and pulls the car into the staff-only car park, uncaring for the signs that turn him away and parks awkwardly near the shrubs behind the store. 

Without being affected in the face of Seokjin’s disbelieving protests against Hoseok’s parking preferences, Jeongguk undoes his seatbelt in a grouchy silence and hops out, feeling the underneath of his knees aching due to the tightness of his jeans. The front face of his knees are torn, the tan skin poking out and slightly red from where, out of unhealthy habit, he scratches his skin, the only source of colour aside from his skin being the mustard of his shoes, comfy and worn out of love.

He always forgets just how warm America is- not that it’s not welcomed, of course. Only, now he half wishes he hadn’t worn an all-black ensemble, the sun hot on his neck and underarms. The rest of August Blue take their gentle time getting out of the hired vehicle, a cacophony on the right side where Seokjin and Hoseok have stepped out, arguing over the angle of the tyres as if it genuinely makes any difference considering the car is out of sight from the public, meaning it’s bothering nobody at all besides Seokjin, who appears to be the only person complaining. 

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, over it, and brushes his untamed parting out of his eyes carefully, avoiding catching the curled strands on the bar of his eyebrow piercing.

DBOY, like always, is quiet and glorious, rising high against the bungalow-sized stores surrounding the lot. Its architecture is refined, boxy and brown and all-in-all American, a copy of every brown bricked building you’d see in the movies. And yet, it still stands out, with bright yellow accents like the colour of Jeongguk’s shoes, similarly promoted within the interior if Jeongguk remembers correctly. 

The first time Jeongguk had come here it had been with acquiesce, mostly just to shut Seokjin up after he read a few five star reviews online. That was around about the time Taehyung had joined the band, with little rockstar aura and a gift for the keyboard and saxophone, which incredibly added an accent to August Blue’s music that helped them chart worldwide, a Korean The 1975 as a headline which didn’t seem all that bad, given the leader of the latter seemed down to Earth about it. 

Jeongguk now cannot deny that DBOY offers something to a piece of music that quite literally no other can, hence why he sets off first towards the oversized yellow door and pushes it open with all its weight. Like Yoongi and his brusque facade, Jeongguk’s not shocked to find the door is a heavy metal, requiring attention to push it open, but yet it always catches him off guard, as if he’s expecting it to get easier each time.

Once inside, the all too familiar sound of I Want To Break Free greets his ears, the sound echoey and tinny, like you’d expect for a building with a high ceiling decorated with pipes drenched in the signature yellow. It is bright, and chilly as he enters due to the air-conditioning, yet the warmth engulfing him as all of the band enter and the door closes. On a good day, DBOY is virtually empty; majority of their orders are online and dealt with by another customs manager that is not the staff on duty, which coincidentally is how Yoongi likes it, considering he’s a bit of a black sheep, not exactly enthusiastic about talking when he can help it.

While Hoseok and Taehyung make a b-line towards the vinyls and collection of photographs that Yoongi displays in order to show off how many celebrities he’s had the delight of selling to, Jeongguk follows behind Seokjin and Namjoon as they head towards the desk, pushed towards the back of the store behind endless stacks of records, the left side of the store displaying a rare and gorgeous collection of instruments that Jeongguk ogles at as he passes. 

Yoongi is a personal collector of vintages, including exact pieces and similarly replicas, the newer models closer to the desk where the cameras can keep an extra eye on their condition. Jeongguk has half an idea to make a directional change and head right, but the opening to the operative desk appears before him, or over the shoulder of Namjoon as he walks behind him.

DBOY feels abnormally silent today, not even the distinct humming of Yoongi detectable in the stacks. Namjoon purses his lips, looking around half-heartedly before moving towards the desk, raising his hand to drum his fingers upon the varnished dark wood. The dull sound of his fingertips brings Jeongguk’s head away from the instruments, and similarly, a head from a book.

At first, Jeongguk’s only half-looking. In blunt honesty, he’s not too interested in whoever is behind the desk, a sigh leaving between his lips as he buries his hands into the pockets of his jeans with great difficulty due to the tightness, something which attracts the eyes of the little dove behind the desk, her eyes darting to the refined bulge of his biceps and veins crawling on his forearms.

“Oh,” comes a gentle voice that, with reluctance, pulls Jeongguk’s eyes back over. “Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in! I didn’t even hear the bell…”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pull upwards. “You have a bell?”

“Yeah...I think?” Questionable. “Well, I thought we did...I bet Yoongi took it out again. Fucker, he doesn’t tell me anything.”

Seokjin leans backwards on one foot, taking a peek back towards the doors where, hoorah, there is a bell on the wall above the entrance. “Oh, look at that. Guess you do have a bell.”

“Well,” finishes the voice, and Jeongguk takes the chance to look at the little display on top of the desk, a complementary addition that spells out the cashiers name in a disgustingly ordinary font. Y/N is what it reads today, which Jeongguk makes a note of and looks away from at the same time. “That bell is definitely broken. Huh. Anyway, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Yoongi here?” Namjoon asks, his weight now entirely reliant on the weight of the desk. By this point, Jeongguk has led himself over to the instruments, the only sight of him being his back marked and outlined by the clinginess of his tee.

You nod once, smiling and slamming the book from your lap on the top of the desk. Never did Namjoon expect for the title to read The Encyclopedia of Sharks, and as you spin in your chair to heckle in the back office, Namjoon glances at Seokjin over his shoulder with an amused smile, his eyes gesturing back to the book earning Seokjin a snigger.

“...and you didn’t tell me the bell was broken at the door.”

Your voice enters the store once more from the back office, accompanied by the smaller frame of Yoongi as he discards a tinfoil ball into the trash underneath the desk.

“Sorry. Y/N, the bell at the door is broken,” Yoongi deadpans, and you sneer in reply, tugging away from his childish and playful smile to be seated. When he’s decided he’s finished fondly looking at you, Yoongi addresses the band in the room, a secondary smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, tour,” Namjoon offers as an explanation.

“Don’t sweat it,” Yoongi shrugs in reply. “You recording?”

“As we speak,” Seokjin pipes in. “And, look- went to some stores in Vancouver for sticks last year and got given this!” His tone is elevated with genuine aghast, holding up his drumsticks and Yoongi pulls a face.

“That’s what you get for going somewhere other than here,” Yoongi frowns. “Come with me. The newest collection actually just came in. You all in here? Keep sticky fingers away from my signed records.”

The remainder of their conversation is muted for you, as you watch the group of guys shuffle away from the desk and towards the display of instruments. Whereas Yoongi holds an extensive knowledge on music and instruments, you can happily and readily admit that it is not within your comfort zone.

Truth be told, the only reason you work at DBOY is for money, and because Yoongi happens to be a relative willing to pay you more than you deserve. Family history is the reasoning for Yoongi’s undying devotion to music, alongside a half-completed degree in sound engineering that he tells people he’s got, because the two years he braved University sure as hell didn’t happen for no reason. 

As for you, you prefer the less audible arts, the ones starting and stopping with paintbrushes and splashes of colour. If someone were to ask, your job at DBOY offers a daily observation of the various album covers dotted around the store, ready to be fingered and thumbed when you’re changing the display shelves, or cleaning the trays.

In simpler terms, Yoongi is the expert. You’re just the person who sits behind the desk and pretends to be a professional.

“Newer Hickory over here,” says Yoongi, as he leads the three ducklings through the store towards the lined stacks of drumsticks. In awe, like a child in a candy store, Seokjin surges forward and gapes at the selection, his eyes glued to a signature collection, signed and overwhelmingly expensive. “Oh, yeah. Queen. Signed by Roger Taylor himself, wanna feel ‘em?”

Seokjin does want; his eyes light up like tiny lamps and they widen in size, followed by the rise and fall of his feet as he hops with literal overflowing excitement. Namjoon laughs at the sight of it, the sound eventually calling Hoseok and Sticky-Fingers-Taehyung away from the pride of Yoongi’s photo collection and towards the rest of the band. Something deep within Jeongguk claws, a smile on his face as he watches Seokjin get visibly excited over the drumsticks formerly belonging to Roger Taylor. Even Jeongguk himself, despite the sudden appearance of his angst, oohs and aahs at the stick set, being directed by Yoongi to the line of new guitars and boxes on show.

“New face?”

By the time Hoseok has settled with the group, Yoongi looks up from the set of Les Paul that Namjoon is admiring for its matte polish and notices Hoseok’s gaze pointed in your direction. Yoongi follows, his chin lifting with satisfactory pride when he sees you’re reading, as always, unfocused on the group and submerged in your own world.

When you wanted, you could be excited about celebrities when they came into DBOY, but there was honestly the high chance that you didn’t even know August Blue. Considering Yoongi knew them through connections and through a year exchange programme in Australia where he had met Jeongguk and gave him advice for the band, he of course felt familiar, close enough to actually consider the members to be friends.

“Sorta,” he admits in reply. “She’s been here a while now. Y/N.”

“She’s pretty,” Namjoon comments, which, to no surprise, irritates Yoongi. He glares in the direction of the guitarist and scowls, his face pulled up with disgust.

That’s when Jeongguk looks over, drinking in the sight of you for the first time ever. Usually, Jeongguk takes great pride in the fact that he fears attachment, therefore closing himself off emotionally to everybody outside of August Blue. Due to this fact, he almost never finds himself interested in anybody, his limitations at sex which, even then, he doesn’t engage in often. 

He spies on you from where he is standing, next to the electric guitar displays, watching carefully at the way you carry yourself, what you choose to show people. What you are doing now is boondoggle, skimming through pages you’ve read before to present the image of you being busy. By luck, you had dressed more nicer than usual for this date- your hair pulled half up and half down, the lilac scrunchy keeping the curls together and a black and white striped dress wrapping around your body to where Jeongguk predicts could be your knee.

Without being modest, there’s really nothing world-stopping about you. Jeongguk knows this as he stares at you; he’s had better, and definitely had worse. God forbid it, but you have the audacity to look normal, mistakenly placed in the store, sticking out like a thumb that is sore.

“She doesn’t look like she should be working here,” Jeongguk throws in, offers almost, and Yoongi regards him with the raise of his brows, an amused smile on his face.

A deep groan rises out of Namjoon’s chest. “Here we go. He always does this- every time there’s a pretty girl, he gets like this.”

“Gets like what?” Jeongguk asks, scoffing.

“Jerky,” Hoseok agrees, laughing and pointing a finger at Jeongguk accusingly. When he silences with small gasps of amusement, he smiles and says, “did you know it’s a turn off for girls?”

“Then tell me why I have more game than you?” Jeongguk quips.

Hoseok just laughs, and both of them know it’s false, considering Hoseok and his unofficial girlfriend have been hooking up for the last five months, whereas Jeongguk has remained single and sexless; which he doesn’t care about, especially when there’s a million other things he could be doing and worrying over. Comfort previously found in pillowcases and sexual endauvers can now be found in white powders and green liquids, either- either warm enough to keep him happy, at least until Seokjin tells him he should stop and put it to rest.

Yoongi quietly twists the key in the display lock after confirming that Seokjin wants the sticks in his hand. “She’s good. She does her job, and in return, I let her do what she wants when nobody’s in the store. Give it a break, yeah?”

Jeongguk scoffs with surrender, raising his shoulders as he lets it drop at Yoongi’s request. Meanwhile Yoongi answers questions about the instruments for sale, lined up for the band to gawk at with ungraciousness, Jeongguk actually turns back around. Another elongated sigh leaves his mouth, the sound of creeping boredom, and finally, his gaze once again settles on yourself. 

You’ve moved since he last looked over; the book on sharks is set on top of the desk again, and now you’re risen. From where he is standing, the desk curves, revealing that his predictions on dress length were fruitless considering the stretch of your dress rises above the knee, bunching around your thigh comfortably. He has to respect it- it’s hot in Venice.

Without particularly wanting to, Jeongguk’s legs wander from his original spot towards the desk, his eyes elsewhere to feign disinterest. The truth of the matter is that he isn’t really interested, unless you counted the dull rise of arousal in the pit of his stomach. That being said, Jeongguk glances up at your face once more and sucks air into his cheeks, hollowing the skin as he knocks on his heels and turns away from you before you can notice. Namjoon was right, to some extent. You were pretty.

“You like The Clash?”

A sweet voice hauls Jeongguk’s attention up and over towards the corner of the desk, where on the other side you stand with both hands flat on the surface, your entire body lifting your weight cutely. Jeongguk’s heart leaps and he glares down at his hands, finding London Calling in his hands, indicating that whilst on his solo mission of pretending to be preoccupied near you, he had just picked up the first thing in front of him.

Jeongguk clears his throat gruffly and shakes his head once. “No.”

For a few seconds, nothing is said. “Oh.” And Jeongguk hopes you’ll leave it there, let him pretend he’s invisible until he’s thought of something to say, but as always, his prayers are ignored. “Do you need help finding something?”

“No,” Jeongguk grits out. He speaks with acrimony, the tone at first catching you off-guard until he looks up, and his eyes tell a quiet story that makes your mouth close tightly. “I’m browsing. Am I not allowed to browse?”

Whether he likes or expects it, the way Jeongguk speaks makes a grin spread across your face, covering your original expression of surprise. He’s not quite sure how to feel about this, or what to make of how his chest feels when it happens.

“Sorry,” you reply, not exactly sounding apologetic. “It’s my job to ask, I guess. Well...enjoy your browsing. If you need me…” Repeatedly, his gaze lifts from the stack of CDs back towards you and it is only when you look away that he allows himself to slip, the smallest of frowns tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Although he knows better, Jeongguk sighs and pushes himself away from his end of the desk. It slides, semi-circular with the front in the store and behind it in its own secluded room, decorated with posters and old lockers that are used for storage. It doesn’t take looking up to register the fact that Jeongguk has moved next to you, parallel; something about Jeongguk feels particularly distinct, heavy and intimidating with the smell of hazelnut that enriches woody elements, a signature male smell that fills your nose.

“So.” Jeongguk starts over, his voice clipped but also clear, as though encouraging a conversation. To you, it feels unpredictable, almost as if talking to him was absurd; to Jeongguk, it is a bravado. “You like sharks.”

Out of surprise, your attention snaps towards him. His expression gives nothing away, and it is only when he raises his eyebrows expectantly that you remember the book, that stupid book you found under the desk when you clocked in this morning after your nine-am seminar. The Encyclopedia of Sharks, smiling razor blades face up at you and an embarrassed heat rises in your body.

“Um, not really?” you confess, avoiding the scrutiny of his stare. Jeongguk’s face is levelled into unamusement, challenging the fact you don’t like sharks in the same way you questioned his interest in The Clash. A bewildered smirk dawns on his face and you smile, tightly and revealing a dimple near your jaw that Jeongguk’s attention is pulled to. “I like Sharknado, though.”

“Right,” Jeongguk replies, finishing with a laugh that is mostly air through his teeth, a snigger of sorts, and he shakes his head downwards, fluffing his hair all within the same movement. It shocks you, genuinely, to hear a laugh come out from his mouth.

While he is busy sniggering to himself, because apparently what you said tickled his remaining sense of humour, you seize the opportunity to dance your eyes across his body. “Your tattoos are pretty.” It leaves your mouth carelessly, but Jeongguk looks up with a smile on his face, a gorgeous set of pearly whites on show.

“Yeah?” he asks, and then he flexes his arms unintentionally, peering at the black ink decorating his skin. Your mouth waters inside, soaking in the sight of him before it’s snatched away, like all the good things in your life. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” you offer, feeling mortified.

“I saw you’re close with Yoongi,” Jeongguk mentions, after a short pause. “Boyfriend? Best friend? Super close colleagues?”

“What? Ew, no. Yoongi’s my cousin. Well. You know, when someone just becomes a cousin ‘cos you’re close,” you reply, and Jeongguk nods casually, pursing his lips, and it ends there. “Also...none of your business.” He smirks.

On cue, an eruption of laughter simmers from across the store where Yoongi and the rest of Jeongguk’s friends are gathered, and you swallow the lump in your throat and glance at him, finding he hasn’t looked away. “Are you guys, like...in a band, or something?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. Should he be offended or relieved that you don’t know who he is?

“Something like that,” he nods.

“Can’t be that popular then, if I don’t know you,” you tease, fighting the urge to laugh when Jeongguk’s face falls dramatically. “I’m kidding. What did you say your name was again?”

“We’re called August Blue.”

“No, I meant your name,” you laugh.

Jeongguk splutters, coughing nothing out of his throat. “Oh. Jeongguk.”

There is no reasonable explanation behind why Jeongguk’s stomach feels weird when you smile- it is an unspoken rule that Jeongguk doesn’t do feelings. Jeongguk doesn’t do romance period, only hooks up on the rare occasion that he’s high enough to feel something for someone other than himself. Yet something is unsettling inside, bubbling like the top layer of boiling water in a cauldron, threatening to spill out in waves.

“Well, Jeongguk from August Blue- who I shall be indulging in very soon, as in, when you leave the store and I can do it without you watching me-,” you pause when he laughs again. You wonder if he laughs often, or if you’re one of the lucky ones. “-, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“Is it?” he questions disbelievingly.

You tilt your head curiously. “Why wouldn’t it be? I mean, aside from you coming for me doing my job.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Whatever. And, I’m just saying.”

A playfulness grabs at your shirt. “Why? Are you dangerous, Jeongguk?” Your eyes narrow into slits, challenging, and Jeongguk just smirks, exhaling softly. There is something charismatic about him, that’s for sure.

“All I’m saying, is that guys like me aren’t good for girls like you,” Jeongguk settles, unprepared for the unexpected laughter that bursts from your chest, bouncing around the room until Jeongguk actually feels somewhat uncomfortable. “What?”

But the laughter is uncontrollable, loud enough to bring Yoongi back to the desk questioningly, followed by the rest of August Blue as they shadow Yoongi like lost puppies. Yoongi pushes the small gate open and his eyes widen at you hunched over on the desk, secondly acknowledging Jeongguk as he stares deadpan at you, wondering what it was he said that was so comedic.

“You make it sound so simple,” you tell him, once the laughter has subsided. “It’s cute that you think you know what kind of girl I am.”

Hoseok side-eyes the situation as Seokjin fishes out his credit card, feeling as though they’ve all interrupted something they shouldn’t have. What is more shocking is the fact that Jeongguk accepts the challenge- he’s normally isolative with his voice when around new people, only comfortable at home or on the stage surrounded by people screaming lyrics he died to dream up and write down.

“Aren’t I right though?” Jeongguk asks, smiling like he’s got it figured out. “The pretty innocent girls like you...I’m the kind of guy your family warned you about.” While Namjoon snorts, Taehyung nods, supporting Jeongguk’s statement as you look over his shoulder at him.

Before you can even speak, Yoongi barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he returns Seokjin’s card. “Guk, you have no clue.”

If there’s one thing Jeongguk dislikes, it’s feeling as though he’s missing out on something. Back and forth, he looks at both yourself and Yoongi, waiting for an explanation. Yoongi prolongs it, finding sadistic enjoyment in the gradual irritation solidifying on his face, his tongue prodding his inner cheek with a bored expression to match.

“Dude, her daddy’s Axel Choi,” Yoongi snorts, and he laughs loudly when Jeongguk’s whole face drops to the floor, the butterflies in his stomach replaced with an instant sourness, like the bitter burn of alcohol after one too many glasses.

Bewildered, Jeongguk is rendered speechless, and while Yoongi burps laughter and makes a note of the stock now that Seokjin has purchased something, the respective remaining four members of August Blue share cautious glances, apprehensively watching what Jeongguk does or says. Saying Axel Choi feels stupid and minute, but within Jeongguk’s world, it has the same consequence as saying Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter. Whatever attempts Jeongguk has made to forgive or forget what Axel Choi once said to him in that 7-Eleven in Busan is fruitless, the judging and patronising tone clear in his ears, flooding back like a PTSD.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

“Ooh,” you start, lifting up with excitement, “what did he dooo?”, at the same time that Namjoon warningly mutters Jeongguk’s name.

“You look nothing like him,” Jeongguk says dumbly.

“That’s kinda where the step comes in. Stepdad, no blood relation, thank fuck!”

“Come on, Guk, it’s not like she was even there when he shat on all your hopes and dreams,” Yoongi frowns, raising his hand slightly in an effort to diffuse the tension. Purposefully, he ignores the way you look at Yoongi with question, realising instantly that Jeongguk’s behaviour isn’t a matter of personality but instead pride, a desperation to prove himself. “Lay off.”

“He’s family.”

“Is he fuck,” you snort, the sound and language together making Jeongguk even more confused, his head pounding with a mixture of nausea and relief, the upset of his seventeen year old self something he can’t quite shrug off, like the memory of a bad dream. “And, come on. Isn’t that unfair? Put it this way- your dad kills someone, should we go to jail too just because we’re family?” Jeongguk says nothing. “Besides, he’s been married to my Mom for like, six years? And I still don’t like him or get along with him!”

“We just have...bad experiences with him,” Namjoon admits, not forgetting to throw a glare in Jeongguk’s temperamental direction, and he reacts with a jerk, an annoyed scoff leaving his mouth.

Jeongguk crosses his arms. “He told us we’d never succeed. The fucker basically said we didn’t have the talent to be big.”

“And yet, here you are,” you point out thoughtfully, and Jeongguk pauses, acknowledging you fully. “People always succeed when others are negative. I guess we’ll just have to prove him wrong, hm?”

The funny part is that Jeongguk absolutely knows that you are right. In spite of the jarring fact that Axel Choi’s memory is now back in his life with the news of your connections to him, Jeongguk is fully aware of how none of this is your fault. Jeongguk knows better than anybody that baseless judgements were more often unhelpful and toxic than not, and instantly, an apology is brewing in his mouth, words connected by thin strings in his brain, formulating two simple words that feel impossible to mouth. 

Alas, rockstars and their inflated egos; Jeongguk swallows the words back down, battling the urge to say what’s truly on his mind because he’s afraid of what might come out in its place.

So he walks.

Dejected and confused, Jeongguk spares a look at everybody in the room before shaking his head, as if trying to get something out of his head. The worry that slightly pools in your stomach at the sight of it worsens when he storms back down the length of the stacks, closely followed by Hoseok who is a foot away from calling his name. For the rest of the band, it seems, this is instrinctic of Jeongguk, and they quietly but speedily finish up and follow suit. Before he exits, Namjoon smiles over at you, something hidden in the movement that assures you it’s not your fault, even when your agape mouth and stuttering starts suggest you feel otherwise.

Jeongguk makes it out of DBOY before his lungs cave inwards, the hot smell of air pumping into his body as he steps outside to catch his breath. Hoseok’s hand comfortingly presses between his shoulder blades as he finally catches back up with the younger, and Jeongguk refrains from snatching himself away. The demon in his head cackles and the desperate angel pets his hair, tells him that if he pushes more people away, he’ll have nobody. Jeongguk’s not sure if he’s heard that angel speak before.

Hoseok guides Jeongguk back towards the car, silently accepting that Jeongguk didn’t mean it. He never does. He quietly accepts it, patting his leg when Jeongguk sits down once the car is unlocked. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word, not even when the rest of August Blue pile in the car, animatedly talking about the Korean restaurant they’re planning to eat at next. Clockwork routine, they never bring it up afterwards.

The car pulls away and Jeongguk winds the window down with a frown. He’d like a cigarette.

Not that Jeongguk has been counting, but it has been four days since August Blue had visited DBOY. 

Against his tight schedules consisting of long hauls in Adora’s studio, revising songs and making minor changes to each track in preparation for the album release in a few days time, the mere memory of DBOY has been the last thing and least important thing on his mind. In sooth, he doesn’t think about it until he’s alone, vulnerable in his own personal comforts surrounded by white and red. The memory haunts him, keeps him awake for no reason. Jeongguk wishes he could go back, wipe the slate clean, listen to the angel and not be such a prick. He can do this- he does do this.

On the following day, Jeongguk wakes up with a free schedule, waking in bed with the dark grey sheets belted around his lower waist. Casting a glance to his phone that lights up distractedly with notifications, he sees that the time reads eleven am and he yawns. Knowing the rest of the band, they’ve probably scattered already; Hoseok had mentioned something off-handedly last night about spending the day with Roseanne, and Namjoon would most likely be reading alone or exploring with Taehyung, the final man of the hour, Seokjin, sleeping in until it hurts to sleep.

He could do the same, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jeongguk gets himself up and ready, finding his body lead itself back in the direction of DBOY, only realising that he’s come back when he’s outside the front blinking up at the sign.

Somewhere down the street, the sound of screaming reaches his ears- sometimes it’s hard to escape the fans who long for a glimpse at their idols, and to avoid them catching on as to where he’s fled to, Jeongguk hurls himself through the heavy metal door and into the store. It comes as no surprise that it’s empty inside, cool again and this time bursting the lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac record he can’t quite remember the name of but recognises.

The long walk down the length of the aisle is intimidating, daunting as Jeongguk walks and sees nobody behind the desk. Aside from the echoed sound of Fleetwood Mac, the store is virtually silent- admittedly, there is a small group of teenagers at the other end talking quietly, but they are so muted that Jeongguk at first doesn’t realise they are there. Instead he continues forward, slowing significantly when he reaches the desk and finds absolutely nobody in attendance.

For a second, Jeongguk considers leaving. However, the herd of fans he had stalking him outside are no doubt still outside somewhere, and as soon as he considers it, the sound of your voice makes his head snap up attentively. The door that joins the desk space to the back office rattles slowly and then pulls open, and Jeongguk inhales a breath when you step out, as charming as you were five days prior.

Jeongguk is all you see when you pick your chin up, staring at his face closely as he hovers lumpishly, looking out of place. Before he can speak, you regard his appearance, a flattering mixture of tonal blacks; the tight leather jacket covering a black roll neck and tight skinny jeans, even the trademark face-mask that has been pulled below his face, hanging by his neck.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, stunned. “Jeongguk, right?…”

“Hi,” he replies, and you take pleasure in noticing the dulled volume of his voice. “You’re here.”

He considers it a win when you smile. “Well, I do work here.”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t know why I said that,” Jeongguk mutters. “I just...Are you free?”

You make your way towards the desk, gently kicking an empty storage box with your feet. “Sadly, I am always free. You know, considering Yoongi is so popular, this shop is always empty. What’s up with that?” It’s rhetorical, and Jeongguk laughs gently. “What’s up? Left something here? I didn’t think you’d come back...well, after…”

Jeongguk frowns immediately, the unmissable darkened gaze of regret on his face. “That’s actually why I came back. Look.” He sighs, deeply and loudly. “I know it’s not your fault. With Axel.” As he speaks, your gaze is glued on him, your eyes occasionally scanning various parts of his face. “And it’s so fucking unfair for me to hold you against things he said before you even knew him, or whatever, yknow? I guess it just caught me off guard.”

You nod genuinely. “It happens.”

“And, look, I know I don’t even really know you that well, but I can tell you’re just nothing like him,” Jeongguk continues, his temper rising slowly. “You’re kind, and funny, and he’s just an asshole and-” But he stops. And, what? And, he’s still family.

“You’re right,” you agree, laughter spilling from your tongue. “No, he’s the biggest asshole. And his music sucks, let’s be honest.” Jeongguk’s mouth opens, like he wants to speak. “No wonder it took him fourteen years to make a hit…” And he laughs, loudly and in agreement. 

It must be a rarity to see him smile, to hear him laugh; with your heart in the sky, staring at Jeongguk laugh makes you feel warm, your hands quivering with satisfaction at the way his eyes curve into horizontal brackets, like moons, his teeth free with the comfort of knowing he’s safe being happy.

So, explicitly, he doesn’t say sorry like he wanted to. He tries- the words are right there, it would be easy, it is easy. As always, you are understanding, sympathetic to Jeongguk as he struggles to get his words out coherently. You know what he means. You like that he cared enough to try, anyway.

Realistically, he could have left it there, and maintained that stereotypical air of mystery and unavailability he’s used to showing people. On the contrary, Jeongguk finds more reasons to slink back towards DBOY, until he’s entirely familiar with your work schedule, having accidentally turned up when you were at a lecture, and had to suffer the pressing curiosity of your cousin. Yoongi had been so over Jeongguk pretending he was here out of personal pleasure of being surrounded by music that he had eventually just told him your work times, prompting Jeongguk into working harder in the studio to ensure more free time.

Like always, nobody in the band minded. If it meant Jeongguk was investing his spare time in something other than his own loneliness, they were happy to let it be. As for yourself, the reoccuring showing of Jeongguk in DBOY was at first, something you anticipated until the third showing where he had turned up in what you think might be his best look yet. Finally, he wears splashes of colour, his aura breathing with life as he turns up to the store wearing blue denim jeans, with maroon boots and a red beanie over his hair which has been flattened.

Each visit from the man is memorable in its own way, for either parties; you gradually learn that Jeongguk was the lead singer of August Blue, his accent distinctly Australian no thanks to his mother’s dual citizenship that resulted in many family holidays out there, and the year abroad that had chanced him to meet Yoongi. In return, Jeongguk learns that you haven’t even turned twenty yet, your birthday approaching soon, and that your a dilettante, knowing virtually nothing technical about music and instead comfortable in the field of physical art, a first year studying visual art and media.

Jeongguk learns all of this on the third visit. On the fourth, he finds out that you’ve finally listened to his bands music in time for their album release the following day, now in love with the truth of their lyrics, a direct quote from your mouth that Jeongguk remembers perfectly. And on the day of THREE AM’s release, on one of his final days before tour preparations are due to start, Jeongguk finds himself in DBOY with the sound of his own voice on the speakers, and the breathtaking sight of you dancing while stacking the shelves.

It’s a new track, one off the album that dropped this morning. Dancer In The Dark plays all around him, his mind reeling when he reaches you, your back to him and hips twirling as you work. You don’t even need to turn around for Jeongguk to know that you look gorgeous- that’s something that has changed over the past few weeks of Jeongguk returning to DBOY to see you, and annoy Yoongi, respectively. 

Something inside of Jeongguk now craves you, beyond the simple lust he would have imagined. Perhaps it’s the way you didn’t know who he was, treated him like a human being rather than a God; maybe it was the way you’re so ordinary, a taste of normality Jeongguk misses, or the way you’re a relation to someone he’s been working for the past four years to prove wrong. It could well be all three.

The baby blue teddy coat over your body covers your skirt, a display of smooth and tanned legs for him to leer at, your hair once again twirled into loose curls, half up and half down, a signature style like Ariana’s high pony. 

Evidently, you’re unaware of his entry. Yoongi still hasn’t changed the bell above the door and the speakers playing his record are right above your head; this gives Jeongguk the perfect opportunity to quietly approach you from behind, waiting until the chorus fades to an end for him to carefully press his hands into your waist with a soft “boo” pushing between his lips. 

In turn, you jump, his hands momentarily cupping your waist as you move out of his grasp, turning around defensively to see who in the right mind would dare to put a hand on you, only for the guard to be dropped with reassurance once you see Jeongguk behind you, a grin on his face.

“Hi, you,” you say to him, wincing when you realise how loud the music is. “Congrats on the album release!”

Jeongguk laughs boyishly. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Mhm!” you assure, nodding with emphasis. Jeongguk follows the hint of moving away from the loud music as his voice transitions into the opening chords of a David Bowie track. “Do you even have a bad song? Like, the difference between Vibes, Dancer in the Dark and Keep it Up...gorgeous.” He laughs again, feeling over the moon at your authentic excitement. “I really love your voice.”

If humans could melt, Jeongguk would be gloop. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it, I’m glad you like it.” His brows quirk playfully, “Clearly.” He means your dancing, circular swirls to his voice, and you conceal a smile and look away quickly.

“I recognise Hold Your Breath, too,” you continue, choosing to deliberately ignore his playful comment. One might even assume it to have been flirting. “Isn’t that one of your earlier songs?”

By this point, you’ve hopped over the desk, slid over the wood as Jeongguk watched your coat and skirt hike up with the lift of your leg. “Mmm. I see you’ve done your homework,” he comments.

“I got...curious,” you defend weakly. “I like that song. I’m so glad you decided to do a studio version, it is what she deserved!”

Today might be a new record broken for How Many Times Can Jeon Jeongguk Laugh In Your Company.

“Well, there you have it. You can listen to all of it in HD to make up for me not being here for a while.” Your smile falters and Jeongguk smiles in an attempt to ease your disappointment. “We start our promotions next weekend, actually. Just a couple shows in the States, nothing huge.”

“Oh,” you nod, your voice oddly lost and spacious. “Ugh, I’d love to see you live. I bet it’s gonna sound amazing.”

A breath hitches in Jeongguk’s throat. Come on, idiot, jeers the demon inside of him. The angel slaps him on the back of the head but his words do not cease. You haven’t got all day to do it.

“Then come,” he blurts.

Mirroring him, your mouth falls round, open. “...O-M-G, I’d love to...but I’m like...broke,” you tell him, jokingly but around the truth you both know is there.

“Y/N, you can come for free, I’m inviting you,” Jeongguk explains slowly, the grin widening on his face. Awestruck, you’re lost in the beauty of it. “I want you to come. See us play, see me. You won’t have to pay for a single thing- everything’s on me.” He breathes, “Please,” added as an afterthought.

Admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated the following silence. “When?” you ask, breathily.

“Next Saturday,” Jeongguk offers, having thought about it since before the album came out. “At the Hollywood Palladium. It’s our opening show, and I’d just really, really like for you to be there.” You think about the date for a moment, smiling when you realise what day the date falls on.

“Hollywood? That’s...amazing, Jeongguk, really,” you tell him, your voice quiet still. “...Can I bring a friend? When I listened to August Blue, they were there and we both got really invested.”

A weight is lifted off Jeongguk’s shoulders knowing that his offer has been considered. He smiles brightly, the moons back out. “Depends. Is your friend male?”

Now it is your turn to grin, your weight held up by your elbows as you lean on top of the desk towards him, slotted between his hands. His familiar hazelnut scent is strong here. “Yes. He’s male, gay, and incredibly in love with my cousin.”

What Jeongguk feels is not relief, or irritation; an elevated feeling of happiness stirs in his chest. You are so unlike anybody he’s met, from the way you see the humour in everything he says, not taking him seriously enough to treat him like he’s better than everything else, and the way you make him feel like there’s something about him worth liking; to the way you’re probably the only person he’s ever met who genuinely likes the Sharknado franchise. It without a doubt goes without saying that good things pop up where you least expect them to, in people you didn’t anticipate meeting. Feeling like his head is in the clouds, Jeongguk’s lips press together into a smile, bashful in appearance and nods, satisfied.

“Okay then,” he nods, taking a second to grasp the situation before he laughs to himself, scratching his ear absentmindedly. “Here’s my number for then, then. You can call me when you arrive, and then I’ll come out and get you, or I’ll have our manager sort some things out, so you can skip the lines and get in before everyone else.”

“Alright,” you agree softly. “Thank you, Jeongguk.”

Although he shakes his head nonchalantly, feigning only a moderate amount of happiness, on the inside, Jeongguk’s body is screaming, his heart vibrating rapidly in his chest. On the other side, even when he bounces into a following conversation about your hair and the new book placed on the desk that you’ll probably read when you’re bored later today, you feel like you can’t breathe, can’t quite comprehend the fact Jeongguk is standing before you, his number in your phone, the sun unmatching his smile.

Some things don’t feel right, but being with Jeongguk isn’t one of them. Maybe luck is on your side for once.

(LOS ANGELES)

“So. You’ve decided to be late.”

Adjacent to where you’re standing, Park Jimin lies like a starfish on your bedsheets, his chin tilted up to the ceiling in agonising boredom as you fuss over your hair for the literal fifth time in the last four minutes.

Meeting Jimin was both the joy and the bane of your life, the boy being an unstable balance of chaotic and neutral, his sole purpose in life being to annoy the shit out of you. It had been a lovely sunny morning the day you first met him- only it had begun to thunderstorm the second he entered the arts classroom, pathetic fallacy. Being the quiet black sheep clearly did not always work in your favour considering the only spare seat left was the one next to you, meaning fate had decided to bring you both together to sketch still-life pears and grapes. Either that or a case of big, bad luck- the opinion differed depending on who you asked.

Regardless, here you both are; by cordial invite from Jeon Jeongguk himself, you have around twenty minutes to get to a venue that is thirty five away, and Jimin huffs for the fifth consecutive time, pointedly glancing over as you finish applying a generous amount of lipstick that no doubt will fade during the show. Your face is an art-piece, your body modestly covered in a silk buttoned shirt patterned with red flowers, tucked into some comfortable black jeans that Jimin turns his nose up at.

“They’re comfortable,” you argue weakly, finally following him to the car and deciding to do your shoes in the backseat. As half promised over text, Jeongguk sent a vehicle, the driver impatient and displeased by your tardiness but he says nothing, because it’s his job to drive, not to speak.

“Skinny jeans are the most impractical outfit for getting dicked down,” Jimin says with a clipped tone. “And isn’t it obvious that Jeongguk wants to do that?”

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It might not be like that.”

Jimin genuinely laughs. “Oh, come on- it totally is. Why else would he invite you backstage, send a car, and stop by at your work almost daily?”

“Maybe he wants to be friends?” you suggest, but both you and Jimin know that’s so far from the truth that you can’t even see it- you just don’t want to admit it just yet. When Jimin’s tongue darts out of his mouth with a smirk, you roll your eyes and lean down to your feet as the driver cruises down the street on the clock.

[17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: hey are you on your way?? [17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: havent heard from u [17:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: u ok?

About ten minutes into the drive, almost peaceful save Jimin’s random questions about Jeongguk, or the venue, neither particularly answerable at this stage, a series of notifications flood your phone. Taking the chance to answer while Jimin finds time to bully the driver into talking to him to cure his driving boredom, you glance down at the messages, your body reacting with a flush when you see Jeongguk’s name light up in bold.

[17:41PM] You: yes !!!! in the car rn

His reply is instantaneous.

[17:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cool 😋 as long as ur safe [17:42PM] Jeongguk 🎼: got worried lol

“Five minutes,” the driver calls, to nobody in particular as he pulls up to a set of traffic lights. Oblivious to speed limits, he seems to have got you there in the designated twenty, before the gates opened for the crowds outside.

[17:44PM] You: we will be there in five minutes ☺️ [17:44PM] You: : i’ll text you when we’re here [17:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cutie, see you then 😛

You are grown, and too old to be crushing over a boy like you’re in high school, but the way Jeongguk interacts makes your toes curl with a whole new alien type of fondness, the need to giggle paramount. You refrain from doing so, because if Jimin hears he will never let you live it down. In an effort to ignore the excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your leg bounces erratically as the driver, who is apparently named Joe after the chauffeur bodyguard in The Princess Diaries (no thanks to Jimin and his “boredom” which borders insensitivity), pulls up in the barricaded staff car park. The fans outside have no idea: they just see a car and start screaming, their cheers making goosebumps ripple up your arms like romantic kisses.

“That makes me feel really important,” Jimin mutters, perhaps glum about the fact that he hasn’t had this much attention since he was chubby and innocent in third grade. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” you breathe, unsure as to whether or not you mean it. Nevertheless, Jimin opens the car door and steps out, instantly making a crowd gathered by the barricade scream. They scream for anything, just wanting to be heard, but being Jimin, he soaks it up as you clamber out on the other side.

Jeongguk seems particularly popular, and it probably wouldn’t look good if fans saw an unknown girl get out the car to go backstage. You know how fans are, how it’s easy to jump to conclusions without the facts. While Jimin raises his hand to teasingly wave at the girls who scream in response, you follow Bodyguard Joe to the backstage door guarded by two oversized muscular men, bowing your head as you enter and feel the heat of the backstage rooms hit you in the face.

At some point, Jimin joins you inside, shuffling around your body when he spots Yoongi appear at the end of the opening corridor. Yoongi is always invited to August Blue shows, by personal invitation of the band-members who are mostly Namjoon. Remembering that Jeongguk technically has no idea you’re here, you quickly shoot him a text message before a female staff member touches your shoulder gently, offering a lanyard with VVIP written in black ink, likely a band members handwriting. She smiles, quickly running over the safety regulations because, give her a break, it’s her damn job. You’re nodding, acknowledging her words blindly until she’s done, sending you on your way towards Taehyung who pops his head around the corner and smiles brightly when he sees you.

“Hey, you!”

Quite honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever said a word to Taehyung before. He doesn’t seem particularly awkward to speak to you despite this fact, and beckons you closer with a wave of his hand. As you draw nearer, you smell the faint aroma of vodka crossed with raspberry, clinging to his clothes and mouth as he comes close to speak so you can hear him over the heavy bass filling the speakers.

“What?” you ask him loudly, seeing his mouth move with nothing coming out. All you can hear is the recording of Obsessive on the speakers, pounding, reverberating the floor beneath your Dr Martens.

“I said,” Taehyung shouts, his lips on your ear, “Jeongguk’s waiting for you. I need a wee really badly, but he’s in the artists lounge, that way.” He points vaguely in a direction, but the sight of Jimin stepping in and out of a room indicates the general direction regardless. “Enjoy the show, yeah?”

“Course!” you nod to him, and he wastes zero seconds staring at you and legs it in the opposite direction, towards where you assume the toilets are. Your eyes follow him as he leaves in endearment; he’s cute, constantly looking bewildered and confused. It’s his almond eyes, like puppy dogs’.

But the thought of seeing Jeongguk outweighs watching Taehyung leave; you hurry down the corridor and enter the room you expect to be the artists lounge, and your breath is taken away immediately when Jeongguk is the first thing you see.

As if anticipating your entry, he stands the second you enter, and while he moves, you freeze. Jeongguk looks absolutely breathtaking: his hair is curly, falling over his face with a slight parting not directly centered, hooped earrings hanging from his earlobes, adding a sparkle secondary to the way his eyes are shining in the backstage lights. His skin is gorgeously tanned, shaded and accentuated by the slipping material of his shirt that reveals the expanse of his collarbones, the black complementing the tightness of his jeans. You don’t get to look at his shoes- he stops at your toes and you peer back up at his face, rendered speechless by the smile on his face.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says, laughing as if it’s so crazy that you’re here, actually here. Before you can even think of speaking, Jeongguk inhales a breath and brings it back in with one movement; he reaches for you, encircling his arms around you for a quick hug that you’re not going to let go to waste. As soon as he feels your hands on his back, he pulls you closer, tighter almost, one hand on your lower spine and the other on the back of your head.

The hug is genuinely short, but it feels eternal.

“You made it,” he comments, his voice so bewildered that for a moment, you’re actually confused. Jeongguk speaks insecurely and it makes your heart wrench- you wonder who hurt him before, what made him think that he wasn’t deserving of things as simple as somebody coming to a show when he asked them to.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” you tell him truthfully, your arms slipping to his forearms. “I’m excited!”

Jeongguk grins happily. “Me too! Ah, I’m happy you’re here. You look gorgeous.” And without shame, he drags his gaze up and down your body.

“That’s good, then,” comes Jimin’s thrown in comment from across the room, where he occupies one of the leather seats next to Yoongi and across from Hoseok, who fidgets skittishly and fiddles his fingers at a Rubix cube. “Do you know how close we were to being late because she was busy deciding a lip colour? Jimin should I go red or nude? Jimin does this shirt go with my shoes? Jimin should I paint my nails red or black to match?”

A laugh ripples out of Jeongguk’s chest and he looks back at you adoringly.

“That’s not how it happened,” you protest weakly, pouting when Jimin cackles and smirks. “And we made it didn’t we? Shut up before I revoke the plus one card.”

“I’m already here, though,” Jimin reasons.

“I’ll force you outside,” you reply.

Yoongi pulls a face, then, finally joining the conversation. “Y/N, you can’t even open the front door to the shop when you enter, let alone drag Jimin outside. Nice try, though.”

An offended gasp leaves your mouth and Jeongguk turns around, petting the top of your head. “It’s okay. Sometimes, even I can’t open it. Anyway- drink?”

You decline this offer, not really wanting to drink anything heavy in fear of vomiting it up when the show starts. Based on your history, throwing up when you’re overly excited seems to be a dirty habit, something Jimin is very happy sharing when you opt for a glass of water while Jeongguk carefully pours himself a glass of whiskey. He doesn’t tease or poke fun. Jeongguk simply smiles, like the story is a memory he’s fond of remembering, and nods you in the direction of the couch where he wants you to sit. It stays this way right up until the show starts, and then the chaos begins and the nerves settle.

Now, you’ve never been backstage before, never seen how crazy it gets as the show’s about to start. While the rest of the band hurry around collecting outfit pieces, taking a drink or tuning their instruments to perfection, Jeongguk quietly tugs at your arm and brings you to the side, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face, a frequently used expression when it concerns yourself.

“Rachel is our main backstage manager and she’s gonna take you and Jimin down to where I’ve put you for the show, yeah?” he explains, his gaze intent. Rachel is the woman from earlier, smiling patiently near the door. You spare her a glance and then look back at Jeongguk. “I’ve put you down by the stage so I can see you, okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in the crowd, you’re right by the stage in front of the barricade with the staff,” Jeongguk says. “Safe and sound, comfy and cosy. Can you come back after the show? There’s a party. I’ll- I’ll take you?” His tone is expectant, hopeful, and you’d be absolutely insane to let him down.

“I’ll come,” you promise. “Good luck!”

Again with the boyish charms; Jeongguk’s following smile is relaxed and lopsided, his head similarly quirked.

“Thanks, baby,” he calls, his smile widening when he notices the surprise flood your cheeks. “Cheer loud for me?”

“Always,” you tell him, gauging the scrunch of his eyes before Rachel directs both Jimin and yourself out of the backstage vicinity and towards the VVIP standing just next to the barrier. Whether or not Jimin overheard the entire ordeal is unclear; he doesn’t comment even if he did happen to overhear, remaining uncharacteristically silent until you reach your spot and he loosens up, gazing up at the stage in wonder.

When the venue feels packed to the brim and the reverberating bass of guitars literally vibrates the room, Jimin screams something about his excitement over the noise, catching your widened smile in his direction and laughing, throwing his arms around you.

Hollywood Palladium is genuinely packed to the brim, the fans by the barricade stamping excitedly as the VCR rolls to an end, the lights fade to a crimson red and silhouettes of August Blue appear on the stage. They are sensational, eliciting a chorus from the crowd that is deafening. Jimin laughs again, looking back and forth at the crowd and back at the stage, two girls from the barricade recognising him as the guy from outside and taking a photo, likely anticipating that he is of importance.

Like all concerts, the first five minutes are mind-blowing, epic and fantastical and slightly nerve-racking for all parties. At the sound of the opening chords of Meddle About, another wave of screams pierce the crowd and you wince, not expecting it but a smile still wide on your face. The cymbals crash and the lights flash brightly, revealing Jeongguk on the stage at the front, both his hands on the microphone as he speaks the first words of the night, lyrics dripped in smooth vocals that make your body swirl like on drugs. It’s mesmerising, sexy and sounding perfectly like the studio recording.

Hearing them live is a whole different experience- the way that August Blue perform is otherworldly, feeling like you’re in a subspace of slow-motion, every movement on stage emphasised. Not wanting to waste all of the show gawking at the lead vocalist, you glance at all of the other members, in awe of their talents and presence on the stage, even spotting the golden gleam of a saxophone in your peripheral vision. It is only then that you register the fact that Taehyung plays the saxophone live, and excitement and anticipation replaces birthed nerves from the opening song.

When Meddle About fades to a finale, Jeongguk smiles to himself widely as the melody to Obsessive plays almost immediately after, Namjoon’s riff introducing Jeongguk’s welcoming, “Hollywood Palladium, are you ready?” before he dives into the song. Here, Taehyung fiddles for his sax and beams down at both you and Jimin, returning to his spot to play as the song continues.

Like all songs from August Blue, you wish it would never end, your heels grinding the floor as you bop in Jimin’s arms, his chin buried in your neck as he rocks you from side to side affectionately. For the entirety of the song, and even after then, you refuse to take your eyes off Jeongguk; he moves with calculation and care, the world his bitch beneath his feet as he smirks, fucking the crowd, swirling in figure eight motions as he sings. Jeongguk is the eighth wonder of the world.

Obsessive ends, your torso rising and falling after their performance. It was a show of elan, your body buzzing with small vibrations like a bumblebee; Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, and he exchanges caring looks with the other members, giving them the opportunity to catch their breath as he once again addresses the crowd.

“Hollywood…” he starts, smiling wolfishly when the crowd erupts into piercing screams, the fans at the barrier pounding against the metal bars impatiently and Jimin eyes them cautiously, wrapping his arms tighter around you and considerately shuffling further away. Jeongguk glances down, then, making sure everything is okay, and his eyes fall on you. The first thing he sees is your smile, enamoured and bright and wide, like golden light at the end of a dark tunnel he can’t get out of. You notice now that he speaks how strong the accent is, months and years of Australian visits clearly paying off. It’s nice, new and different, completely unlike how he speaks in Korean. “We feelin’ good tonight?”

The crowd respond gleefully, and Jeongguk chuckles into the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming out here tonight,” Jeongguk begins, swaying slightly on his feet. The movement is endearing. “Being here, on this stage, is something we have dreamed about, and now that we’re here...Wow. We couldn’t be here without you guys. Everyone who’s here- friends, family, lovers-” the crowd scream because they’re used to being mentioned this way, but when Jeongguk’s gaze briefly flickers down to you, you immediately burn up, curling into Jimin as your best friend laughs knowingly, squeezing you tighter when Jeongguk finishes his speech to the crowd, “-you guys are fucking awesome. You like the album?”

Of course, Jeongguk is not alone on the stage. Reminded of this fact, you pay attention to each members introduction, occasionally finding your eyes wandering back to the lead vocalist who seems to always be staring back. In a sea of screaming fans and waving banners, Jeongguk’s eyes land on you each time, as if reminding himself that you are here, you are here for him.

When the band finish their introductions and Jeongguk says his piece, and the opening hum from the guitars around him announce Dancer in the Dark, Jeongguk glances at you one final time and sees the way your body reacts to the song familiar to your ears, a curve extending the corner of his mouth. Jeongguk brings his attention back to the crowd where it will stay for the rest of the concert, his mind wandering between each lyric and break. Maybe- just maybe, things would work out for him in the end.

DEVIL IN THE DARK. (HOLLYWOOD)

There is a constant hum in your ears, your fingertips vibrating as you force yourself out of the car.

Judging by the sky draped in an ebony black, it’s either extremely late or extremely early, the loud music from the large estate already audible and you haven’t even entered the party yet. Even though Jeongguk had expected to take you in his personal vehicle to the party that would celebrate their first American show of the year, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan; his eyes met yours as soon as you hurried backstage to find him, pleading and frantic and your name on the tip of his tongue, unspoken when Rachel ushers the band out of the venue after an already overstayed welcome. Still, the frequent vibration of your phone under your thigh when you settled travelling with Yoongi and Jimin instead kept your thoughts preoccupied, Jeongguk’s contact practically permanent on your lock screen.

[23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: shit !!!!! [23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: i wanted to wait but they kept pushing me outside [23:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: did u get out safe? [23:43PM] You: yep don’t worry !!! [23:43PM] You: we’ll be on our way soon [23:44PM] You: im hungry so we’re getting food first oops [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok baby see u soon [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼 is typing…

The triple dots are constant.

Bodyguard Joe is the driver who drops you off, muttering under his breath when all three of you pile out the back and he’s free to leave. Before Yoongi can even shut the door properly he is speeding away, desperate to get out of there. Yoongi can’t say he blames him- he’s only staying for a little bit, at least until Jeongguk starts being Jeongguk. He deliberately doesn’t mention it to you. He wants you to see it for yourself.

Inside, it’s hard to see through the smoke. There had only been about fourty minutes difference between Jeongguk arriving there and the three of you, and evidently, they waste no time bringing the party into motion. Already, guests either by invite or chance are drunk, intoxicated with dark beer bottles and shot glasses, a wreckage of splintery glass by the door surrounded by a pair of shoes, like a warning. The lights are dimmed, each room dark save a lamp with a dying bulb or LED lights, flashing rainbow colours to the beats of songs, the smell of alcohol and weed lifting in the air. It’s rancid, strong and pungent but typical of parties you’d expect celebrities within the realm of Jeongguk to do, people who held the world at arms length.

Along the wall, the coat pegs are covered in a bundle of mismatched coats and jackets, a single Converse hanging by its laces as some sort of practical joke. In light of this, you decide to just keep your coat thrown over your shoulders, the black suede comfortable and moreover protective as faces you’ve never even seen before regard you with high interest as you pass. Jimin scowls and drags you closer to him, Yoongi leading the way with a gaze that could kill, parting the sea of dancers like Moses. The vibe, however, remains undisturbed, the bodies continuing to dance and drink as they were before Min Yoongi stepped through the mix, with two virtual nobodies behind him. He knows where he’s going- he’s done this before.

This mansion is a maze, with corridors leading everywhere, filled with bodies you didn’t know. You deduce that the main parlour where you’re headed to is the hub of the party, judging by the way the small groups of people outside become multiplied, the sound of laughter and music louder when you enter through a doorway. The room is soaked in an indigo neon light, the long haul of strip lights attached to the moulding by the ceiling by silver pins; almost all of August Blue accommodate one of the recliner sofas, one particular male suspiciously absent.

“Yoongi!” Faintly over the sound of the music, Namjoon’s voice carries its way to your trio, Yoongi’s attention moving to the band and he moves in that direction, with both Jimin and yourself close on his heels. Namjoon already looks affected by the alcohol stirring in a whiskey glass, the colour clear and making no difference when it sloshes over the side onto the bare skin of his forearms. Exchanging a tight lipped smile with Hoseok, who seats a beautiful girl on his lap who sips her drink quietly, you glance around the room for Jeongguk, your heart sinking when you don’t spot him anywhere.

“Great show,” Yoongi says, now that the music has been turned down somewhat, no thanks to Taehyung who has just stepped out of the bathroom and winced at the volume, now sitting back in his original spot beside Seokjin and his widened legs. As an afterthought, he adds, “as always. This is Jimin, by the way- and you know Y/N.”

Seokjin looks up from his glass: “Hi honey. Good night?”

“Yes, it was amazing,” you reply, your eyes wandering again. A few strangers are seated on the couch alongside the members, including three girls you aren’t familiar with. Two look out of this world, mentally vacant and the third watches you carefully, her lips pouted sourly. “Hello,” you call to her, uncomfortable.

“This is one of Rosanne’s friends, Cassandra,” Seokjin introduces, although he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

“Cassie,” she throws in.

“Oh, like the song,” you judge, looking back at Seokjin and catching the roll of his eyes before he can hide it away. Concealing a smile you look back at Cassandra.

“Yeah. Isn’t that funny?” she asks, giggling sweetly. “I like to tease Guk about it. It gets him shy. Did you see him on the way in, by the way? I’ve been looking for him.”

Oh. So she’s one of them- it’s evident in the way August Blue glance over at her with annoyance, glancing back at you with a blank stare. You know better. “No, actually. I just got here.”

“Well,” Cassandra-Cassie continues, smiling tightly, the look so ingenuine that it looks as though it hurts her to fake politeness, “if you see him, let him know that I’m looking for him.”

“Does he even know who you are?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. Cassandra narrows her eyes.

“We met in passing.”

A snort exits Jimin’s nose. “If he remembers you, I’ll genuinely be surprised.”

Whatever is or isn’t said by the rest of the couch is unheard by you; once Jimin has finished his slander of Cassandra-Cassie whilst perched on Yoongi’s knees, you decide you’ve heard enough and pick yourself back up off the couch despite having only just sat down.

Whoever remains at the couch pays you no mind, aside from Yoongi who nods gently as you gesture to the connecting hallway, an arch in the cream smooth wall that no doubt leads to either the outside, the kitchen or a bathroom, perhaps all three at once. His eyes do not leave you until you’ve wormed your way out of the room, quietly and meekly weaving through bodies on the walls and declining at least three drinks offered in your direction. After peering into several rooms, including the kitchen that was far too crowded and scorching to even enter, and glanced out through the french doors to the scattered party outside, looking on the patio glowing in blues and pinks, the pool splashing with laughter.

Even the end bathroom that is larger than the kitchen is practically empty save the guy passed out in the bathtub with a glass of sparkling champagne in a slender glass on the sink, and you suddenly feel very dejected, closing the door behind you as you exit back to the long hallway. Maybe everything was too good to be true- maybe girls like Cassandra were girls Jeongguk had invited, like he had you, suddenly ghosting when they all appeared in the same room. It feels rude to assume that, but with no text messages or indication as to where he might be and with whom, disappointment begins to simmer in your stomach.

It nearly settles, confusing dejection with nausea and the thought of Jeongguk having played you is a thought you ruminate, until you’re halfway down the hall and a door to a connecting room that has now opened welcomes a body cloaked in the bedroom darkness, an arm leaning out to grasp your sleeve and pull you inside.

A strange sense of deja-vu hangs over this situation, familiarity striking with the hand that unwraps from around your arm and meets the second around your waist. Before you have even finished twirling to face the body in ownership of said arms, the sound of quiet chuckling makes you relax instantly, a smile growing when you fall with a soft thud against the torso of Jeongguk, his mouth in level with your eyes.

“Hi, stranger,” you laugh softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Jeongguk hums, and you catch a whiff of alcohol practically pouring off him. “Been hidin’. You found me, you win.” Jeongguk does a poor job of attempting to be sober, his speech slurred and his smile cheesy and smirkish. “I was tryna ride with you, but Joon shut the car door and we just drove off, you know?” You honestly don’t, but you nod anyway. “Tried to call you but dunno where my phone’s gone. Think Joon’s got it.”

“That explains why you weren’t replying,” you say, mostly to yourself. Jeongguk inhales the air through his nose quickly, one sniff, and relaxes his arms around your middle; his forearms are resting on your hip bones with his fingers gently stroking and drumming against your lower back, and it is here, with him so close, that you notice the glow of sweat on his hairline, the fringes slightly matted down and smudged black under his eye, glitter shines of his eyebrow piercing. “Got worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” he repeats, that same smile on his face. Jeongguk sounds so amazed by this fact, so bewildered that you’d care.

Anticipation whirls in the pit of your stomach as his voice drops in volume and hardness, and the school-girl crush swims back to bite when Jeongguk’s forehead bends to press against your own, the taste of alcohol on your tongue before he’s even leaning in to kiss you. Jeongguk’s hands immediately fly to cradle your face, accidentally bringing a fistful of hair to your cheek as he holds you, practically picking your face up to warm to his mouth. It is just one kiss, long and deep and soft, leaving behind the taste of a bitter liquor.

Jeongguk’s eyes open through slits when he pulls away, analysing how you still haven’t come back to reality from it, and so he moves in again, in a body roll motion stealing a second kiss, his lips pressed up against you in full. He doesn’t know if it’s the booze in his veins or the electrifying feeling of your hands over him that has him buzzing all over- it could be both, for all he knew.

Beginning to doubt his own self control when you mumble and sigh into his mouth, Jeongguk gently brings himself away, out of the kiss and sending your eyes open in a daze. Cracking his own eyes open, Jeongguk restrains himself from going right back in- the orange glow from the outdoor lights shine on the left side of your face and his heart leaps, drumming in his ears. He frowns loudly, feeling your thumbs rub against his wrists. “Sorry.”

You pause, “Why?”

“For making you worry,” Jeongguk explains, his voice murmured through pouted lips. “I made the baby worry.”

“The baby?” you repeat, chuckling. He grins. “We’re almost the same age, y’know.”

“The baby,” Jeongguk coos, his giggles indicative of his level of soberness, which seems to be unlikely. “Little nineteen year old baby-”

“Twenty,” you add, and Jeongguk stops with a quiet “huh” that sounds like a baby, ironic. Jeongguk remembers you telling him your age, and that you’d be twenty soon. Had he missed your birthday? As if hearing his internal struggle, you smile softly: “Today is my birthday, actually.”

Truly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. His mouth hangs agape, like the information was sacred. “What…? You didn’t say anything- I could have got you something, done something-”

“This whole day has been a gift,” you stress, cutting him short and calming him down. “Truly. My Mom and Asshole are in the Maldives because that’s more important than me, and so I went out for breakfast with Jimin, skipped my yoga session because treat-yourself-vibes only on my birthday, and then I had the best time at your show and now we’re here. So, honestly-” as you talk, you finger his shirt, wrapping the material around your nail, “-everything has been amazing. This is my gift- you are my gift.”

Jeongguk pouts. “You’re way more important than the Maldives...you wanna go to the Maldives? Shall we go?” Based off the state of things, Jeongguk is a playful, chatty and overall excited drunk, his eyes blown wide with what you hope it just alcohol buzz. “I’ll take you.”

You laugh, gently stroking his jaw and very briefly, before he can get too addicted, kiss him. Before Jeongguk can pucker his lips back for you, you’re back on the ground with your feet flat, shyly smiling at the way he still tries anyway- because you can’t blame a man for trying.

“You like the party?” Jeongguk asks, unconcerned. His hands are back on your back, now, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Mm, it’s fun,” you agree. “Will you come out and join all of us? We’re all in the lounge-” you smirk up at him and he raises his brows, “Cassandra is there.”

“Who the fuck’s Cassandra?” questions his voice, and you laugh loudly, surprisingly gleeful.

“Someone else who was looking for you like me,” you tell him, frowning. He hums, interested in this fact and your expression. “Think she likes you.”

Outside the door, someone rattles at the handle, the noise falling short as though they’ve been stopped from entering. Jeongguk seizes the last word with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, and your gaze drops to his lips as his teeth drag on the bottom, pulling teasingly. “I’ve got my eye on someone special.”

There had been reasoning behind Yoongi’s decision to not mention Jeongguk’s habits.

For one, it’s none of his business to talk about what Jeongguk does and doesn’t do when under the influence. Secondly, he feels as though he’s not supposed to say, like it’s a secret he’s sworn to keep. Truthfully, Yoongi doesn’t want to give the wrong idea- he doesn’t want the truth to be misunderstood or misinterpreted, and so he stays quiet. Like all other members of August Blue when Jeongguk touches alcohol, he’s quiet. At this stage, there’s nothing he can do but wait for Jeongguk to stop, patient and helpful.

It has to be early hours, now, and if Yoongi’s phone wasn’t dead, he’d check. By this point, the party is on its last legs, the volume of people decreasing dramatically as songs become more slow and sultry, all the lights blood red. It’s about time he and Jimin leave, actually; like always, Seokjin and Taehyung have disappeared into one of their bedrooms on the second floor, and Namjoon is asleep on the couch with his mouth ajar, Hoseok and Roseanne planning to remain present in the hub until the party goes to sleep, because someone needs to clean up, and it sure as hell won’t be anybody else.

Yoongi bids his farewells individually, with Jimin needily clinging to the sleeve of his shirt with the vodka oozing out of his body, his head on a whole other planet. By the time Yoongi makes it to the other side of the room where you are with Jeongguk, he’s worried Jimin might actually fall asleep before they get to the car.

Something interesting has happened. Yoongi slowly moves towards the leftover crowd around Jeongguk and sees your face immediately, worry crossed with affection etched into the look on your face as Jeongguk tightly holds you on his lap, his legs twitching and smile on display. It’s around about this time Yoongi begins to overthink it, letting his gaze drop to your hands holding one of his while his other reaches out to the coffee table, littered with bottles and shot glasses, and most importantly, the puddles of white. He gulps, looking back at you. Surprisingly, you don’t look put off, or disgusted- more so you look sad, as if filled with intense guilt as Jeongguk hugs you, his heart in one place and head in another.

When one of the girls next to Jeongguk pats his arm and Jeongguk looks over, you spare the chance to look back in the direction of Jimin, overwhelmed with relief when you see him losing balance over the shoulder of your cousin. Jeongguk struggles for a second to let you free but he does, and you move towards Yoongi, already expecting his departure.

“You should leave too,” Yoongi says seriously. “Before he gets worse.”

He- you look over your shoulder at Jeongguk. Now, he’s on his knees, his chin on the coffee table as he inches towards a fresh line on the surface. Someone’s credit card sits decorated in the powder and Jeongguk, whilst pressing his finger to one nose, snorts the line without question and with a smile. You look away, facing Yoongi with a dark expression.

“You knew?”

“We all knew,” Yoongi sighs. “This...is moderate.”

Processing what he’s saying, you shake your head stubbornly. “If I leave, then it will get worse. I don’t want to leave him on his own. I wanna be here for him, before it gets worse than what it already is.”

“It will get worse, always does.”

“I don’t care, I’m not leaving him here,” you reason. “Before you tell me I’m not special and I can’t change him, I’m not here to change him. I’m here to support him. I’m gonna stay, make sure he’s okay.”

Yoongi really wants to intervene, warn you against it. People before you have tried, he wants to say. But he doesn’t; he smiles weakly, thinking about how you’re too good for the world and people around you and he brings you in for a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

“Alright. Happy birthday, by the way. Twenty...Hag,” Yoongi mutters before he pulls away. Jimin mirrors the movement, drunkenly giggling in your ear as he pulls away and thuds against Yoongi’s side. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t complain; secretly he likes the clinginess.

“Thanks, Yoongs,” you laugh, standing still until he steers himself and Jimin away from the scene and you’re left with no other option but to retreat back towards Jeongguk, who must be on his third line. The distinct and slightly jarring sound of snorting makes you hurry quicker towards him, until you can reach out and pet his hair, making him look up before he’s even finished the line.

The boyish grin that Jeongguk gives you when he looks up and sees your face is beyond beautiful, and he’s so distracted from the lines that he doesn’t notice or care when the girl next to him, displeased with his lack of attention, finishes it off for him. Doing everything in your power to not cry about how Jeongguk looks, fucked and wrecked with white powder under his nose, you shoot him a smile and smooth your hands down the side of his face.

“‘m pretty,” he mutters. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Laughter tugs at your throat, little puffs of air through your nose as you bend your head to meet his wandering gaze, wiping the powder from his nose before it kills you to keep looking at it. He sniffs, finding that it tickles, and plops his chin in your lap, hands on your thighs.

“Sleepy?” you ask, petting his curly hair.

“Mm.”

“Mm yes, or…?”

“Mm...comfy,” mutters Jeongguk. Through his hair, he looks up at you. “Can we make-out?”

You snort out a laugh, massaging his scalp. “Oh my God, you are so drunk. Come on, big guy.”

“Wanna stay with you,” Jeongguk says. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” you tell him. “I promise. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave now, too, I think the party’s pretty much over.”

Jeongguk eyes the room with a half-lidded gaze, furrowing his brows like he doesn’t quite know where he is. “Huh. Everyone left.”

“Mhm.” He starts to reach for the cocaine on the table again and your heart beats with panic. “Hey, I think that’s enough now.”

“Lemme finish,” Jeongguk requests.

“You’ve had enough,” you stress, taking hold of his hand. “Let’s leave it there for tonight, okay, baby?”

Jeongguk’s head snaps towards you. “Baby?”

You nod, affirming. “Yes. Look, oh, I’m so tired-” you pretend to yawn, keeping one eye open to observe his expressions as he smiles childishly.

“You’re faking,” he accuses.

“Nope. I’m so tired, let’s go sleep,” you continue.

Jeongguk continues to smile, occasionally laughing when the sound can get out of his throat. You’re half expecting it to be a waste of time, for him to insist on taking more lines and drinking more booze, but he does neither of these things. Jeongguk nods once and runs his hands across your thighs, taking them in his palms and roughly squeezing, getting to his feet when you tug him up.

Across the box shaped recliner pattern, Cassandra-fucking-Cassie glares up from her seat, alongside several others who stare at you as if you’ve grown another head. Truth be told, and unbeknownst to yourself, Jeongguk has never listened to anybody like he does for you. You have no idea how insane it is to see Jeon Jeongguk following the orders of a girl nobody knows, and honestly, you don’t care. Feeling Jeongguk’s hand slide into yours and the other occasionally reaching to fondle the back of your leg as he searches for you in dark is enough, it’s the only thing you care about.

You don’t really know where you’re going; behind you, Jeongguk is mumbling the way to his bedroom, which appears to be up the grand staircase and on the top floor, where he can pretend he’s above the world. Even with his directions, the path seems unpredictable, his torso occasionally bumping into you when you pause at corners. Eventually, Jeongguk notices where he is and conceals a yawn, his face contorted into sleepiness as he gently pulls you in the direction of his room, unsurprisingly at the end of the corridor, a master. Before he can open the door, Jeongguk yawns loudly, slumping against the doorframe and laughing slowly when you curve around him, reaching for the handle and forcing your way into the room.

Inside, it’s cold, the window propped open and a midnight colour hanging on the walls, silence. Jeongguk doesn’t turn on a light, and he doesn’t want you to either. He still holds onto your hand, or rather your fingers, and leads the way inside. His bedroom is like a hotel suite, a small lobby area of sorts when you walk in with three doors North, East and West, all leading to separate rooms including the main bedroom, bathroom and closet, all his for his own liking. He, of course, heads to the East, in the direction of his bed. It’s equally as cold in there but Jeongguk doesn’t care.

Under his breath, Jeongguk hums something unintelligent, waiting until he’s right by the side of his bed to twirl around. His arms find themselves back around you, lifting you off the ground which elicits a squeal of surprise and falls with a soft pat on top of the bed. Your pelvis is on his abdomen, your face on the bed next to his neck and he holds you tighter, engulfing your smell and warmth. Amongst the drugs and the childlike excitement, Jeongguk is an affectionate drunk around those who matter to him. His exhale of breath akin to a sigh tickles a breeze on your ear, and you struggle to pick your head up and look at his face; he meets you with a titter and puckers his lips, kissing you before you can decline. He grins triumphantly.

“Got it.”

“Mm, you did.”

He laughs again, the kind of laugh that sounds gravelly. He’s so drunk. “Got you.”

Humming, you entertain that thought, reaching your head to peck his jawline. Jeongguk sighs contently, about to move his hands from your waist to your thighs when you shuffle up and away, his brows furrowing with perplexion. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk’s head tilts. “Where are you going? Don’t leave.”

“I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll be right back,” you promise him. Jeongguk pouts, emotionally clingy which is unusual, but flops back down onto the bed without vocal protect.

In the time it takes for you to rush to the bathroom, pee out of nervousness and nervously pet your hair and make it look absolutely no different, Jeongguk is knocked out asleep when you re-enter the room. His breaths are quiet, and heavy, his legs hanging off the side with his heels on the floor. The urge to sigh is unreal, but you know he must be tired, more tired than you are. Standing just before him on the bed, you’re uncertain of what to do first, but then you move to pull his feet out of his shoes, quietly tossing them to the side and then hauling his legs up onto the mattress. At some point during the night, he might shuffle- he does, slightly, when his body is on one level, and he sleepily worms his way to the side of the bed closest to the window, the right side, his side.

Half of your heart wants to leave. Maybe the way Jeongguk acted tonight was purely because of things he drank, things he lets into his body. But, subconsciously, you know better; the other half of you begs for you to stay. If Jeongguk changed his mind, it would be one walk out of the door and out of his life, easy and simple.

Instead of thinking about that, you gently toss your jacket to the floor and kick off your own shoes, laying flat next to Jeongguk as he falls deeper into sleep. Even if he wakes up with cold feet tomorrow morning, at least he won’t be alone.

The next morning, it is raining. It doesn’t often rain, and so you can’t help but hear the heavy sound of rain outside the window, no thanks to yourself for forgetting to close it before climbing next to Jeongguk. Speaking of the man, he remains asleep, his head twisted on the pillow facing you with his body flat on his back, one leg up and the other spread out. He looks so peaceful, hopefully at peace with his dreams.

Without waking him up, you roll over off the bed and sink your feet to the floor, silently retreating to the bathroom with your phone in your hand. Surprised by the time, it reads eight fifty am, and you scroll down your notifications which seem to have multiplied unusually. Few are from Instagram but majority are texts, from Yoongi and Jimin, one from your Mom that reads a simple “happy bday” and nothing more.

[03:32AM]: Yoongi 👹: hope ur safe and ok [03:41AM] Yoongi 👹: did u go home?

He sent those at three.

[08:50AM] You: shit sorry [08:50AM] You: was sleeping [08:51AM] You: im still with jeongguk, he passed out and i stayed so he wouldn’t wake up on his own

There is a short silence.

[08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: ok, be safe [08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: jimin says good morning lol

Sitting on top of the closed toilet, you hurriedly reply to the flurry of messages and by the time you’ve finished, ten minutes have passed and it is now nine. Checking over yourself in the mirror and deciding that you could ultimately look a lot worse, you move back into the bedroom, overhearing loudness from the remaining people in the house who had an early start to the day.

Jeongguk stirs slightly, showing signs of being awake. Under his breath he groans, reluctant to confirm his consciousness by keeping his eyes closed, and you slowly reach to put your phone back on the bedside table and clamber on all fours onto the bed. With the weight dipped, Jeongguk huffs, peering open one eye and watching you crawl up to him, knees near his body and hands brushing the long hair out of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” you coo, voice quiet because nine is still early.

Jeongguk groans, saying nothing. He shifts, ironing out the cramps in his limbs and sitting up, reaching a hand out for you, grabbing air like a child. Your gaze drops to the way his fingers roll expectantly and you slip your hand into his, taken aback when he tugs you over onto him, your legs over his hips as his arms steady around your waist.

Suddenly he’s very awake, moving your hair back and then kissing you, like he’s been starved of it. It begins gentle, timid, with his hands barely touching you as if he’s expecting you to move away and reject it. You don’t, however; when he pulls back you immediately move back in, twisting your arms around his neck, prompting him to follow by tightening his arms around your body, bringing you flush up against him, hips touching, sex throbbing. Jeongguk groans into your mouth, his hands guiding your body as you make shy movements, barely rolling up against him creating friction he wasn’t aware he needed so badly.

Jeongguk isn’t sure if what he’s doing is okay, and you don’t care. All that seems to matter is having you near him, as close as you can possibly be. Under your shirt, Jeongguk slides his hand up your back until it’s at the back of your neck, his left tight on your hip bone as the guider. He welcomes, no, encourages, your hips rocking against his slowly, teasingly, perfect momentum for the morning with the rain. It is both unnerving and exciting in how Jeongguk remains silent, save his occasional groans into your mouth. 

Once Jeongguk has grown bored of kissing your mouth, satisfied with all he’s done, his mouth departs and moves to your jaw, peppering a line of wet kisses from the underside to your neck. His hands spring away and move to hastily unbutton your shirt, unpopping one at a time as you whimper, feeling the hardness buried in Jeongguk’s jeans begging to be free.

Jeongguk breathes heavily, desperately pulling the buttons undone and undressing your shirt from your body. At first, he barely notices the fact that your bra is missing until the shirt is down to your elbows, sexily like a shawl, and his eyes land on your hardened nipples. Jeongguk half laughs, touching his thumbs on the underside of your breasts.

“Just like that,” he mutters, and you pout through a whimper that brings his eyes up to your own.

“Shut up, there was no way I was sleeping with it on,” you reply, and he hums, it makes sense. Jeongguk doesn’t blame you- why would he? He’s a guy, he likes tits; he likes your tits, smallish and round, big enough for him to hold and fit in his mouth, which he does.

Raising his eyebrows, Jeongguk smirks and brings his mouth to your right tit, his mouth around your nipple and you moan sweetly, your hand raking through his messy bed-curls. Like taking a toothless bite out of a whip of ice cream, Jeongguk’s lips pull around it, his eyes flickering up to observe your expressions- one glance and he immediately feels overwhelmed, a pressure on his crotch, discomfort, the need to be free. His hips stutter and he ruts up against you, two clothed crotches rubbing together, stolen gasps in the morning ambience. Finished with his hands on your tits, Jeongguk fully removes your shirt, balling it up and throwing it across the room, where it lands pathetically on one of the knobs of his drawers.

In one movement, Jeongguk secures his arms around you and hikes himself up onto his feet, squatting and turning so you should fall on your back. Following, he pushes you down into the mattress, your head half on the pillow and this time, his legs on your hips, not an overpowering weight but enough to keep you pinned down. You writhe, your back arching up off the mattress as Jeongguk’s mouth trails down from your face, where he leaves a starting kiss on your lips, down your neck and between your breasts, encouraging the roll of your hips with his hands. Muttered incoherence is all he can hear as he shimmies down, his tongue on your skin, teasingly licking a stripe up across your crotch covered by uncomfortable jeans.

Jimin, that fucker, he’d been right. Skinny jeans truly were the least practical outfit.

Jeongguk straddles himself up, planting his body over you like one would during sex. Humming against your lips, Jeongguk’s teeth pull at your bottom lip, his left hand gripping your leg and positioning it around his waist, your legs parted and his crotch directly hitting yours with every grind. Jeongguk gives nothing away- he stares, unwaveringly and deadpan directly into your eyes, grunting at the faces you pull, the whimpers leaving your lips, your rutting underneath him.

He buckles unexpectedly, pounding you deep into the mattress with a high pitched moan, captured by his mouth as he squeezes your flesh around his hand, holding you to him like letting you go would result in him losing you entirely. Jeongguk’s torn between wanting to cry and scream; in his short, sad, twenty one years of living, he’s not sure he’s ever felt as desperate for another person before. Never craved somebody the way he craves you, never needed somebody the way he needs you. Jeongguk stares into your eyes, opia. For fucks sake- he likes you so much, needs you so much-

“Jeongguk, you up?”

Freeze frame. Namjoon steps into the room, his eyes widening with surprise when he comes through the East and spots your shoes and bra by the door, shirt hanging off the cupboard, and Jeongguk on top of you with his lips on your neck, hands on your waist, leg around his middle and crotch up against his. Over Jeongguk’s bicep, you stare at him, your eyes blown open, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to stop, or even care. Even when you grip on his bicep to let him know you’re not alone, Jeongguk looks up from your neck and spots Namjoon. A soft exhale leaves his lips and he grunts, unbothered.

“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, biting down on your neck and revelling in the tug he receives in his hair when he does so. Still, Namjoon stands by the door in awe, unsure of what to do or say. Jeongguk pulls away, his face still stuffed in your neck, “you need something, Namjoon?”

“I,” Namjoon says, gathering his thoughts. He clears his throat. “Sejin called...He said he’s going to be round at about eleven ish, so I was, um, coming to see if you wanted breakfast, or…” As he speaks, Jeongguk is selfish, still grinding against you like Namjoon’s not even there. He’s listening though, his ear free to hear as he sucks his mouth on your skin, practising sex against your jeans.

Naturally, Namjoon’s gaze wanders to your breasts when Jeongguk picks himself up slightly, grabbing one with his palm and kissing patterns across your sternum. He gulps, uncomfortable.

“Be down in a minute,” Jeongguk says, shrugs, not really a promise. Namjoon nods, flushing as you moan unexpectedly, your traitor pussy having a mind of its own, controlling the way you think. Namjoon about makes out an arch on the grey comforter and catches your gaze, half-lidded, and he turns away, he’s seen enough.

“Take your time,” Namjoon squeaks out, unsure of whether the flush is for his head or his dick but he’s not sticking around to find out, and hurries out the door and back into the house. Jeongguk’s facade doesn’t fall until he knows for certain that Namjoon has left, which means he waits until the sound of laughter resonates downstairs, meaning Namjoon’s said his piece to the rest of the band likely gathered somewhere, waiting for him.

Planting one final kiss to your breast, Jeongguk groans and picks himself up onto his hands, his torso still over the lower half of your body and his gaze on your chest. It doesn’t move for a moment, staring in silence until he suddenly starts laughing to himself. The tangled mess of hair bounces with his shoulders and his head drops for a few moments, and then he peers up at you with a smile and you can’t contain your own bubbling laughter, scandalised.

“I know I’m a day late,” he breathes, “but.” Jeongguk smiles softly, “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

“Mmm. Thank you,” you preen. “Best birthday ever.”

This causes Jeongguk to guffaw, laughing under his breath. “Joon enjoyed it too.”

“You’re such a prick, you could have stopped,” you laugh to him, slamming his shoulders gently. Jeongguk grins, shuffling until his ass is on your stomach, straddling with his hands intertwined with yours.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because he could have. “Didn’t feel like it though. Plus, he said you were pretty once. ‘Mnot taking any chances with you.”

You gasp, astounded. “And what if I had thought he was pretty, too?”

“Then I’d cry,” Jeongguk replies simply, considering it a successful quip when you laugh sweetly, your cheek on your shoulder looking up at him like he was God’s angel. He blinks, like he’s processing the information, “thank you for staying. Look, if last night I was fucked up, it’s okay if you’re not cool with that. It can be a lot and I-”

“Jeongguk, I’ll always stay. If you need me, I’ll stay,” you tell him seriously. “I’m here for you, even when it’s difficult. I-” you pause, “I care about you.” It won’t be the last time Jeongguk feels like he has nothing to say to you, and honestly, it’s not the first time either.

Jeongguk looks down at you, his face devoid of a smile now that your words have settled in. When he realises what you’re saying, what that means for him.

“I’m sorry. I’m...a fucking shit show,” Jeongguk says quietly, and he barely moves when you instantly sit up, rising with your palms cupping his face, holding him gently and closely.

“Please don’t say sorry. I’m here, if you need me,” you say to him. “If you want me.”

“I do,” replies Jeongguk. He licks his lips, “of course I do.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest, and it would be easy to kick back, let him keep kissing, stay in the warmth of his bed covers. So suddenly, life feels like it can get better. So suddenly, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

(LOS ANGELES)

Things begin to change quite suddenly.

In the moment, you hardly realise how fast paced life is moving for you, too caught up in the moment, in the thrill of what has become of your life after the show at the Hollywood Palladium. For some reason, you didn’t expect to be an addition to Jeongguk’s life after the party, especially considering August Blue still had several other shows and cities to perform in, meaning the likelihood of seeing him decreased.

He had surprised you, though, by making a considerable effort to frequent DBOY whenever he could before he left for Jersey, alongside the rather spontaneous decision to take you for dinner after your shift, ending with a bang and a kiss and your mother peeking from behind a curtain inside the house when Jeongguk pulled up to drop you home instead of your own flat afterwards. 

As far as you knew, nothing with Jeongguk had especially changed; judging off the lingering smell of nicotine and alcohol when he turned up to get you, and pictures of dark lights and white tables on his private accounts, which only made it harder to say goodbye to him.

There had been a change in pace between Jeongguk and yourself, an establishment of feelings discussed over that afternoon dinner looking out at the ocean. It had been unexpected and impulsive, you still dressed in your lackluster University outfit and Jeongguk in attire that he put on when he woke up in the morning, but everything seemed to feel right.

It hadn’t been much, nothing but him setting the record straight that he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it- if you would have it, he’d like to be in your life. There was the bump in the road that was his status, his tours and his unspoken struggle with white lines and drunken nights that could be troublesome. Could turn you off, could make you not want him. You laughed at that like it was the funniest and simultaneously the stupidest thing he’d ever said, and maybe it was.

Across the room, Jimin kicks his feet up onto the coffee table despite countless efforts to get him to stop. Now that the late birthday weekend spent with your family had come to a happy end, you were once again welcomed in your shared flat with Jimin; it’s a measly apartment close to campus with an expensive empty third room that you both use as art storage. Next to him on the couch is the greasy pizza box, his fingers pulling a slice off the cardboard. You stand behind the couch, looking at the back of his head, and then look back at your phone. As always, there’s nothing, no notifications besides an Icloud storage backup failure. You sigh, having expected it.

Jimin looks up when the couch dips in weight as you sit next to him, moving the pizza box to his lap rather than your spot. He has the nerve to appear offended, still shoving a slice in his mouth.

“I’ve picked the movie,” he starts.

“Swear on God, if you’ve picked Orphan again, I’m going to beat your ass.”

“It’s the best horror movie to date, come on!” Jimin argues, making zero effort to change the movie once it’s already started. People who didn’t know Jimin would take a look at him and anticipate him to be an angel, questioning why you would ever be annoyed by such a cute face. This- this is why. 

Regardless, all you give Jimin is an eye-roll and decide to quietly accept the fact that your movie night has, once again, become an ode to Orphan. It’s not a problem- if a movie could define and represent a friendship, Orphan could summarize your relationship with Jimin.

The movie plays as far as Esther pushing her sister into the road when disturbance arises. Jimin is the first to stir, hearing the front door to your apartment crack open and a sheepish Yoongi steps inside, a bag of takeout in his left hand and keys in the right. He is, of course, late as always, and you expect he won’t hear the end of it by the time he’s wedged himself into the room; rightly so, Jimin interrogates him on being late as the front door closes, and right as the sound of arguing fills the room a blaring ring from your phone picks up.

It’s sad to admit that you pick up your phone in lightning speed, peering in the light as Jeongguk’s contact fills the screen. The way seeing his name light up on the screen feels like an urgent release, like finding treasure after searching for so long- you haul yourself up off the couch and head back towards the kitchen as the couple shuffle in. Glancing at them as they collapse in laughter to the couch, you smile and answer the call from Jeongguk that never stops ringing.

“Jeongguk,” you say, once you’ve picked up and heard nothing but murmured party ambience over the line. Something crackles, like the movement of clothes, and Jeongguk hums like he’s in a trance. “Can you hear me?”

“Hi baby,” his voice calls. He laughs, lucid, “Y/N, baby. Hi baby.”

“Hi,” you coo in reply. “Where are you, I can barely hear you…?”

“Party!” laughs Jeongguk. “Wrap up party. ‘so funny, you should come.”

A smile ignites. “I can’t, I’m not in that state. Are you having fun? What are you doing?”

For a moment, Jeongguk doesn’t reply. From the sounds of it, he seems otherwise occupied, for in the background the quiet sound of party laughter and glass clinking reminds you of where he is, what he’s doing, what he’ll end up doing. You swallow thickly.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk says after some time. “Kinda fun.” He waits one second and then says, “can’t hear you. I’m gonna go outside, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jeongguk moves outside, the party tucked behind as he leans against the brickwork of the rented bar used for the party. There’s a payphone on the wall, dripped in neon lights and he stands next to it, his body chilled by the night, leather on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, sniffing. That’s the indicator. Something inside of you sinks thinking about what he’s done, how sad it is that he does it to himself and nobody bats an eye.

You throw a glance back across the room; Jimin is settled in Yoongi’s lap, bringing soft laughter out of your cousin as the still frame of Orphan burns the television screen. “It’s movie night, so Jimin and Yoongi came over.”

“Mm yeah?” Jeongguk says. “Fun, sounds so fun, Yoongi said you lived with Jimin.”

“I do,” you reply gently. “When do you come home?”

“Saturday, maybe,” Jeongguk estimates. “Then I’m gonna come see you. Wanna take you out again, can we go out somewhere, I wanna go out.”

You laugh, tucking yourself into the kitchen when Yoongi and Jimin start laughing too loudly. “Course. Just let me know when, I’ll make room for you.”

For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything interesting. In fact, it’s mostly a string of incoherent and confusing sentences, his pout audible as he speaks and at least he’s not making bad decisions, half the reason you haven’t told him to go back to the party. Maybe you’re in it too deep, maybe you have no right being worried about him like that. If his band members didn’t seem to be too worried, and they’ve clearly known him longer, then why should you be so concerned?

“Called you for a reason, you know,” Jeongguk says, after a short breath of silence.

You raise your eyebrows and lean against the doorframe, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth after asking him why.

Jeongguk sniffs and then drops a deep exhale of breath. “Missed you.” Your heart thuds painfully. “Miss you, miss your voice. You should have come.”

“Maybe next time,” you offer. You’re unsure if telling him that you didn’t come because you don’t know what you are to him is wise at this exact moment, and so you decline to offer him a reason. Not that he asks. “I miss you too. I miss you coming to see me at work, made my day.”

Jeongguk laughs to himself. “I miss it. Coming home on Saturday, can I see you then?”

You pause to think. “Ah...it’s Yoojung’s birthday.” Yoojung is Yoongi’s sister, which Jeongguk remarkably remembers. He frowns, questioning. “There’s a party at her house, I’m obviously going because I’m family.”

“Yoo is a fan of the band, I think,” Jeongguk says. “Maybe I’ll ask Yoonie if I can come, surprise her or something. Wanna see you.”

“You can’t wait an extra day? I think I’m free all day on Sunday,” you offer, but Jeongguk declines.

“Nah. Greedy.”

He sniffs once, curtly and quickly, like inhaling sandpaper. You repress a sigh, not wanting to give away anything that might upset him, and you tuck further into the kitchen to escape the noise of the couple on the couch. It rises in volume, Jimin’s tone calling for you which Jeongguk can surely hear, but clearly cares little for.

“Fair enough,” you reply, smiling. “Are you going to go back in and party?”

For a second, Jeongguk says nothing. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongguk leans against the damp bricks with his chin tucked to his collarbones, gaze hazy and a smile on his lips. The air is cool enough to straighten his head, at least clear his vision from speckles to something clean.

“Just like talking to you,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I don’t know if I wanna party anymore.”

“Then don’t, baby, it’s okay,” you tell him, trying to avoid eavesdroppers in the living room. “Find Seokjin and leave for the night, hm? Have some rest and then we can see each other when you get back for Saturday, m’kay?”

Jeongguk says nothing, listening in the background to Yoongi and Jimin as they heckle you into living room to finish the movie. He wants to say something, more than anything he has words on his mind, sentences on the tip of his tongue; he doesn’t. His head isn’t clear enough for him to trust himself to speak. So, instead, he takes an inhale of the outside air and glances around at his surroundings, observing the moonlight on the lake nearby and the dark green ferns around the car park.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed,” he decides to say.

“That’s good. Just let me know when you’re home safe, okay?” you tell him, silencing the duo with a finger to your lips and the couple on the couch suppress giggles of amusement. To them it’s funny. “Okay?”

“Yep. I’ll text,” Jeongguk promises. From behind him, the door to the club opens and you can faintly hear a voice calling him. It’s out of your hands but you hope that it’s Seokjin, or another member of the band. “Miss you.”

You smile, “I miss you too. Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Saturday.”

Jeongguk hums. His voice is gone in the wind, too small to speak out.

(HIDDEN HILLS)

“And, you know, don’t get me wrong- I love parties as much as the next person, believe me, but if you can’t have an Iron Man balloon just because your parents are too damn lazy to go across town to Party City to get me one, then is it really a good party?”

Min Yoojung takes a sip from her glass and practically shrivels with distaste. For some or known reason, she had assumed that when you turned eighteen, life would dramatically change and you’d suddenly enjoy the taste of alcohol. Or, at least, that’s what UK TV shows had told her- mind you, she now knows that’s entirely inaccurate.

“I mean, think about it,” she continues with a huff. “Yoongi gets his own private club hired out for his birthday with the members of KISS playing on stage, and I can’t even get a balloon?”

Yoongi sits directly across from her on the patio sofas, a cigarette between his two fingers and a glass of red wine on the small table. He hides a smirk, feigning absolute disinterest as his sister speaks, waiting until she’s finished and looking between yourself and Jimin for some sort of explanation before he speaks.

“It’s because you’re adopted,” he replies smoothly, which only sets her off more.  

To some extent, what she is saying is not flawed. For Yoongi’s eighteenth birthday, he had gotten everything he wanted, things he brought up in passing wrapped up and gifted to him on the morn of March 9th. And, Yoojung is walking proof that the myth of the baby sibling being the favourite is simply not true. Granted, Yoongi’s only the favourite because he’s semi-famous, whereas Yoojung still attends public school and dines in three star restaurants with allowance money she may as well not have. That’s not to say that her birthday sucks; it doesn’t, because the Min’s have money and standards and this party in the backyard might make a headline in some Indie magazine online. Who knows.

It’s leisurely and small, with only few celebrities in attendance not including the Min’s and their relatives. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the life of stardom- unfortunately, being the step-daughter of Axel Choi therefore meant having a camera in your face once or twice. Even though Axel was no relative of yours, and by no means did he ever have the audacity to assume he could fill the role of your Dad: Axel was an okay guy, protective of his family and by extension, protective of you. You didn’t mind, just one less camera to hide from, one less ugly photograph uploaded online for a bit of money. 

That being said, Axel pulled a few strings and got a few A-Listers to show up, including a KPOP group that Yoojung had liked when she felt like an alien in her own country. Amongst those are some of Yoojung’s friends, who fear sitting near Yoongi because he’s the hot older brother type, and fearful of you who they don’t know, which isn’t any less scary from them knowing you.

“You haven’t done the cake yet, right?”

From behind Yoongi, out comes Wheein, one of his old friends from University. She carefully climbs over the seat to sit next to Jimin, mindful of her glass that sloshes and Yoojung sighs, pressing her chin into the heel of her hand.

“Nope. Yoongi says people haven’t turned up yet, so I don’t know what’s up with that,” Yoojung shrugs. “Honestly-” now she rises slightly, her back straight and finger pointed accusingly, “you fucking planned my whole party. Is this the Yoongi and Co show, or what?”

“Yes,” Yoongi replies, as though it were obvious. He drinks. “Stop complaining and wait, it’ll be worth it.”

Yoojung scoffs, “Yeah right. If Tony Stark doesn’t come to this house dressed in his suit making that suity noise, then consider this birthday over.”

Yoongi pauses. “Okay then, I guess I’ll start sending people back home, because you can’t even get an Iron Man balloon, what makes you think he’s gonna pop round in person?”

Yoojung shrugs, “Poetic cinema?”

“Keep dreaming, cabbage patch baby.”

“Cabbage patch baby?” Jimin laughs. That’s when Yoongi ignores Yoojung’s frustrated groans and launches into an explanation behind the name, which involves Yoongi telling Yoojung when she was little that their Mom found her in a cabbage patch. You’ve heard it before, so you’re not listening when it’s explained. Your gaze instead lifts across the patio, awkwardly catching your mother’s as she looks around for you. 

Her eyes light up when she spots you and immediately she waves you over, not taking no for an answer as those round holes turn into slits faster than you can even mouth the syllable “n”. While Yoongi dives deeper into Yoojung’s misery, you pick yourself up with a sigh and head on over towards your mother.

She stands next to Axel, as well as Yoongi’s parents, and two celebrities you vaguely remember for being present at Yoongi’s birthday many moons ago. You fake a smile, wanting to be polite, wanting it to be over. It seems your arrival had been pre-planned and expected, for your aunt turns to you with wide eyes and brings you by the elbow.

“Y/N. We were just talking about you- you know Maxine, don’t you?”

No. You regard the stranger, subtly looking them up and down and smiling tightly. “Of course! It’s so nice to see you.”

“We were just talking about the arts- classical, of course, because we all know how you turn up your nose at the modern artists of today,” your Aunt says.

“Well, I do like modern art, I just find classicals more interesting to study. More composition, colour, texture...more empathy.”

“Whatever,” your Aunt interrupts. “Maxine has a son who works in the Louvre. He’s looking for junior guides, people to talk arty to visitors and make everything sound nice.”

Maxine smiles to intervene. “Actually, he’s not high enough in the business to request people, but I do know that he’s got an eye for women who like the arts. Miyoung told me that you study it at University level.”

You nod, bored. “Yes, I do. I’m not sure I want to move to Paris for a job, though...so…”

“Oh, no,” Maxine laughs. As she does this, one of Yoongi’s other friends, Jaehyung, creeps up behind you and quietly says hello to your mother and to Axel, half listening when Maxine says, “Duke is actually on pursuit for somebody who can match his artistic background.”

This, of course, makes Jaehyung laugh suddenly. He takes a slice of cake off a nearby tray and takes a bite, moving to walk away as he says, “Y/N doesn’t need help in the dating department, I don’t think.”

You glare at him.

“What does that mean?” your mother asks. “Do you have somebody?”

“No, Mom. Nobody.”

“Sure she does,” Jaehyung winks. “Was all over Instagram.”

“That’s a lie,” you gape.

“Is it?” he shrugs. Is it?

Aunt Miyoung gasps like she’s heard an offensive secret, touching her collarbone as she looks between Jaehyung and yourself. Jaehyung grins, saying nothing and running back to Yoongi before you can slander him. You’re in for it now.

“The boy that dropped you home?” your mother presses.

“You knew about this?” Miyoung asks. “Maxine, I am deeply sorry- I feel foolish.”

“I-Yes,” you tell her finally. Jeongguk, the man in question, might not be what everybody now thinks he is, might not even be what you think he is. “It hasn’t been long, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“And he’s famous?” Axel asks.

You look at him. “Yeah. I guess. You wouldn’t believe he was, but he is.”

Axel raises his eyebrows, by now not in the least surprised by the bitterness in your tone that has been there since your mother first introduced him. He’d probably be more surprised if you didn’t talk to him like that. Regardless, Axel takes it with acquiesce, glancing at your mother for some sort of guidance that she can’t and won’t give to him. It is in this moment that the back gate that leads to a leaky trail next to the spacious garage and past Holly’s doghouse opens, like arms inviting a hug.

The gate needs oiling, screeching to gain attention as it opens and in steps pairs of booted feet. The selection of pauses, gasps and an excited murmur from Yoojung’s friendship group out over by the poolside paints the picture for you, and you don’t feel the need to turn around. Noise alone confirms that the person who opened the gate is the same man in topic of conversation, his eyes dancing around the yard until they land on Yoongi’s father, acknowledgingly and then finally onto Yoojung, who he happens to notice quickly than he does the back of your head.

“Speak of the devil,” your mother starts, recognising him.

Axel hesitates visibly and audibly. “That man. That’s him?”

You purse your lips, taking a peek over your shoulder at Jeongguk. He speaks for himself; his muscles cling underneath a white tee and leather jacket that feels overdressed, paired with faded black jeans decorated with gashes and two zips. Axel only frowns because he’s not dressed like a prep, or a future Doctor like he would have liked for you, hypocrisy. Not even dressed ‘normal’ like boys he sees on the covers of magazines belonging to your step-sister, his own blood, his actual daughter. Jeongguk is dressed for attention, his gaze high over his glasses that you’re unaware he owned.

“It might be,” you reply quietly, and it’s telling enough that Axel sighs, folding his arms.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Miyoung says quickly. “You should have just told us it was Jeongguk.”

“You know him?” asks Axel.

Miyoung nods, sipping her wine. “Sure. He’s been friends with Yoongi for a few years now- we actually cleared him to visit for Yoo’s birthday.” Finally she acknowledges you: “Handsome boy, Y/N. How did you find him? Yoongi?”

“More like he found me,” you muse. “I tried to remain professional, but he kept coming back to visit me at work.”

“Romantic,” your mother sighs honestly.

Yoongi’s father laughs. “Jeongguk has a type.”

You stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “The last time he had a girl on his arm he bed her and got rid of her. Funny, actually, you two had the same hair.”

“Hair isn’t a type,” Miyoung snaps.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, shrugging again. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey.”

“So, he’s a player?” Axel grunts.

���No,” you defend quickly. “No. Well- yes, he was. People change when they’ve found the right person to change for.”

Axel chuckles wryly. “And you think you’re the one to change him?”

“Not change him, but I’ll be there for him whenever he needs me,” you nod. “I trust him.”

“I can feel my ears burning.”

Jeongguk’s voice creeps over your shoulder before you can even notice that he has made his way over towards you; the feeling of his chin rested just above your ear makes your body pause and he wraps one arm around you, observing everybody in the huddle. The Min’s consider Jeongguk secondary family, welcoming him with a smile that Axel doesn’t reciprocate, not that Jeongguk gives a shit. For Jeongguk, this is monumentous, the time for him to prove himself to the guy who didn’t believe in him.

Actually, he’s surprised to find that the feeling of worship he felt for Axel as a teenager is still there, now that he’s standing right in front of him. It’s strange, subdued and numbing, but still there and pressing. Jeongguk tries to look anywhere but at Axel, but he can’t help it. Axel doesn’t even remember him, and has the audacity to stare at Jeongguk like it’s his first time, first impression of the guy dating one of his daughters.

Jeongguk pauses his thoughts and thinks back to you- are you dating? Wouldn’t hurt to lie, just to piss of Axel even more. Jeongguk wasn’t an exceptionally smart guy but he wasn’t stupid; it was evident that Axel didn’t like him, obvious from the ugly grimace on his face. He doesn’t care- Jeongguk relishes in his dislike. That gives him power, now.

“Jeongguk,” says Miyoung, smiling wide.

Beside her, your Uncle sips his drink, silent and occasionally glancing between Jeongguk and Axel. Maybe everybody disliked Axel, Jeongguk thinks to himself, as he stares at the pulled crease between your Uncle’s eyebrows. He knows vaguely that you’re related to the Min’s through your mother, and that they, unlike your mother, never got over the death of your Dad. Maybe they too can’t stand the sight of Axel, bragging and sour-faced, acting like a member of the family when in reality, all he is is an imposter, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing, awkward and looking misplaced.

Jeongguk smiles back at Miyoung. “Hi, it’s good to see you. Thanks for having me.”

“Our pleasure,” Miyoung replies. “You’re a punk, y’know- dating our Y/N. None of us had any clue! Why hide such a beauty?”

Jeongguk grins. His arm wrapped around you tightens gently. “Sorry. We didn’t want to rush into making anything public…” He trails off, looking at you. “Get nervous and tell people?”

“Actually, you have Jaehyung to thank for that,” your mother pipes up with a sigh. For the first time, Jeongguk looks at her entirely. She looks nothing like you, too done up with surgery and makeup for him to see a resemblance. Maybe you looked like her before, maybe you favoured your Dad. “I’m Jennifer, Jenny, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Jeongguk smiles constantly, accepting her tight hug as she welcomes him. “Jeongguk.”

“Y/N doesn’t talk about you,” she says.

“In fairness, I don’t talk about anything,” you add, but she’s not listening. Jeongguk is, though, and his heart tugs. He’s got the situation kind of figured out.

“I don’t blame her,” Jeongguk replies smoothly. “We weren’t sure it was time to make things official- it’s new.”

“And it’s serious?” Axel asks, speaking for the first time.

Jeongguk watches him. “Yes, sir.”

Axel bristles. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Axel, I’m Y/N’s father.”

“Step father,” you cut in.

“Father,” he repeats. Axel extends a hand outwards for Jeongguk to shake. Even though he hesitates, Jeongguk accepts, firmly shaking it. It’s a good handshake, Axel ought to be impressed. What doesn’t sit right is Axel calling himself your father- something he’s never been given the right to say.

“We actually have met before,” Jeongguk says, and around his arm he feels you tighten, briefly glancing up at him.

All eyes in the huddle are on Axel, including the long forgotten Maxine who watches quietly. “Did we? I don’t remember you.”

“Well, it was a long time ago,” Jeongguk explains with a flat tone. “We were in Busan. You came into my work and bought some cigarettes, I had your opinion on some of my work.”

While Axel thinks about it, your mother gasps happily, clueless and embracing her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Honey, it’s great that you helped this young man.”

Unknowingly, the Min’s writhe on their spots. They know this story. They know the truth- maybe that’s why they dislike Axel the way everybody else does.

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk continues, with the same flat tone that makes you shudder. “Yeah. You told me our music was shit and that I’d never make it in the business because I was a Korean boy from Busan with dreams I couldn’t reach. You told me we’d never succeed and that we’d be stuck in Busan flipping burgers and working night shifts at 7-11, and that the only way I’d succeed was if I was American. Dunno if you remember that, but I did.”

Nobody says anything. Not even Axel, who stares coldly.

“Well, we made it,” Jeongguk laughs quietly. “I took your advice and it really helped motivate me to prove you wrong. We’re number one on Billboard and we’re making history as the first all Korean band to top the charts and headline The Governors Ball next year. Not bad for a basement boy from Busan, right?”

Your mother gulps. “That’s really wonderful, Jeongguk, you should be really proud.”

Jeongguk pities her. “Thank-you. We worked hard for it. Now we’re here.”

“And I suppose it will do Y/N some good, being with somebody so successful.” For the first time since Jeongguk’s arrival, Maxine speaks up. She cradles her champagne glass tenderly and examines Jeongguk with her slinted fox-like eyes, as if nursing a different agenda.

“Thank you,” repeats Jeongguk. He tightens his arm around you, obviously enough to create a statement. While it’s mostly to prove to everybody- and himself- that you and him are an item, it’s also to rub extra salt into Axel’s wounds, his face like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Y/N helps keep me driven a lot. I owe her so much already, I’ll make her happy and do her proud. Thanks to Y/N, I don’t think I could be here. I’m here because she suggested it, actually, for Yoojungie.”

“And a good job, too,” Miyoung finally says, trying to avert the tensions. “Else Yoojung would be miserable at her own birthday party.” And everyone laughs, apart from Axel, not that anybody cares. “Jeongguk, shall we start the music up?”

Jeongguk nods. “I’d love to. Thanks, Mom.”

She smiles, walking away to prep. Feeling Axel’s stare cold on your skin, you gently push yourself into Jeongguk, until he’s walking backwards towards the selection of trees where you turn in his arms, looking up at him. Jeongguk smiles honestly for the first time, his heart thumping.

“Hi,” he says gently.

“Well, you know how to make an entrance,” you note thoughtfully. Jeongguk’s eyes rake your own, wordless. “Be careful how you act around Axel. He’s strangely protective.”

“I thought he wasn’t family.”

You frown. “He’s not. But he’s still… you know. Part of the family.”

Jeongguk says nothing at first. “I get it. I do,” he assures with a nod. The next moment, he has his hands on your upper-arms, smoothing. “It’s good to see you, by the way. You look beautiful.”

A smile crosses your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Missed you.”

“I missed you too, we just got off the plane this morning,” Jeongguk explains. Took a nap on the way home and then got dressed and we came straight here.” He pauses playfully: “Do I look okay?”

You laugh girlishly, catching his elbows with your fingers. “You look great. Who knew you wore glasses?”

Jeongguk grins. “They’re fake, I’m a fraud.”

“Of course,” you joke. “Like all rockstars.”

“Hey, don’t bring in my fellow rockers!” Jeongguk laughs too, an unusual sound. “As much as I wanna stand around and stare at you, I need to go and say hi to Yoojung and perform and stuff. It’s kinda why I’m here…”

“LOL,” you say. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Guk. Go, I’ll survive.”

“Okay,” he resists. “But I’ll come back later, yeah? Can’t ignore my girlfriend.” Jeongguk raises his eyebrows mischievously and then, rustles in his pocket whilst speaking, “Oh, wait. Happy-” he checks the time and shows his phone screen to you as he steps backwards, “-ten minute anniversary, babe.”

As Jeongguk steps away, dragging his fingertips along your palms as he steps backwards towards the curved pathway around the pool, a warm feeling simmers in your stomach. Maybe it’s the sunlight shining gold across his skin or the way his smile finally reaches his nostrils, extending wide, his eyes folded into moons- but something about the whole ordeal seems safe, seems gorgeous and heavenly, at the same time domestic. He winks, turns and heads towards the rest of August Blue sheltered around Yoojung and Yoongi, and you’re left with the imprinted image of Jeongguk’s smile on the spot of grass he just stood on, burning, refusing to leave.

[23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: so i don’t think ur family like me…. [23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: am i out of the picture now?

The sound of your phone fills the room and pulls you out of the bathroom, which connects to your family bedroom back in the house your family live at currently. Yoojung’s party had ended hours earlier, the grand finale with Jeongguk helping bring out her cake, fireworks on the evening, a hand on your waist.

Rubbing at your wet hair, you sit on the bed and reach for your phone, glossing over the messages, smiling.

[23:40PM] You: hey now [23:40PM] You: i don’t think my family like me either [23:41PM] Jeongguk❣️: wanna run away and be my family? [23:42PM] Y/N: where are we running to? [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: idk yet [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: somewhere nice [23:43PM] Jeongguk❣️: far away [23:43] You: omg yes [23:44PM] You: kinda wanting to go to hawaii...what are your thoughts on hawaii, gukkie? [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: hawaii on a first date? imagine that….. [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: u DO dream big [23:45PM] You: i tried [23:46PM] Jeongguk❣️: it’s not exactly hawaii [23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: but how about a late night rendezvous at olive garden

(At the same time…)

[23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: omg … as if i just spelt that word right [23:47PM] You: autocorrect, u cant fool me [23:47PM] You: and omg sure…..,,,,,, [23:48PM] You: something tells me ur already here and thats why you’re asking

(A honk outside your window.)

[23:49PM] Jeongguk❣️: 🤪 [23:49PM] You: my hairs wet 🥺 [23:50PM] Jeongguk❣️: i’ll roll down the windows?

(A sigh.)

[23:50PM] You: pls give me five minutes

Jeongguk had been parked up outside, his car hidden half in the shadows by a flickering streetlight, inconspicuous and with the inside lights on. It had taken all but three minutes to find his car, and another three for you to warm up to talking to him inside the car. Slipping into the passenger seat with the sound of Magnetic Moon on the AUX and the shining smile from Jeongguk had been nerve-wracking, perhaps nerve-wracking is even an understatement. Nonetheless, the song had rolled to an end and just before Tiffany could transition into the smooth vocals of Lana, Jeongguk said his first few words beyond “hi”.

Olive Garden was a few miles away from your neighbourhood- small and pushed to the side with a selection of palm trees scattered outside, like a postcard for Malibu. Like most, if not all American’s, you’ve been here before, already have a go-to on the menu. Jeongguk drives into a parking bay near the shrubs and opens the doors for you, pulls out chairs, goes the extra mile ordering wine in advance in a private section of the restaurant that you didn’t know existed. You’ve only ever been here with Yoongi and Yoojung, two celebrities who sometimes have the luxury of leaving the house and not getting immediately noticed.

“What do you wanna do after?”

Jeongguk, halfway through cutting his sirloin steak, glances up with an honestly surprised expression. “You still want to hang out after?”

You shrug, taking a sip of the wine. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because our first date since I got back from tour is at fucking Olive Garden,” Jeongguk states.

“I like Olive Garden…” you mumble, which he hears.

After swallowing a large mouthful, he sends it down with a gulp of wine. “Well, I’m not gonna complain. Shall we go for a drive? You ever been to the beach at night?”

“I live in LA, who hasn’t been to the beach at night?”

“Okay, true,” he replies. “I used to do it all the time in Busan, too. Lived right across the road, could see the sands from my front porch.”

Once dinner is over, and once Jeongguk has quite finished coercing you into sharing an ice-cream sundae with him, Jeongguk takes you up on the invitation to drive to the beach, the night sky like looking into the eyeball of a stuffed animal, the stars like specks of dust on an Afterlight edit. The boulevard is lit up by circular bulbs, tiny attractions for moths, bright like close up stars. Jeongguk drives smoothly, the window slightly down and occasionally his eyes glanced over at you; your hair is messed in the wind, the sound of Kim Petra on the AUX sending your body into little bops, something Jeongguk wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“So much for letting my hair dry.”

Jeongguk laughs from the back of the car, closing the boot and bringing out some spare towels to hand over to you. They’re yellow, like fresh little buttercups, and slightly wrinkled, smelling like faint juice and sea-salt. Regardless, you take the towel off him and begin to quickly rub it against your hair, once again trying to even out the wetness, less than the shower back home, enough to still drip on your arms and legs.

“You splashed me first,” Jeongguk replies, standing outside the door whereas you sit with your legs hanging out, sideways on the backseat. Behind him is the beach, dark and the sound of the ocean lapping like television static, the faint sound of the amusement arcade down the prom. His body is wet too, the ankles of his jeans clinging to his skin with ocean water.

You turn your head to him, smiling. “Guilty.” When he laughs, you continue to speak and bring the towel back down to your lap, “Okay, it’s what they all do in the movies. What else are you supposed to do on a beach at like...midnight. Wait, what time is it?”

“I dunno, like, three?” he guesses.

“No way.”

“Feels like three. Check the front.”

You lean over to check. “It’s definitely not three.”

Jeongguk shrugs boyishly, that same grin creating dimples near his chin. “Not far off. It was a guess.”

“Good for a guess,” you assure. Jeongguk wrangles the towel from your hands politely, wringing it out and throwing it back into the boot. Your hair can dry again in the wind when Jeongguk drives away, the same way it did when he picked you up. He has this theory on his mind as he walks back around to the open door, although the words leave him when he returns, having found that he has nothing at all to say now it’s come down to it.

Jeongguk moves back in, his body shoved between your legs slightly as he moves closer. You gaze up at him, the light behind him making his body glow dark, sighs like whispers in the quiet ambience.

“I really had a lot of fun tonight,” Jeongguk says, like it’s a secret. “Even though this morning your family almost had a heart attack discovering that we were, well, whatever we are...I still had fun.”

You hum in agreement, watching his face as it moves into the light. “Yoojung had the best time. I haven’t seen her that happy since she met Paul Rudd at Disneyland, and that’s seriously impressive.”

Jeongguk laughs quietly. “Paul Rudd.” He almost can’t believe that.

“As for us,” you continue, stress on the ‘us’ which brings Jeongguk’s attention full circle and back entirely onto you in the backseat of his ride, “well...what are we?”

For a few moments, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. “I have the fantasy and the reality.”

You nod, encouraging, and so he continues. “The fantasy is that we give it a go. We try it, really try. Y/N, with every small inch of my delicate, precious body-” (giggles are delivered by you as he speaks)- “I absolutely adore you. And I never knew I could feel like how I feel with you. I only ever wanted the sex, and even then, I didn’t want it that badly, and then you wandered into my life and everything feels so...so...I don’t even know a word. I just know it feels amazing when I’m with you- I feel amazing. And, of course, the reality is that we’re two sad early twenties rich kids who are pining and don’t know what to do about it.”

And it’s true, it’s so true. The sad reality of it all was that unless either one of you stepped up first, this dynamic of uncertainty would continue on as the norm. Where you were too shy to be bold and make a move, Jeongguk felt too insecure to step up.

“Well, then…” you start, chewing the inside of your cheek, thinking. “How about we try making the fantasy our reality?”

Nothing.

Jeongguk blinks and cocks his head in bewilderment. “Really?” You nod. “You want to?”

“If I didn’t want to, why the hell would I leave my house with wet hair to go eat at Olive Garden and lovingly stroll on a beach at midnight?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, so it was loving?”

“I was definitely feeling some kind of way,” you confirm.

At long last, Jeongguk smiles wide, shuffling closer. His hands wrap around your face gently, like holding a delicate bird in two palms, and his fingers brush against your ears, tickling the skin, nails fingering your hair.

“That’s good to hear,” he replies, “Great, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Now, Jeongguk hums, his trademark reply for when his eyes are too lost for words to be conjured up to describe how he feels about what he sees. He is, what one might recall to be as “lost for words”. His teeth clip at his bottom lip as he questions what he’ll do next, and for a brief moment you catch his tongue darting out in nervousness as he leans closer, smell of mint on his breath as his lips touch yours, and the heavens open.

Metaphorically and literally, so. As Jeongguk brings you closer to him, his lips still pressed on yours, his heart elevates into subspace, his body light and euphoric. At the same time, the sky grumbles, hungry, and it begins to pour, tiny droplets on the roof of the car and on Jeongguk’s back. He winces, doesn’t pull away, and quickly separates himself from you to squint at the sky.

He sees nothing, because it’s way too dark, but he feels it. Sighing briefly, Jeongguk turns back to you and nods his head upwards, miming for you to shuffle backwards into the car. A rush of something hot creeps down the middle of your body as you do so, feeling Jeongguk’s hand on your calf as he climbs in after you, his ankle caught on the door bringing it to a close, but not fully. The red alarm light is bright and begging for attention but Jeongguk pays it no mind.

Instead, he crawls back to you, eager to pick up what he left. It’s welcomed, warm and inviting, as Jeongguk holds you back closer to him and returns the kiss, hot and open mouthed. Something clicks inside of you, a moment of realisation as Jeongguk sets himself over you, his thighs like a cage and his hair tickling your eyebrows. When this feeling simmers, you grin, something Jeongguk is only mildly surprised about. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t really need to.

In fact, Jeongguk doesn’t really say anything at all; he doesn’t need to, and he actually can’t, given the volume of the rain now it comes down heavier. It’s so loud, almost deafening, which you almost thank out loud for. The rain at least covers up your breathy moans as Jeongguk’s hands wander, pulling at the bottom of your dress and fisting it into a ball, the fabric rising higher.

When Jeongguk finally pulls himself away, it is selfish. He pulls back and sits down, in the middle seat so there’s a window view from every angle, his feet in either footwell. Jeongguk shakes his head and hair out of the way, his hands making their way back to you to bring you up and over into his lap. This time, Jeongguk accepts a kiss from you, his cheeks cupped almost by your hands which gives his hands free reign to smooth across your body, swiftly lifting the bottom half of your dress up, wrapping it like a belt across your hips. If the rain were silent, he’d like to have heard you, heard the way you whimper as the bulk in Jeongguk’s jogging bottoms brushes against your pussy, the fabric of your underwear making it hypersensitive and ten times more exciting.

Jeongguk’s lips widen, his mouth open and inviting for you, accepting tongue when you bring your lips back to his after a short break. His eyes flutter and roll backwards, the tickle of your breath through your nose on his skin as he holds you closer, as if you can get any closer than what you already are. Then, when you quite suddenly bite down onto Jeongguk’s tongue and lips, he groans, pleasured, his hands moving beneath your skirt to grab your ass, lifting you up and down on his very attentive boner.

If Jeongguk or yourself ever thought that the first time you’d have sex would be near the public beach in the back of his car in the middle of a very thunderous rainstorm, you might have laughed, or said there would be more to it. In actual fact, it’s just how it is- Jeongguk shimmies himself out of his bottoms soon enough, reaching into the back side of the car to pull out a condom, since he always has some in case of emergencies, like most guys do. He’d like to not use one, but he knows it’s not safe- he doesn’t know if he’s got something, or if you’ve got something. Either way, he rolls it onto his dick in a record speed and sinks you down onto him all within the same ten seconds, and, yeah- it’s not what he expected to happen, it’s not what anybody expects to happen, but it feels right, feels great. When he’s fucking somebody as good and as lovely as you, he’s not allowed to be picky on the location.

He can’t allow himself to be picky- he knows that he’s wanted you ever since he saw you swirling to Dancer in the Dark, he knows that things are meant to be how they play out. Actually, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the risk of someone seeing, likes the way the windows fog up and how the car rocks slightly, obvious to people outside. Jeongguk relishes in that excitement, crossed with the pleasure and arousal coursing through his body when his attention is pulled out of hit thoughts and back onto you. The rain quietens down and he hears you, feels his hands grip tighter around you and his guided pace quicken, all with a breathy high tone in his ear, occasional breaches of rain and roars of thunder, an orchestral accompanying each of you through the sex, until gushing sounds of rain are what he hears when he sees white in his eyes and over his dick, a melting handprint in the condensation on the window.

[02:34AM] You: def just heard something on my balcony so if i die, pls tell yoongi that it was ME who lost his left airpod and it was also me who stole his signed Nirvana album it’s on my shelf im sorry [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: um  [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: wtf….. [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: u really just gonna die and not leave anything for me???? [02:36AM] You: SSKSSKKSKSKSK [02:36AM] You: u can have my bank account details + contents [02:36AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: !!!!!!!! [02:37AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: omg rip y/n <3 u will be missed omg…..omg cant believe ur dead

All jokes aside, you stare for a long time at your balcony doors, going insane at the sight of nothing at all through the glass and your curtains, slightly see-through to allow the sun in the mornings.

The night burns on your eyes, flashing swirls of colour taking over as you stare for too long at seemingly nothing at all. Quite possibly, it is the wind, or an animal that has climbed onto the balcony from out of one of the trees. It’s happened before- one time, a family of raccoons migrated onto your balcony during the September months of last year, and stayed there for so long that you forgot your balcony had doors. Those same doors are locked, like they always are on a nighttime, but the bedroom window remains open, slightly pushed out to allow in a breeze to circulate the room.

Knowing that it’s probably nothing, you settle back down into bed, drifting back into sleep remarkably fast for somebody previously quite concerned with being killed. This fact is startling- not just to you, but also to Jeongguk, who cocks a leg over your balcony rail and then through your window. What also shocks him was how easy it was to do all of this, now that he’s standing in your bedroom with nothing to say given the fact that you’ve fallen back to sleep.

Jeongguk sighs softly. It’s been about a week and a half since the beach, and the car, and the rain and the first time, but it feels like it’s been months. Jeongguk had to leave for a few days, three at the most, to film some puppy interview for Buzzfeed and continue other solo interviews while the rest of the band settled for a break in their LA residence. Every moment away felt like agony, so painful that Jeongguk found himself back outside your house, surprises stored in emails on his phone.

He steps quietly over towards your bed, wincing when his weight on top of the comforter causes a loud rustle and squeak. Still, you don’t wake, not until Jeongguk lays himself over you with his hands near your shoulders, his voice quiet and murmuring your name, hair tickling your face, lips on skin.

“Wha-Jeongguk?” you ask quietly, your voice groggy. “How’d you get in here…?”

“I think you need security, urgently,” Jeongguk replies quietly. When you roll over onto your back, he smiles gently and wraps hair from out of your face around your ear. “And you need to start locking your windows. You make a robbery look very easy.”

You sigh. “Oh. I thought it was okay.”

“Just be glad your intruder is me and not somebody else,” he says caringly. “Sorry I woke you.”

“No,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “I was awake...and then I closed my eyes for a bit. Hey, was that you out on the balcony?”

Jeongguk grins. “Knew you saw me.”

“I didn’t. Well, I did, but I thought I was being overly paranoid,” you tell him. You yawn away from him, “What time is it, babe?”

Jeongguk purposefully ignores the feeling in his chest. “It’s two fourty.”

You groan. “Are you stopping the night? Get in, I’m tired.”

Jeongguk brings himself down to kiss you once. “No. No, no, you can’t sleep right now. I wanna go out.”

“Now?” you ask, aghast.

“Yeah. Let’s go somewhere.”

“At like three-am?”

“Yeah, sorry, it was the only time I could get it. I wanna take you somewhere special.”

Once Jeongguk is finished speaking, you open your eyes wider and observe him. It’s only then that you notice his clothing; over his upper body, he wears a large oversized grey hoodie, slightly worn out and wrinkled with the drawstring missing, and as always, dark jeans that blend in with the night. A frown worms its way onto your face, your expression unreadable to Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Get it? Get what, babe?” you mutter.

Jeongguk hums, like shrugging.

“Where are we going?” you ask, starting to sit up which forces Jeongguk to roll over on the bed, until his feet swing over the side and hit the floor. He wants to stay quiet for the sake of yourself, considering he’s not looking forward to accidentally waking up your family. You’ve been staying at your parents' place for the entire week, abusing reading week for sleeping in, going out for something to eat, and returning home to watch Glee rather than finish your art assignments. Naturally, Jeongguk doesn’t want the whole family to reject him just because he woke them up at three in the morning to collect you from your room.

“Hm,” Jeongguk starts, straining to hear if anything outside your bedroom catches his ear. He faintly hears the sound of claws across the wood, remembering you once mentioning that your family had a dog. “How about we go to Paris?”

You whip around to look at him, making out his silhouette in the dark. “Paris? Are you fucking with me?”

“Why, what’s wrong with Paris?”

“There is nothing wrong with Paris,” you affirm, gasping. “I just...really? Paris?”

“Yeah. Thought we could stop by The Louvre to see that dude Maxine tried to set you up with.”

You snort quietly, moving to turn on a lamp which brightens the room into shades of orange. “How did you even know about that?”

“I hear things,” he says, shrugging. Jeongguk then shakes his head and looks back at you, making his way to the bottom of the bed. “No. I just really wanna take you out somewhere special.”

“The beach was special to me,” you tell him.

Jeongguk smiles, “Me, too. But...Paris.”

Laughter bubbles at the back of your throat. “Okay. Let’s go to Paris. Why not?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, laughing also, “why not? Need help packing anything? You won’t need a lot, I can take you out when we get there.”

You pull a face, looking back at Jeongguk. “Wow...our first vacation together and you’re already going to spoil me?”

Jeongguk grins widely, “Well, on our first date I humped you, so I guess we’re pretty unconventional.”

You have nothing to say in reply to that.

(PARIS)

One thing you never thought you’d get the chance to do is take a trip on a private jet, holding up the scheduled flight times of other aircraft at the airport. That changes the second that Jeongguk pulls up outside of LAX, his hand carefully and tightly clamped around your own as he escorts you whilst also being escorted by his own small handful of security right into the large building. Thankfully for him, the airport is empty, occupied by sleeping flyers who wait on hard, metal chairs, the tinny sound of music playing at volume three.

His jet is small, yet luxurious; it’s everything out of a movie set, decorated in mocha creams and whites, clinking glasses of champagne waiting to be swallowed. His pilot knows him by name, and there’s a handpicked air hostess who looks bored and old, her lock screen a picture of her children. Jeongguk smiles at her, even addresses her by name and introduces you with a chirpy tone. The lady looks surprised, covering it up with a tight smile of nervousness. Maybe you’re the only girl Jeongguk’s ever brought on the plane before. Maybe you’re another girl he’s brought on the plane, you don’t know for sure.

After take off, Jeongguk spins in his recliner seat and drums his fingers in his lap. You sit opposite, looking meek, your gaze out the window at the dark clouds and sky. As you continue to fly, the sky opens up, into ombre colours that fascinate. One is looking at the beauty of nature and the other is looking at the beauty of a woman. Neither says a word.

When the plane reaches touch down, the airport is quite bustling and energetic, thankfully again no fans who caught an air of mystery from Jeongguk’s suspicious tweets at one in the morning, when he spontaneously booked tickets without even getting the green flag. Money to waste, risks to take, is what he’d say. Jeongguk helps you carry your small bag to the hired vehicle, an inconspicuous black car with black-out windows. He’s half expecting the vehicle to give him away, but nobody present actually gives a fuck about who is in the car and who isn’t. So, he climbs in without being noticed, his hand in yours, right up until the doors close and you’re hotel bound.

“Fuck, jet-lag.”

Jeongguk dives onto the bed, his back on the duvet and nose tipped up to the ceiling. Presently, you’ve been in Paris for a few hours, staring at the roads below with tired and sleepy eyes, heavy shoulders, a day indoors. Jeongguk’s been to Paris before, quite a few times actually - you haven’t, seeing the city in glimpses outside your balcony. To his right, the bathroom light clicks off and you shuffle out, a towel wrapped around your body as you cross the width of the room.

“Right?” you agree with a small frown. You crouch to pick up a fallen jacket off the back of the chair, tucked underneath the white vanity. “I almost fell asleep in the shower.”

“Yeah? You tired?”

“Exhausted,” you say honestly. “Once I’m dry, I think I might head to bed.”

Jeongguk hums in reply, maybe agreement. He lets you do what you need to do; of course, he takes a peek, because he’s a boy and he can’t help himself. You’re dressing by the window, staring out at the pretty Eiffel Tower who shines, lit up for the evening. The room is dark, dressed in midnight tones, the only light outside and the glow of one of the lamps upon the table top. Jeongguk is so wordlessly in awe that he doesn’t care about not being able to see. He sees your silhouette against the light of the city, curved and beautiful, hidden away by a long button up that you picked out of the wrong suitcase, not that he cares. His cheek is pressed against the pillow and he feels his body lifting up off the bed like he’s levitating. God, his chest is so light, it hurts, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, laugh, smile, leap up and yell. You finish buttoning and turn and he returns to the mattress.

The bed dips as you crawl up onto it, your knees by Jeongguk as you sit next to him on the bed. Instantly, Jeongguk’s hands move to your hair to move it away from your face as you look down at him, one hand on your knee also. On command, the smile on his lips widens softly when you brush away his fringes off his face, humming and then reaching down for a kiss, stealing one from his lips without warning and another off the slope of his chin.

“Paris is pretty,” you tell him. Jeongguk hums. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry it’s not the Maldives, baby.”

“Whatever. Paris is better,” you say. “Our view is gorgeous.”

You look back at the window. Jeongguk does not. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“Must have been expensive as fuck,” you exhale, turning back to him. His hand that was once on your face drops to your back, wandering until it’s found on your ass. It feels nice, you can’t complain.

“Rich kids of LA come to Paris to make noise and take tourist photos by the Eiffel Tower,” Jeongguk replies, joking but sounding serious, which is a talent of his. You laugh, so he knows it’s something you recognise. He laughs too. “It’s actually in Yoongi’s name. Just asked him if I could use it for a weekend away.”

Your brows curve upwards in amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a fraud, it’s not my apartment,” he sighs, “but, at least we’re here. Like it enough, and I’ll buy us a house here.”

“Are we really there yet?”

“Might be,” Jeongguk theorises. “Wanna try it for a bit longer?”

Nothing is said. Outside, a car honks and you sigh at the same time, through your nose, playing with your fingers with Jeongguk’s locks of hair that grow longer over his face. His head hasn’t moved, still squashed against the pillows, his earrings tangled and most likely stuck to strands of his hair, a difficulty for when he decides to move. He feels your hand on his face again, comforting, and he inhales your familiar scent and knows you’ve come closer by the time you’re there, pressing your lips to his.

It’s fleeting, fast. You pull away right as Jeongguk comes to terms with what you’re doing, and so he follows you up as you move away. He’s sitting up, his hands on your elbows as he moves to kiss you again, finish what you started.

A bar door outside opens and music spills out, just as Jeongguk’s hands move from your elbows to your ribcage, his heart in his throat when you reach up to tenderly hold his face, fingers near his ears on his neck. This is euphoria; your hands drop, Jeongguk moving once more to prod and palm. As he kisses you, his thumbs gently massage around your breasts, in circular motions, soft and cradling and exploring. Into his mouth you groan, quietly, like a vocal moan that lasts for a few seconds before being captured by his lips again. Jeongguk’s left hand claws at your boob, grabbing, reaching up to your neck. Now he’s holding you, his hair in his eyes tickling as he guides you. On your cheek, you feel his thumb grazing, holding you close to him even when you pull apart for a modicum of a second to capture your breath. Quite possibly, he could be sick out of nerves - your hands fall limply to his wrists, then down as his hands hold the damp back of your head. After a little longer, Jeongguk pulls himself away, his eyes half-lidded and yours closed entirely.

He admires what he’s done and what he sees. Once more, he kisses you, dragging it out until he’s moved away again, simply admiring. You’re far from done, though; you pull him back after catching your breath, your eyes now open and slightly fuzzy. Jeongguk smiles, warmly, gently. You might cry. As his hands drop from your head to the top of your shirt, fiddling with his fingers around the buttons, your lip gets caught between your bottom teeth and Jeongguk’s eyes are drawn to the sight. He might make a comment, might not. He decides not to. Instead, he moves back in and bides his hands time to undo your buttons.

The cool silk of your shirt drops as he undos the buttons, sliding like rainwater down your shoulders and arms, until it pools around your elbows. Thankfully for him, Jeongguk’s only in joggers and a button down, something he can easily slip himself out of. You’re wearing next to nothing, now that the shirt’s out of the question; all that decorates underneath is underwear, which Jeongguk doesn’t care for anyway. His hands paw at the shirt, trying to undo the last button without pulling away but it feels impossible. Frustrated, he huffs and moves away, his gaze locked on the final button above your pantline and he flushes when a laugh leaves your lips, something small and delicate and girly. He twitches.

“You, too,” you say, once the shirt is removed and you’re only in underwear, which is next on Jeongguk’s list of things to remove. He looks up with mild surprise, having the audacity to be confused by what you’re talking about. It is only when your fingers curl around the waist of his joggers that he smiles, like an idiot, and hums charmingly.

“Shuffle back for a minute?” Jeongguk asks, and you do, excited and buzzing when Jeongguk quickly pushes the joggers down his thighs. When they bunch around his ankles he kicks furiously, like a child, grunting - and you’re laughing, giggling like a school-girl, drunk on the residue of his lips. Of course, he smiles too, because happiness is a goddamn drug. He inhales with exasperation, muttering “아이씨” under his breath. He finishes it up with a chuckle, a voiceless laugh out of his throat, and then he kisses you again.

Jeongguk eventually ends up lifting you, one arm flush against your waist and his other hand graciously ripping down your underwear, careless and selfish when he hears the fabric tear. Your eyes widen, having heard it too, but you’re too dazed to mention it. The undies are tossed towards the balcony door and Jeongguk settles you back on his lap, for a brief moment. He kisses you again, pulling himself snug against you and then, he lays you down.

“So pretty,” Jeongguk comments, his hands sliding down your sides.

“You can’t even see me,” you say.

Jeongguk shrugs, shuffling down the bed. His elbows pinch into your thighs, locking his arms over them and his chin is on top of your groin. “Don’t need to. I just know.”

You slightly laugh, finding it endearing. Jeongguk chuckles too, pressing a kiss to your stomach and then his hands push up at your calves. With your legs up into arrow shapes, knees to the sky, Jeongguk kindly peels them apart, planting himself right in between.

“Jeongguk,” you breathe his name. He grins, you can feel his mouth extending against your skin. He doesn’t reply.

Situated between two smooth legs, Jeongguk’s head dips and dives. A groan is rasped out of you, followed by a string of moany exhales as Jeongguk’s tongue lays flat, covering every inch of your pussy further with sucks and nips that make your toes curl. Jeongguk’s not done this to you before. He feels slightly anxious, because he wants it to be good for you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, burrowing his head in.

“Mpmf- Jeongguk,” you gasp, your head hiding in the comforter. Jeongguk’s on his stomach, nonchalant. Jeongguk licks everywhere he can, kitten licks that stretch out into long ones, exploring. Your mouth drops. Jeongguk moves one hand away from your leg, his fingers curling up to your pussy to stretch out your labia, one finger lazily brushing against your clit. Each brush is exciting, teasing, sensitive. He hums. He’s heard you. He wants to hear more.

He doesn’t do more, because Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cum yet. He has his fun, feeling your thighs lock around his head and quiver when his fingers swipe on your nub, his tongue inching into your cunt, driving out sounds from your lips. Jeongguk entertains that for a few more minutes, hard and throbbing by the time you’re begging for him to stop, rather than keep going.

When he pulls away, your legs shake, quivering like being left out in the cold for too long. He lays down flat instead, tapping your body for you to make a move when you’re ready, which doesn’t take long. Soon after, he feels the brush of your wetness against his leg as you haul yourself up and onto him, hovering over his middle, your hands on his chest.

Jeongguk cocks his head thoughtfully. “Want to?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Hair falls over your shoulder. “Do you have a condom on you?”

“In my bag, somewhere,” Jeongguk suggests. He glances to the pile of bags near the door, “But it’s so far away. Are you on the pill?”

“No,” you frown. There’s nothing for a minute. “Want to anyway?”

Jeongguk hesitates, “Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do,” you tell him. Just as you’re about to take his dick in your hand, Jeongguk reaches out to stop you. You look up at him, finding the glimmer in his eyes in the dull light, “what?”

“What if I cum?” Jeongguk asks.

“I’d like you to.”

“What if I cum inside of you?”

A short silence. Jeongguk drums his fingers impatiently against your thigh. “Whatever,” you settle with. His heart trembles when your hand wraps around him. “I’d be a good Mom.”

Jeongguk laughs, then, his other hand joining the other on your waist. “If it happens, I’ll look after both of you. You can be unemployed and pampered if that’s what you want.”

“God, that’s fucking sexy,” you sigh.

He’s kidding, so are you, but the risk is still great. Jeongguk swallows a thick lump down his throat and settles his hands on your hips, embarrassed to be nervous with the build up of you rising up on your knees, planted either side of his waist. A tremor of coldness makes him shudder as your hand touches the base of his dick, hypersensitive without the rubber. For a brief moment, he catches your gaze, slightly hidden away behind fringes of hair that cast over your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, nervous and rubbing his hands against your skin.

You dip your head. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Mhm. I just - just want it to be good for you,” he confesses. “Don’t want it to hurt you. Don’t want you to regret it.”

“Well, are you clean? I got tested not too long ago, did it before my last pill. I’m clean.”

Jeongguk shifts. “Did it on tour with Hoseok. He was going because of Rosie and I was going because he suggested it for us. I’m good. That sound alright for you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It sounds perfect for me.”

And so it’s perfect for him, too. Jeongguk questions whether this is right, whether he should stop, but right now he can’t think properly. Not when he can feel himself growing rigid in your grasp, the bristle in his body when you slowly rub your clit across the head of his cock, vibrations. He grunts under his breath, his fingers shaking against your hips. Looking up at Jeongguk once more between your hair, catching the pull of his bottom lip in the scarce light and feeling his body rising beneath you, you shake your head over your shoulders and position yourself. And then you sink.

Paris is a gorgeous city, bustling with life. Across the narrow road, where another small apartment sits with a bay window and a balcony decorated with plants, the lights flicker in strobe patterns, neons bleeding into dulls seeping into pastels. A party, a parade, an applause when the size of Jeongguk adjusts inside of you. He can’t hear you, not over the noise of the party that has suddenly birthed in the moonlight hours. Perhaps Jeongguk is thankful for this, and the way it covers up his noises also.

Jeongguk groans inwards when you clench around him, familiar with the way it feels, remembering the unaccustomed sting and burn. After some time to adjust, you relax, making your first movements up and down, testing the waters, building a rhythm. Jeongguk can’t breathe, his mind paused, his breathing lodged in his throat, his lungs singing. You keep it up, the momentum, finding a pattern in the beat of the music in the background; the bass is your routine, each bump a drop onto Jeongguk’s hips, the brush of his head against your inner walls, euphoric.

“Oh my - fuck,” Jeongguk hisses, his voice barely heard. You catch it though, like a faint whisper, the sound burning your face with embarrassment. His grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as his palms slide from your hips to your ass. He holds like handles of a motorbike, guidance.

You’re slouching, hunched over with your hands on Jeongguk’s chest. He feels a pressure, not sure if it’s your hands pushing down or if it’s his own body, forcing down an orgasm he doesn’t want to have too soon. He sees purple behind you, your dark silhouette cast over him like an angel. With every slap against his body made by your ass, Jeongguk groans, grunts, borderline moans. When he strains to hear your gasps of air something in the background masks them, a sabotage.

“Feel good?” Jeongguk asks. His hands move to your wrists.

You whimper, thoughtless.

“Babe, does it feel good?”

“Mhm.” Your head falls to the side, cheek on your shoulder: “Mhm, feels good.” Something moany comes out of your lips, something muffled and whined. Imploring, spoiled. “Fuck, Jeongguk, that feels so good - keep….keep it like that.”

Jeongguk thinks it over, familiarising himself with his own movements. His grip squeezes around your wrist.

“Like that?” He follows with his body slowly thrusting up, like he would move if he were grinding the air, like inching his hips up under the covers to feel his dick on the duvet.

“Yeah,” you breathe. Even though he can’t see that well, you glance down at him: “can you - can you hold my hands?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach sink and rise, flipping, the butterflies. “Sure, baby.”

When you feel Jeongguk’s hands in your own, you hum to yourself, rising with your fingers interlocked. Jeongguk lets you do what you want with them, obliging when you slightly part his arms, hands locked on either side in the air. You sink, and rise, and sink, and rise, and Jeongguk is lost in the stars. Red, orange, blue, magenta- the rainbow appears as your wings, Jeongguk’s eyes trying to adjust in the dark on your face, on your tits, on the bits that are grainy in his vision. He imagines instead, based off memory of the beach, and the rain. When he feels your cunt clench around him again and your hands slip away to fall back behind you, Jeongguk curses into the air and lifts himself up, his arms wrapped around your middle.

“You feel so good,” Jeongguk says, his lips ghosted over yours now that he’s sitting upright. “Mhm? Hear me? Fuck, you feel so fucking good right now-”

You whimper. Jeongguk seals it up, steals it, captures it with his mouth as he kisses you. His hands are all twisted and searching, one between your shoulder blades and the other on your ass, his mind reeling when you put your palms on his cheeks, absolute bliss. It’s loud, or it would be if he could hear over the sound of the music in the apartment over, and Jeongguk picks up pieces in between the basslines, vocals and harmonies stripped apart so he can find your voice underneath. He pulls his mouth away, latching it to your neck, where your mouth is near his ear, right where he wants it. A hot flush runs up his body when he feels your breath on his ear, hears your needy moans and groans, feels your hands clawing at his back.

“Ugh- umf, Guk, I’m - I’m close,” you pant, his reply a bite to your neck. He sinks his teeth in, like a vampire with dull teeth, and you cry out into his ear. His cock twitches inside of you, the ridges of his cock smearing against your walls. He hums, not sure if you’ll hear it. You don’t. He pulls away and mouths the bite.

“Cum when you want to,” he says sweetly, moving his mouth to your ear briefly before moving back away. His hair is soft against your neck, his head angled to kiss at your skin, covered in a glow.

“What about you?” you ask.

Jeongguk smiles, his teeth present on your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck, his eyes closed serenely as he holds you tight, holds you as you bounce up and down for the finale. Above him, your body trembles.

“Tired,” you laugh breathlessly, and Jeongguk makes a confused noise, like he hasn’t quite heard you correctly. After no reply, he sniffs, collecting you in his arms to hold you tighter than before, using his energy to move you. You may as well be paralysed, a fucktoy for him as he bounces you up and down, basking in the moans in his ear, pornographic and nasty and lewd and heard over the music that has changed tempo.

“Ah!” Jeongguk grunts into your ear with every slam onto his dick, feeling his body seize up in warning. “Gonna - I might…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. You’re not listening to it. All you can focus on is the feeling in your stomach, pressing your nails into Jeongguk’s skin.

Jeongguk saves his own release for later. He focuses, instead, on you and making you feel good, slowing himself down in the race so that you can come first. His lips press back to yours, tongue hot, and he stops bouncing you. One arm is tight around your waist and the other snakes to the front of your body, between your legs where around your thighs he finds your clit, rubbing with his thumb. He can feel your body tense and dither over him, a tightness clenching around him as you squirm, Jeongguk’s hips tiredly thrusting upwards in a slow and steady rhythm.

“Ah - Jeongguk,” you cry, words sinking into his mouth. “Baby-”

With one final flick upwards, Jeongguk lets out a throat-forced grunt into your mouth right as the pot spills, and down the length of Jeongguk’s dick trickles white. You can’t see, it’s dark and blurry, and everything feels numb. It’s nothing like the beach, which was sweet and tender and a rainy haze. This time, it’s a burning that feels dull until it races up your body, like hot goosebumps, until it washes over your body like the drop from the tallest roller coaster. Jeongguk milks it up, his own hands shaking as he grunts wordlessly, until he stutters, his toes curling.

“Umf- babe,” he pants. He moves his hands, you’re attempting to move for him but you feel stuck. Instead you clench, hard and soft, Jeongguk squirms. “Gonna- I’m-” He’s silent. One moment, you hear the laughter and a cork pop outside, and the next moment, Jeongguk’s moans are in your ear, his hands rubbing up your thighs as he moves twice upwards, as if storing his cum in safe spots inside. And then, as if on cue, he pulls out, stuffing his hand where his dick was to feel the cum drip out, like a melting ice-cream.

On his forehead he feels your lips parted and breathing and he fiddles his fingers around, non-sexually, curious. The cum stains his fingers, dressing them, and he laughs from his chest, lost of breath.

Jeongguk sighs, slotting his fingers into your mouth quite suddenly. He can barely see you, the light is still dim behind you but it’s enough for him to make it out, the grain obtrusive. He feels your lips close around his fingers and your tongue on his fingertips, a dazed smile across his face.

He sighs again. “Shit. You’re incredible.”

With a wet sound, he moves his fingers out. Despite cumming, his dick is still semi-hard, on it’s way out. Jeongguk preens when your arms wrap around his neck, his mouth needily on yours for a brief kiss. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“The best,” he confirms. “Where’ve you been all my life, hm?”

You laugh through your nose, quiet. “Wasting money at Uni and working for my cousin.” He laughs too, a small one that makes him sound small. You play with the hair at the back of his head, “Sorry for making you wait so long.”

He shrugs. “Was worth it. You’re worth the wait.”

You hum in reply, too tired to move.

“Sticky,” you say with a frown.

Jeongguk’s arms tighten around you, acknowledging your words. “And you just got clean.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower in the morning.”

After a short while of sitting there, you slowly untangle your arms from around him. Jeongguk has the nerve to be confused, a small hum in question as you climb off him.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“I’m going to pee,” you reply. “To be safe.”

“Oh. Okay, pee on.”

“Sorry,” you say. Leaning up to kiss his lips, Jeongguk smiles into it and all the while as you move to hurry towards the bathroom. The sound of the toilet seat being lifted, and a slight squeak from the toilet that Yoongi desperately needs to consider replacing, and then Jeongguk settles down onto the bed with a happy sigh. His chest rises and falls as the party goes on outside, fireworks behind the Eiffel Tower.

He could get used to this.

Something wakes you up with the sunrise, twisting into soft orange colours that stretch across the agriculture of Paris. It barely lights up the city, enough for shadows to still be drawn across the mocha coloured buildings, the stone still cold in the shade. You wriggle inside the sheets slightly, discomfort between your legs and very slowly, your eyes adjust to the slight light brewing in the bedroom.

The patio doors leading out onto the small balcony are drawn open, the see-through curtains swaying like slow hips in the wind. Beside you, the bed is cold, untucked and open where Jeongguk has climbed out. Mentioning Jeongguk, you notice that he sits on the end of the bed, facing the sunrise and the Eiffel Tower with a notebook in his hand. The pages are folded over the spine, bulking it up, and he taps a pen against his ear quietly. The sound is all you can hear alongside the early-rising birds, a car honk outside and the next door neighbours hanging out of their window with chocolate bread and strong coffee.

“Mmm. Guk?”

Your voice is slightly hoarse, bedirdden, and Jeongguk manages to hear it as he turns his head over his shoulder. A smile dawns on his face and he shifts, one hand on the bed and the book closing shut on its own. “Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You yawn, rubbing your eyes. Some mascara rubs off onto your hand. “No, you’re okay.” He doesn’t say anything at first, there’s no competition for the next word. When your vision finally settles onto a visible image, you see Jeongguk’s face and the book in his lap. “What are you doing…? Wait, what time is it…”

“It’s about five thirty,” Jeongguk estimates, although he’s not sure. He’s actually not far off, it’s five fourty one. “And, um...not much.” For a moment, Jeongguk sounds bashful. He shrugs, hiding the book and smiling at you. “You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be quiet.”

“Kinda hungry,” you admit. You inhale the air, “Oh my God, those fuckers next door have coffee.”

“Chocolate bread, too. Caught a glimpse when I opened the doors.”

You groan. “What the fuck…”

Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. His head turns back towards the Eiffel Tower, in awe, and after a few minutes of nothing but morning silence, you sigh and clamber over the sheets. They’re cold, crisp and wrinkled, and Jeongguk looks up at the noise. He frowns, only because you’re wearing barely anything.

“You’re gonna get cold,” Jeongguk points out, his hands reaching for the bed throw that had been kicked onto the floor during the night. “Want me to close the window?”

“No, it’s pretty.”

“It’s cold, though.”

You push your face onto Jeongguk’s shoulder blade. “Whatever.”

He chuckles, resigning from the conversation. You’ll win anyway. A tiny bird lands on the patio rails, and you inhale the morning air, planting a kiss on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?”

This makes Jeongguk look up. His eyes wear confusion and adoration, round and searching as he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why, why wouldn’t they be?”

“I worry about you, ‘s all,” you reply quietly. “All the time.”

Jeongguk’s heart breaks.

“I’m...I’m good,” he replies honestly. “Really good. I haven’t been doing this great in...well...I don’t know, forever? Call it cringey, or whatever, but having you in my life...Fuck, it’s changed everything.”

You gaze up at him. “You’ve made a pretty big difference in my life, too, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m here for you. Always.”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat- his hand wraps to stroke your hair, curled from the shower earlier, pressing a little kiss to your nose. He nods, and his hair brushes against your face. “Yeah.” He nods, confident, “Yeah. Actually- LOL,” he laughs, “I. Um, I wrote something.”

“Oh? Yeah, what did you write?”

He reopens the book. The pages are littered with lines of writing, alongside small doodles in the margins, words like arrows shooting across the lines. His hands flip to a page that has the corner marked down, the numbers “23” in bold outline at the top of the page. You inhale, nervous, your eyes lazily looking at the lines.

“Just a song,” Jeongguk explains. “Woke up, looked over at you, just got the idea. I had to write it down as soon as I thought about it. Got the melody and stuff worked out, just need to make a note and tell the guys when I get back.”

You hum, genuinely enthralled. You quickly look at him, “Can I hear some?”

If it were light enough, you might have caught a blush across his face. He clears his throat, shy.

“I’m fadin’ away off some kind of drug, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s love,” his voice is quiet, almost as if speaking the words is something wrong, “I know I said I’d straighten a week ago, I feelin’ though, bout to reach my peak, you know. This city’s got me fallin, now, I’m fading away, I’m losing my head…” He mutters the lyrics, singing quietly. As he skims over what he’s got scribbled down, you can feel your heart thudding, soaring, feeling numb and soft and warm and everything else.

“It’s about you, called 23,” Jeongguk says. At some point, you’ve missed the rest of the lyrics, intent on gazing at Jeongguk like he is God’s angel sent down from Heaven. He is so beautiful, so kind and pure. “Sound okay?”

You nod, and maybe Jeongguk sees tears pearling in your eyes. “Yeah. Fuck- it sounds beautiful, Guk.”

A smile immediately reaches across Jeongguk’s face. It lights up the room better than the sun, now reaching higher into the sky. “You’re beautiful. I wanna make you so happy.”

“You do make me happy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, laughing, his eyes turned into moons. “Well...Look. I’ve never had to ask anyone, so it’s awkward as fuck right now, but...like…” He laughs, and you do too, because you know it’s coming, “Do you, like...wanna be my girl?”

“Your girl?”

He laughs louder. “Fine - my girlfriend! Y/N L/N, the light of my small and sad life, will you please be my girlfriend?”

Once your laughter has calmed down, and Jeongguk’s hand tiredly slips from your hair down to the bed next to your own, you really, honestly look at Jeongguk. Above everything else, you can’t quite believe that you are here with him; with somebody you never thought you had a chance with, with somebody who you would do absolutely anything for. The way you presently feel about Jeongguk is overwhelming and dangerous, so strong that sometimes you feel afraid by it. You bite your bottom lip, amusing the idea of actually thinking about it, and then you nod.

“Sure. Of course,” you agree, kissing his shoulder. His head follows you, his breath on the bare skin of your shoulders as he ducks his head to kiss the side of yours. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk feels like he could quite honestly burst into tears. “I’ve got you.”

(“I’m not 23 though,” you say to him once the love has died down. He cracks a smile and pushes you back onto the bed, returning to look at the Eiffel Tower.)

part two (final)

[awabubbles]

If it's not too early to ask yet... so far what was the most challenging part of writing VICE? Like scene or passage... and which one was the most fun? :^)

Not too early at all. You can never get a writer to stop talking about their work lol ❤ But in the thick of trying to finish it I would say "writing the ending" is the most challenging. It's always difficult to take the stray ends of a long fic and tie everything together. But that's ESPECIALLY true for this fic because while I had a very clear idea of the beginning I thought the ending could go one of two ways: do they live? or do they die?. And at some point...you have to make a decision, right? So I spent a looooong time waffling, a long time drafting chapters that I wrote, rewrote, trashed, started over again. And every chapter I would subsequently publish sloooooowly helped me understand which path I should take. Like, at some point it wasnt even what I wanted anymore its what the story wanted? Which sounds wacky but I stand by it lol.

As for the best part? I still love the scenes when Sam and Dean meet for the first time. And there's two of those right? There's undercover Dean in the hotel, trying to play this role that he's a little too good at in front of his peers, and then theres "tired cop just trying to go home" Dean when he drives Sam home (and in a way I suppose those are two different Sams he's meeting as well). Those were also scenes I rewrote several times, because they were so important, and because I was still figuring the characters out.

Additionally i would say reading people's responses has been the most fun/rewarding. I know this fic has dragged on for awhile but I'm not lying when I say it prob would have just sat there if, every so often, while in one of my ruts, some one hadnt come around and left a beautiful comment, or commented on every chapter, or just squeeed a lot. Then I would open up my drafts, and pick it back up where I left off. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. And that's why I'm currently trying to finish it. Because someone left a beautiful message ❤ and I'm both...hesitant and excited to see what everyone thinks of the end.

[thewritingstar]

Up in the Clouds

Fandom: The PowerPuff Girls

Pairing: Blossick (Brick and Blossom aka Reds) 

I have been on a hype for the Reds lately and i have almost forgotten how much i love my og otp. This fic is kinda of all over and messy but its cute and i like it. A little out of character but i have a soft spot for the hc that the boys grew up and soon they all became closer, so the most unoriginal idea ever. 

Hope you enjoy! I should prob right for the other pairings too lol. 

------

“For this assignment, you will be given an emotion at random and must write AND present about.” The class groaned as she handed out the papers. “You can look at it however you want. Whether its stating things that occur during emotion or what you personally feel, be creative. You’ll present at the end of the month.” 

Brick took the papers and passed them back to the next student as the teacher came by and dropped a folded piece of paper on his desk. 

“Also there will be no changes. You get what you get.” She stated and he rolled his eyes as he opened the small piece. 

Love. 

His hands crumbled the paper in his fist and he knew it would be pathetic to try and get someone to change. He could do this. All he needed to do was make up some sappy shit and piss on about it. He thought about talking about platonic love or family love. How even though his brothers made him want to smash their faces into walls until their blood flows down his hand, he still cared about them. It felt more like he was obligated too anyways. 

“I got happiness, which is pretty vague. Hey Blossom? Which one did you get?” A fellow student, he thinks is named Alicia asked the pink puff. 

“Oh I got sorrow.” She responded and everyone had gone into discussions about their ideas and assignments. 

A guy turned to Brick to ask about his but he was already out the door as the bell rang. 

The cafe welcomed him as the small bell chimed. His head had been a mess after the assignment was made and although he had seven drafts planned out, none of them seemed to work. He even asked Boomer about it and as he went into detail about a blue eyed, pig tailed super hero, Brick was already regretting asking him. 

He ordered at the counter, just a simple soda and a crepe and turned to find a seat. He saw an empty table pressed against the wall to his left but as he turned to the right he saw another table. Occupied with a pink eyed, bow wearing superhero. 

He was already at the table before he registered what was happening. She seemed to be alone and he took her by surprise as she looked up. 

“Oh, Hi Brick.” She said and he gestured to the seat and she scooted a book out of the way before he plopped down. 

“What are you doing here, its like eight o’clock on a school night.” He noticed that the sun was dying down. 

She shrugged and pointed to her milkshake. “I had a craving, plus I have a late start period for school so I came here to clear my head. Plus Bubbles was being especially loud on the phone.” he already knew that she was referring to her and Boomer. They had been talking nonstop and not even a lamp thrown at his head would shut him up. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked him and he mimicked the shrug and pointed to his crepe. 

“Cravings. And needed some space, this English assignment is kicking my ass.” He didn’t know why he admitted to that and he saw her eyes perk up. 

“The emotion one?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

That took him by surprise. She was the one who was always raving with emotion, this should be a breeze. 

“What did you get?” She asked him. His eyes traveled to his plate were warm chocolate and fresh strawberries collided. 

“Strawberry.”

She let out a small laugh and he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I meant for the project.” 

oh. 

He felt incredibly dumb at that moment and she bubbled out another laugh. That small sound was actually pleasant to hear and for some reason, he wanted to hear it again and again. 

“Oh. Um I got love.” He didn’t know why he felt slightly embarrassed and he picked up his drink to chugged it down as she held a puzzling expression. 

“Hmm that is a tough one. There’s all types of love.”

“That’s what i was thinking. Well, what about you?”

“Sorrow.”

“Well that’s easy, just pick something sad.” 

She said nothing for a moment and instead went to her milkshake, which he noticed was also strawberry, not that it mattered. 

“I don’t think its thats simple. Jeremy got sad and I got sorrow so i need to make sure it doesn’t sound similar.” 

“But they are similar.” 

“Well yes but-”

“Just talk about a loss you had as a superhero. What it feels like to not be able to save the day or something.” He was met with another round of silence. 

Her eyes traveled outside the window. the sun was now in its sunset glow and the sky had become a mixture of purple and pink as it faded out the blue. From the cafe you could see the lines of the city skyscrapers blending into the sky. It was quiet on this side of town and he wondered what it would be like to float onto those clouds, careless and free. 

--

And so they did. After she finished her milkshake and he his soda, he posed that they traveled to where only they could go. Why? He didn’t know and neither did she. 

Her legs dangled off the cloud that hovered just above the ocean. Some would be afraid that they would fall through but they had used their powers to keep them up. 

The cool air blew against their faces and he felt like he could breath better than on the ground.

“Have you ever been in love?” She asked out of the blue, her eyes were focused on the small waves rolling onto to the shore. 

“No.” A simple answer that he wasn’t to sure of. he should of been certain. he didn’t know what love, a romantic connection felt like. He had dated girls before, all throughout middle and high school but never once did those words cross his mind. 

“Me either.” She responded and he turned towards her. 

It was almost as if he couldn’t breath. A swell inside his chest had taken hold and he wondered why she looked so...beautiful against the light. the soft glow of the sun setting made her hair more vibrant and her baby pink eyes sparkle. He wanted to scream at himself for thinking like that but when she turned and caught his eyes, he watched the blush spread slowly on her fair skin and that protest had been silenced. 

They held each others gaze. He was right, he had never been in love before, but if he had then he would need a new word for what was happening to him now. His memory fled back to every girl he had ever dated and some how, somewhere, she was there in the background. During their fights or even civil conversations, she was the only one to catch his attention.

They had grown up together, viciously of course but after spending his adolescent wanted to rip her head off, he just wanted to pull her close. He never believed in fate or soulmates or what not but sometimes, even as a stupid kid, he wondered if that pink counterpart of a girl was actually made for him. 

“Thats a shame.” He whispered and he leaned closer as she did the same. 

“For the both of us.” But they barely beard her words as their lips connected. 

Her lips were soft as the cloud they were on. The taste of strawberry was on her lips and her hands wrapped around his neck as his got lost in her long ginger locks. They had spent all their time avoiding each other when they both knew that they would always return to each other. 

Every break up was about her. The girl getting mad at how he stared at her or made time to study but not for them. he didn’t realize it until now but that hatred he carried at the start of his creation had melted away slowly like an icicle at the end of winter. 

They pulled away and it felt colder than it was before. Her eyes still locked to his. Pink and Red. Just like the sunset and sky. Just like the glow of a bright raging fire. Just like them. 

it felt like eons had passed before she looked towards the city. That vibrant sunset was long gone as the sky had turned a deep black and was now painted with stars. 

“i should go.” She said but it sounded forced as if she was saying she didn’t want to. 

He nodded and they agreed that it was best to part separate since she lived on the other side. He helped her stand up, their feet sinking into the cloud and she turned to him with a soft smile. “Have a nice night Brick.” And soon the dark sky had a flash of pink that disappeared quickly under the stars. 

--

Bricks mind was lost and he tapped his pencil to his desk quietly. the presentations had started for the week and so far happiness, anger, fear and sorrow were up. His mind finally came back to focus towards the end of Blossoms piece and he had cursed himself for barely hearing the first half. 

“Its empty and cold, like an unforgiving stare. It haunts you in your dreams and leaves you feeling numb. It lingers and when you think that the pain and suffering is done, it washes over you again, taking and taking until the only sensation left is a hollow shell. 

My sisters and I have felt this on multiple occasions. When you can’t save everyone and feel the pity and sadness within the air. But joy and laughter can bring the sadness to a end. The sorrowfulness lasts longer than you think. And it makes you believe that nothing matters anymore.” Blossom finished the last of her piece. Her eyes, along with others in the class had glazed over and she was sure her teacher had been brought to tears at her story and ending. 

The applause from the class surrounded the room and she took a small bow before returning to her seat.

Maybe after class they could talk.

The bell sounded through the class and Blossom made her way out of the class. Another school day over.

“Hey.” She turned to see Brick. The students around them were bush trying to leave and get out quickly before a line at the parking lot formed.

“Hey” She returned softly and it dawned on them that they really didn’t know what was between them. 

That night a few weeks ago had not be forgotten but was placed high up on a shelf, they almost forgot about it, almost. Its not like they were avoiding each other, no, school and work had overcome both of their lives, mostly hers of course. 

“So do you maybe wanna go-” He started but the red pair was interrupted with a flash of blue between them. 

“Hey Blossom! Hi Brick.” Bubbles smiled brightly. “Oh Bloss just to let ya know tonight is Sister Showdown.” Her smile held a evil glare and she turned and exited school. 

“What the hell is Sister Showdown?” He asked and Blossom blew up her bangs. 

“Its a competition thing between Bubbles and Buttercup. Last time one was held, we had to replace our roof so I’d rather not be there.” The hallways were no empty and it was just them. “So what were you saying?” 

--

They ended up at the cafe for the third time that week. Every milkshake and crepe was finished with a trip to the clouds as they watched the sun set. They never spoke about what they were or the emotions, just enjoyed each others company and maybe left the night with a kiss or two. 

They talked about anything and everything, sometimes just sitting quietly and counting the waves. 

Her sisters would asked where shes been and she had the same studying excuse before humming to herself and falling asleep with a smile at her lips. 

His brothers would hound on him, teasing him and slapping him until he would throw them off and the subject would be dropped, but they never missed the fact that he was in a better mood. 

It was their secret. The clouds and them. He found it easier and easier to write his paper after watching endless movies, though in the back of his mind, the two main love interest were always replaced with a pair of redheads. Pink and red. 

--

The end of the presentation days came and of course Brick was the last to go.

“That’s the thing about love. You think you know yourself as the days go by, that you recognize every moment as what they are. Love can’t blind you if you’re always aware. It won’t bother you as you keep it in line, making sure that you don’t slip up as you keep reminding yourself there’s no point.” He looked up and was met with a wide pair of eyes. 

Pink. Bright pink. 

“And then you jolt awake. It hits you faster than the speed of light and soon you are falling. Your lungs squeeze tight as you gasp for air and only when you admit to yourself is when you can breath. Love will force you to look at all the positives. It forces that other person onto a silver platter and a podium that is so small, only they can stand on it. They might not think they are perfect but your mind becomes numb and blind to the heart, its the only explanation. That’s the thing about love, right when you think you’ve fallen, you hit the ground.” 

He hadn’t even looked at his paper as his eyes were still lined with hers. The applause in the room shook him to his core as he broke the gaze held with the fiery redheaded girl. 

“And when you never think love will come towards you, you might find that its been there all along.” 

He couldn’t tell you what the teacher said as he returned to his seat and his mouth was parted open slightly as it dawned on him what he had just done. 

He wrote that for the assignment. Based off of shitty romance novels and movies. But in the end, it had been for her. 

Always her. 

--

She found him high up in the clouds that night. They hadn’t spoken since and every word he said had ran through his mind. 

Their shoulders touched as she sat next to him. Both their eyes focused on the waves below. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it felt natural and good. Although the quiet night was peaceful, he was ridged and frozen in place. 

Even with his blank expression, she could tell his mind was racing. He was choosing his words and mapping out the thoughts and scenarios one by one. And she was doing that too but there were times where planning and perfection weren’t always the best plans. 

He turned towards her, his mouth open as if he were ready to speak but she had already decided that he had said enough. The next thing he knew, her lips were connected with his. 

Its soft and sweet. Delicate but fragile. His eyes had closed and his hand gently rested on her cheek as she leaned into his touch. He could hear her heartbeat thumping at a fast pace and knew his was just the same. A small sound escaped her lips as he tilted his head and soon her arms were around his shoulders as they fell deeper into each other. She could feel the smirk on his lips as they pulled away. 

Both breathing heavily for air as their foreheads rested against one another. 

“Did-did you mean what you said.” She whispered and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Everything you said?”

He rested the urge to not pull her back into another breathtaking kiss but instead raised an eyebrow. “What if it wasn’t about you?” He teased but they both knew the truth. They couldn’t lie anymore, not to each other at least. 

She smirked as she placed down between them before meeting his eyes. That motion alone had him spiraling as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing his. “Then I guess it would be a shame to say that I’ve fallen.” 

“It would be a shame for the both of us.” He kissed her. “But I’ve been on the ground for a long time.” 

“Good.”

---

I hope you liked it!!!

[mego42]

For the WIP meme! Your monster looks like mine! Rio + Annie broTP! Annnnnd a number! #3!

ty ty welcome to the circus or whatever, hahaha. i’m still in sleep debt idk what i’m saying. 

OKAY! so, rollerskating on, your monster looks like mine is the sex pollen fic I keep banging on about. I decided if I was going to do a widely panned trope I was going to go big vs going home (see also: dean pov, overdoing it in the face of perceived adversary is kind of my thing) and am trying to give it a theme and an arc and a truly unreasonable amount of angst. 

it takes place not that long after s3 and the two of them are like, you know, fairly well marinated in their animosity for each other and get thrown into this situation where they have limited control over how they physically feel about their proximity (heyo sex pollen!) and by god if they’re forced to be even a little bit vulnerable with each other they’re going to make it count and like, forcibly rip each other’s secrets out of each other (the hitman! lucy! 213! 209!). the whole idea behind the theme (and title) is a kind of hazy like calls to like, they’re both monstrous in overlapping ways and how they recognize/react to it is at the root of how they act towards each other. also, it’s alternating POV. 

idk, I have ambitious plans, a sprawling notes document, and probably like a third of it drafted but it’s super rough and I was in a weird place when I wrote it so it’s probs going to get reshaped a lot once I have the full draft out and see what I’m working with, but I have dug out a snippet under the cut!

He shows up a good twenty minutes after he told her to meet him, not bothering to park, just pulling up next to the van where she’s still fuming in the driver’s seat and telling her to get in. She gapes at him through the window, mouth opening and closing while she cycles through her options, deciding how she wants to play it. Curiosity must get the better of her though, because she hops in the passenger seat without a word—a fuckin’ miracle in and of itself. 

She holds it in for all of five minutes which, credit where credit’s due, is about four and a half longer than he was expecting.

“Where are we going?” 

She’s got that pissy little holier than thou tone going on, the one that always makes him itch to knock her down a peg or two.

“Bet you find out when we get there.”

The silence that falls between them’s thick enough it’s nearly tangible. Somethin’ ‘bout havin’ her in the car, even as big as it is, makes her feel closer than sittin’ next to her at a picnic table.

Rio takes shallow breaths, trying not to notice the hint of her perfume coating every inhale—something floral but not sweet, makes him think of night blooms and creamy, lush petals, makes him remember how much richer it smells right up against her skin.

He takes the next turn harder than he needs to, throwing them both around.

Elizabeth huffs and readjusts, making the leather creak. The tension radiating off her loosens his shoulders, and he relaxes back in his seat. He can see her drumming her fingers on her knee out of the corner of his eye, then smoothing her palms along her thighs like she’s trying to wipe something off. 

“Why bring me? Why not Mick or—or...any of your other guys?”

He scoffs, playin’ it up more than he needs to so she knows it’s a stupid question. “I roll in with back up, it looks like I think I need it. I roll in with you…”

He lets the sentence hang there, lazily turns his head to look at her and watch her bristle like a cat as she fills in the blanks. The funny part is of everyone he’s dealin’ with tonight she came the closest to finishin’ him off but he’s not about to tell her that. 

“‘Sides,” he continues, just to rub salt in the wound. “I need someone to take notes.”

“I’m not your secretary,” she snaps, that fake as hell yes sir, no sir mask she’s been painting on lately slipping and the tips of her claws coming out. Rio’ pulse jumps in answer.

“Yeah? You ain’t a sharpshooter either but you gave that your best go.”

That shuts her up for the rest of the ride. He’s almost disappointed. 

rio + annie brotp 

this one is just a concept as of now. the idea is rio and annie are roommates who maybe occasionally hook up when they’re bored, but mostly kind of just bump along sniping at each other and openly judging each other’s lives and choices but in a functionally dysfunctional sort of way, and their equilibrium is thrown off when annie’s older sister needs a place to stay for a while bc her life is falling apart. idk if/when I’ll ever get around to writing it because there is uh, lol, obvs some major yikes potential depending on what choices I make with different dynamics and I know rio and annie is v much not most people’s cup of tea for obvious reasons. I def want to write something with them being friends at some point though bc there’s a lot of comedic potential there that v much appeals to me.

#3

this is a dialogue prompt I wrote an opening for and then apparently abandoned it entirely with no notes to myself so thanks past!meg! you dick!

Beth knows that Annie and Ruby thought she was trying to be funny when she said Rio had a habit of popping up like a genie, and she was, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. 

She’s as used to it as it’s possible to get used to being caught continually off-guard. There’s a part of her that’s constantly on high alert every time she goes out, no matter where, scanning her surroundings, convinced that she’ll see him in the strangest of places. She never does though, and if she feels anything about that at all, it’s only relief and a continual low-level annoyance that he’s got her in a state of perpetual vigilance. 

It’s easier to convince herself of that when she doesn’t take into account those three months he was gone. How she couldn’t stop herself from looking, her attention snagging on all the different pieces of him she’d see in other people out of the corner of her eye: short dark hair, a slender build, a certain way of walking more liquid than anything else. Her breath would catch, her pulse would trip, but then she’d blink and the picture would become clear. It was never him, he’d never sneak up on her again because he was—

But he’s not, he’s here, in her kitchen, in the middle of the night Beth discovers as she screams, dropping the water glass she was coming in to refill in a move eerily similar to the first time she met him but with less groceries and more potential to cut her feet to ribbons.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, pushing past him to grab the broom and dustpan from the mudroom. He grunts as he shifts to the side, trying to get out of her way but she doesn’t think anything of it. “It’s three in the morning.”

why is Rio there? who knows! not me!

my wip folder is a mess and a mystery to me as much as you but ask me about any that strike your fancy anyway

[nightklok]

chickles for 2? or toki for 3 if someone asked for chickles already :3

Fandom Memes [open!] (shout out to firefox for crashing and making me rewrite this like twice-so i continued to add more to this because why not)

When I started shipping them: Oh this is actually a funny story- I can’t quite remember when I started shipping them but according to AO3, I read a chickles fanfic in November 2019 (the only one i didn’t reread because im sure there were others i read too) and that was around when I began starting the show. But around that time, I SWEAR when I looked at Charles wiki, there was some line there that was along the lines of  ‘Charles and Pickles had slept together sometime before Dethklok. while pickles doesn’t remember it, charles does’ I don’t even know if it was possibly a fever dream, mixing up a fanfic as canon, or I just happened to scroll through it when someone threw the line in BUT I CONSIDERED IT CANON and I lowkey waited for that scene as I remembered it on/off and it didn’t take until April 2020 when I finally finished the show to realize that it wasn’t canon D: so thanks to fanfics and probably misreading something in November-december 2019 that’s when I shipped them :D (Also if anyone knows where I may have gotten this from pls link me)

My thoughts: I love them!! They’ve made me happy shipping them and they’re just a good and wholesome ship to me! I think it has everything I could ever want in a ship; the angsty and sad moments but also the happy ones- I don’t know how I can articulate just how much they clicked with me but they really did! They’re like the ultimate band parents,

What makes me happy about them: I think I love how they can bring something in each other that they normally wouldn’t be able to do themselves. I headcanon Pickles as someone with ADHD (and aries because hi im an aries with ADHD) and I think Charles would be able to help calm him down and keep him focused or at least stimulated when he needs to be. Being with Charles can help him be a bit controlled (Though sometimes not by much when he wants to be a tease haha). I love the idea too of Pickles being able to bring Charles to have a more exciting day or just being able to help break routine a bit. Pickles sometimes likes to do things on the spur of the night just to keep himself entertained and Charles prefers to keep things in a schedule. They would find a compromise where Charles clears out a day and Pickles just takes him somewhere random. Is it a concert? Forest? Amusement park? Half the fun’s in not knowing! But Charles enjoys that he can be a bit looser and actually get to laugh and smile and just be having the time of his life with him-

What makes me sad about them: I think Doomstar/Post-doomstar and even the events between season 2 and 3 makes me sad, it breaks my heart in two just thinking about it. Pickles...would be so fucking devastated  when Charles died, especially if we go by if they met during Snakes N’ Barrels and he may have never gotten a chance to confess his feelings (or he did for more sadness) and Post-doomstar? He probably ends up blaming Charles leaving on himself and- though depending on where we’re thinking of the possibility of the timeline of their relationship, Going Downklok may have wrecked their relationship because alternatively, Pickles may not have flirted with Abigail but probably something else caused them to break up or destroy their relationship. There was a lot of tension/build up in that episode so I guess their build up and eventual burst would be feelings having to resurface, possibly Pickles getting too far in his addictions and Charles still revealing nothing about what happened during his absence or why he came back; so then you get  the dinner scene and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back to get him to quit and then all the events unfold and Pickles just blames himself so heavily on it  oh god i need to WRITE THIS

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I don’t think there’s anything in fanfic that annoys me when people write them- It’s more of being uncomfortable/disturbed?...there were a few fics I came across where Charles was borderline abusive/overly sadistic (and one where I wish I hadn’t read-) that left a bad taste in my mouth after reading it. I just feel like that’s way too OOC and Charles definitely isn’t the type of person to be an abusive asshole and/or would definitely know the boundaries of being sadistic in the bedroom while still making sure his partner is into it/feels safe. But i guess that kinda goes in general for any Charles/character fics- 

Things I look for in fanfic: I think them being in character, an interesting plot line, and just it being well written is all i can ask for haha-I honestly love any Chickles fanfic out there; I think the things I look for in particular are either his reactions to seeing Charles when he comes back or anything post doomstar but also implying that they met during Snakes N Barrels help

My wishlist:

I guess I’m just gonna shove in things I hope to write actually- (screaming at me to write particular fics helps motivate me so go @ it-)

A Star reader AU: this actually would be the one of the first (probs second or third) Chickles fic I had ever written as I had drafted it around ago even though I had initially planned for the Chickles to kinda be hinted at but with what I know now, would make it more prevalent. If anyone has read Blood Red Road by Moira Young you might see where I’m going but basically, there was a character who was able to read the stars and predict the future. (if you’re hoping the novel goes more into that i’m sorry-) So if we make Charles one of those people, then probably adds more depth to why he chose to work with Dethklok right? :D  Secret singer fic: I AM writing that one!! I just got sidetracked but God I’m gonna get back to it as soon as I can!! Basically for anyone else reading this, Charles and his friends put up a bet to see how difficult (or easy) it would be for Charles to become internet famous by having him post covers/original songs under an anonymous name. It becomes a chaotic mess when he gets more than he bargained for and does end up gaining some popularity, someone on the internet spreads the rumor the singer is someone famous, and a particular someone came across those songs and finds the lyrics almost a little too relatable. That fic where instead of Pickles being happy that Charles is back from the dead and they can live happily ever after, he becomes incredibly distressed and heartbroken because he ends up suffering major trauma. because seeing your bf ‘die’ all bloodied and mangled and coming back with only a scar and secrets he won’t tell you? That’s definitely years worth of therapy right there. That is like the only fic of this list even remotely close to finishing but God, definitely one of the most difficult to write- Fics where they met before/during Snakes N’ Barrels. I need to write one or two fics on that because I consider it canon. I’m sure I have mentioned drafting one or two fics like that?? Gotta look through my evernotes-

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I’m sorry but no my mind refuses to delve further- And i mean I’ve been digging Magnus/Charles lately and we all know how that wouldn’t last either so they’re meant for each other fjkdsfjlk

My happily ever after for them: The boys defeat Salacia, Charles and Pickles reunite and kiss for the first time in such a long time. They’re finally happy together and get to officially date (or continue where they left off). Charles is able to retire as the priest as his work is completed (or he manages to get it more public considering they saved the world so most likely it’d be a recognized religion) They get married, and when Dethklok officially retires, they buy a few houses, maybe even do music projects together or Charles takes over Crystal Mountain Records actually and Pickles helps out by being one of the music producers, they adopt a cat or dog or both, and just be happy with each other :D

[majesticmarais]

Happiest Place on Earth (II) | JA

So this is the second part to happiest place on earth, which I will link here, so read part 1 first if you haven’t already! I got a few requests to do a part 2! Hope you like it!!

Requested: yes

Warnings: Swearing probs

Summary: Y/N finds herself in LA, and decides to take Jack up on his offer to catch up after being broken up for over a year.

Word Count: 2000 (that was so satisfying to know)

A/N: I know I’ve had a lot of Jack imagines recently! I have a Jonah one in my drafts but I’m not sure if I want to post it. Leave me some requests!!

You had landed in LA at around 3pm. You had to fly in for a small YouTube conference since your channel had been growing more and more. Since you loved LA and missed living there, you decided to make it a week long trip, even though you were only needed there for a day.

After leaving the airport, getting into your uber, and driving 30 minutes, you had finally arrived at the hotel you would be staying at. You thanked the driver as you climbed out of the car, grabbing your luggage from the trunk. 

Once you checked in and reached your room, the first thing you did was flop face first onto the bed, closing your eyes for a few minutes and relaxing after the crammed flight.

You took your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and began scrolling through social media, posting a Snapchat quickly.

The thought of Jack flew through your mind quickly. It had been about a month since the two of you ran into each other at Disney world thanks to his little sister, Isla. He had mentioned the two of you getting together the next time you were in LA. You considered texting him and seeing if he was busy, but you shook the thought as you assumed he was simply trying to be nice to you at Disney.

You trotted to the hotel bathroom, your makeup bag in hand and began doing your makeup for the day since you hadn’t put any on for the plane ride here since you had gotten up way to early to have the energy to put it on.  As you were blending out your eyeshadow, your phone vibrated on the counter beside you, causing you to switch your eyeshadow brush into your other hand so you could pick up your phone.

To your surprise, you had a message from none other than Jack, asking if you were in LA. You had forgotten he still had you on Snapchat and most likely saw it there.

Yeah :), you answered, not putting the phone down as you waited for his response, assuming it would be fairly quick like his responses always used to be.

Why didn’t you tell me? Doing anything today?

Nothing specific!

I’ll come pick you up, we can hang out!

Sounds great!

You smiled to yourself and told Jack the hotel you were staying at before placing your phone back down on the counter to finish your makeup quickly. 

Soon enough, you got a text from Jack saying he was outside, so you grabbed your purse and shut the door behind you, speeding down to the lobby and out the front doors of the hotel to be met by none other than your favorite curly haired boy.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, greeting Jack as you both walked back to his car.

“What do you wanna do?” he asked.

“Ice cream?” you asked, raising your eyebrow playfully. When the two of you were dating, ice cream dates were always one of your favorite low maintenance things to do.

Jack began driving and the two of you switched between making small talk and singing to the songs playing on the radio.

You finally made it to one of your favorite ice cream shops. You had tried probably almost every single one in LA, and had narrowed it down to 2 that you both considered equally amazing.  You both stepped out of the car and walked in, Jack ordering for both of you, already knowing exactly what you wanted, which made you smile brightly without even realizing.

“Hope you didn’t change your order,” Jack laughed as he handed you your ice cream and you sat at your usual table.

“Nope, hasn’t changed!” you grinned, reaching into your purse for money. You handed the bill to Jack and he shook his head, telling you it was his treat. You knew he wouldn’t take it from you, so you didn’t argue and put it back in your purse.

After you guys talked about what you were doing in LA and what Jack and he boys had been up to, you had finally felt it was okay to ask a question you had been dying to know since you last saw him.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” you asked, keeping the smile on your face so it seemed friendly, not threatening.

“Nope, you?” Jack laughed, lifting his eyebrow.

“Good one, but no,” you chuckled, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

“I’m surprised. You’re so great I figured everyone would be chasing after you,” he winked, causing a blush to begin to form on your cheeks.

“You flatter me, Avery, but that is not the case,” you replied, shaking your head.

Sitting with Jack as you both laughed together and talked about anything and everything had made you feel the way you felt over a year ago, when you and Jack were inseparable. You felt like you were home again, with his sparkling brown eyes that had regained the brightness they had lacked the last time you saw him. The way you guys never felt weird around each other, and always had the best time.

Not a day went by that you didn’t think about Jack, and how much you missed him. You always tried hating him for leaving you, but all the good times, the memories, and most of all the love you had for him could never be masked or replaced by hatred. The only thing you could say was that you hated the fact that you still loved him just as much as you had when you first fell in love with him.

After staying there for a few hours just talking, you guys had decided you should probably leave. You asked if you could go back to the house with Jack to see the other boys again, and he happily agreed. You had wanted to surprise them, and you missed them.

Being with Jack had made you extremely close with all the other boys, but after your break up with Jack you shut them all out, feeling too hurt to talk to any of them. You had occasional conversations with them over social media, but you missed the close bond all of you used to share.

You felt extremely nostalgic as Jack drove up the hill to the house that you used to be in every single day. The home that housed so many memories from the best years of your life up until now.

Jack opened the door and you entered, sneaking into the lounge area where Jack claimed the boys would all be together. None of them noticed when you entered so you cleared your throat, causing all of their heads to flip in your direction simultaneously.

“Y/N?!” Corbyn exclaimed, jumping off the couch and running to you, squeezing you tightly.

“Hey Bean,” you smiled, hugging him back just as tight, tears slowly rising to your eyes out of happiness.

You hugged all the other boys, all of them surprised and ecstatic by the fact that you were back here after not seeing you for so long.

“We missed you so much!” Jonah gushed as he rested his chin on the top of your head like he always did.

“I missed you guys way more, fact,” you joked, pushing Jonah playfully.

Your heart felt full now that you were back here with the boys, your best friends that you had neglected out of heartbreak, you felt horrible about it, but that feeling was fleeting as you were so overwhelmed with joy.

After eating a huge amount of take out and watching movies together, you had ventured upstairs to go the bathroom. As you walked down the hall you stopped in front of the door that was once the door to your room in the house. It was originally a guest bedroom but since you had spent so much time here because of Jack and the boys, it had become yours.

You looked around to make sure no one was there, not that they would care, and gently opened the door, stepping into your room. 

The bed was still perfectly made, your grey and purple bed sheets left there. The closet was empty apart from the hangers you had left, but some paintings you had left were still hanging on the beige walls. The desk had remained as well, with two framed pictures of you and Jack still there, beginning to gather dust.

You walked over to the desk and picked up one of the picture frames, dusting it off with your hand and looking at it. It was from your birthday, it was a candid photo that one of the other boys had taken of you and Jack laughing together and looking at each other, and it had become one of your favorite pictures.

You heard the door creak behind you and turned around quickly, jumping slightly.

“Watcha doing?” Jack asked.

“Just wanted to see what my room looked like now,” you shrugged, the picture of you and Jack still firmly held in your hands.

“Not changed,” he smiled, looking around. It even still smelled slightly like you, I guess since it was basically untouched and unused ever since you moved out. 

You glanced down at the picture another time, and looked back up at Jack, your heart sinking to your stomach.

“Why did you leave me?” you asked quietly, not even sure if he would hear.

“W-what?” Jack stuttered, taking a step closer.

“We were so perfect together, so happy. We had everything going for us, Jack. Look at us even today, everything is so easy and fun when we’re together. Why did you leave me?” you repeated, the feelings of heartbreak flying back into your body, as if somehow the picture was making the feelings flow through you,

“Honestly, y/n, I can’t even give you a good answer,” he mumbled.

“Try,” you encouraged.

“I think I was just scared. I loved you too much and the thought of being so in love with someone so young terrified me. I thought that touring would make things hard, that I would mess up or the distance would get to us. I was selfish, and wanting to save myself before I got even more hurt in the long run.” he explained softly, averting my gaze just like he did on the day we broke up.

“You’re right, you were selfish,” you agreed, putting the frame back down on the desk. “I would have done anything for you, Jack. I didn’t care about distance, I was willing to work through everything because I loved you, and you threw me away for nothing.”

“I know. I regret it every day. If I could do that day over, I would, because being without you is so hard. You were my girlfriend and best friend,” he said.

“I tried so hard to get over you, but I love you too much. For some fucking reason I just love you so much and I wish I could make it stop because you don’t even want me anymore,” you said, a tear streaming down your cheek.

“You...you love me?” he asked, looking you in the eyes this time. You simply nodded.

“I never stopped loving you, y/n. I never stopped wanting you either, I just wanted to make things easier,” he explained, “but now I know it was the wrong decision.”

He took another step towards you and you could smell his cologne and hear his breathing. He leaned closer and gently pressed his lips against yours, causing your breath to hitch in your throat and your heart to race.

He pulled away and looked at you as a grin spread across your face.

“At the time I really believed that if you love something, or someone, you should set if free,” he said.

“And if it comes back, it’s yours,” you finished the saying, crashing your lips against Jack’s once more.

[nowaybutnorway]

Wow, it’s hard to believe that season that I hold so near and dear to my heart is already a year old.  About a year ago today I was in Norway, I had just started to expose myself to the Tumblr Survivor community and play some side seasons, but now it was time to try myself out in the big leagues of a main season, so I signed up for Season 39 and never looked back, and now as I look back about a year later from the time we started this season, I feel blessed to have gotten to be in a season with all of y’all, you are my og tumblr survivor fam, and I figured what better way to celebrate today than collect all my thoughts about my 19 fellow castaways and hosts. I’m in a starbucks right now so hopefully I don’t bust into tears, but then again that wouldn’t be new for this one, so let’s begin.

Laure-Now Laure was probably the only person that I had no interaction with over the course of the entire season, just because of how tribe divisions were set up and all, but learning that over time I was playing with a ts legend, it inspired my frail newbie heart to no end, so Laure, despite not knowing you, thanks a billion from this fanboy <3

Dani-OK so contrary to popular belief, Dani met her demise to due to EVERYTHING GOING WRONG FOR HER.  Originally the plan was to vote out Eric, then Eric won immunity, then the plan was Danielle, but she went to Exile, so Dani became the next best option, and it was so awkward because I remember being in the HOS11 house on call when the tribal happened and people were talking about how they loved Dani, and as the votes kept coming in, I was just sitting there watching people’s jaws drop and then after I had to say....sorry about that.  But it was clear you did not deserved what happened to you, you were sick and the Darian v Dylan fiasco was just a damn mess that culminated with your demise, but despite of what you may think of me, I feel your tribal where you left was crucial to how I play games now, so thanks babes.

Angela-WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS GIRL. Now people may think that my closest alliance mate was Brian or Stevie, but you guys never knew Angela like I did, we ironically made an alliance day 1 called the Trashy King and Queen, an alliance I would later replicate with Ting Ting in Myanmar, and it was honestly a god send because she was the one person on Lipari I could trust, and she was honestly the most fun to talk to because all the newbies were like cracked, while Angela and I just talked about arson and ate popcorn, it was great to have her in my life, and my snaps had never been more LIT.  Then came swap and Angela peaced out like the boss she is, probably because Grace never gave her cheesecake, anyways I digress. Angela you were one of my favorite newbies to play with and its always a pleasure to see you pop up on snapchat, ily and nothing can ever change my first ts alliance with you, long live our trashy mess <3.

Eric-OK so prior to playing TS I had never gotten on call for a game before, so when Eric called me to talk game, I had NO idea how to do anything, it was 20 minutes of awkward talking, but it was clear to know that we weren’t gonna align anytime soon, but you know in my delusional manner I thought I had totally played him.......yeah I wasn't smart then and I’m not smart now. We later swapped with Brian onto the Alicuidi tribe, and while I had hoped newbies could be strong...he targeted me, but thanks to the lovely Stevie and his ability to connect with the First Boots, I was saved and Eric left.  I’m not sure exactly what I did to mess up our relationship but I’m sorry, I’ll give you a hug if I’m ever in Mass....again.

Darian-I feel what I have to say about you and Dylan are around the same lines so I may say look above for previous comment when I write something for Dylan, but DARIAN OH DARIAN, to say you made that first tribal interesting is an understatement.  I feel you taught me what not to do in games, you made me realize it was probs a mistake to start an alliance on call or be the center of attention, but DANG you were entertaining to say the least and that was no understatement.  You left me as fast as you came into my life and your rivalry with Dylan was funny as you both went out back to back after targeting each other so hard the first tribal, you definitely made my ts introduction a memorable one so thanks <3.  And when we reconvened in Westeros, I will admit you had grown a little as a player despite what people think, not a lot, but a little.  I’ll never know what happened on Salina but your exit was a quick one, who knows, maybe another Mass visit is in my future and I can see you and Ashley together cause she my Myanmar homegirl.

Dylan-(see comment above for jist) Now a special place Dylan has in my heart that separates him from Darian is the fact he was the first person in TS I was shady with, basically talking about what the heck Darian was doing and how in any world that would make sense.  Sufficed to say much more shade would follow, but thanks.

Jason-OK we literally did not have more than a 30 minute conversation in the game, but we talked about CBB and tbh that was a quick way to my heart so thank you.  While we never met up on a tribe, we connected ever so slightly, and you actually are the first person I got to give me ts memorabilia with Jenny, Hector and Jordan when you guys sent me a post card, it was nice and sweet and it’ll be on my TS wall for enternity.  We also played The Amazing Race together twice....but there are certain things we don’t talk about like how I was a mess in TAR4 and y’all got eliminated 2nd in TAR AllStars.  I love ya and miss ya <3 

Dalton-I’m just going to start off and say my #favoriteDaltonMoment was when we just swapped onto alicuidi and we were just talking about the most random things, and I think it was with you how fvf3 was going to be like on Survivor when they’d bring back Baylor and Cirie and we’d jump into the fire at f4 with them just so they could win and all would be right with the world, it was random, but tbh randomness is one of my more favorite things and I love ya for it.

Nic W-NIC I GOT A FEW WORDS FOR YOU, FIRSTABLE, how are you, hope you’re partying somewhere or some junk, but wow, we spent a decent amount of time together pre-merge, but our time at merge certainly DID NOT LAST LONG.  You went out in a unanimous style, and famously called out Brian, Stevie and I, all for being fake to your face, which is kinda funny cause I’m pretty sure you inadvertently called out our trio on accident, and the rest of merge was a nightmare trying to convince everyone we weren’t a trio when it was very clear we were.....so party.  One of the last great callouts of the tag era, so thank you <3

Max-MY OG AUSTRALIAN BAE.  It was a dream for my entire adult life to have a best friend from Australia, but as I couldn’t find one in Norway, I settled for the next best option and found one online in you <3.  Now in memory I don’t think there was ever a point where we worked together and that was a mess in a hand basket, but you still were great in your own ways.  My favorite thing was when you compared everyone to people from Eurovision of that year and it was amazing so thanks.  You left a special place for Australia in my heart and every main season I played since then I had played with an Australian, and despite loving Jimmy with all my heart from All Stars, you will always be somewhere in my heart.

Danielle-Please call me out again for going on too much during my ftc speech because that has changed my performances quite a bit, I mean I’ve lost everytime I showed up in a ftc since this season....BUT STILL IT MEANT A LOT.  Personally it sucked because as soon as we started working together at merge, those bums voted you out and that began me feeling worse and worse in the game.  I still believe you had one of the best ftc moments of all time because you called every one out and I loved every moment.  Congrats on winning Crusade, you deserved it <3

Stevie-Words cannot personally describe how I actually feel about you, and I feel you know that Baevie.  You were the first connection I made on any Survivor season EVER.  You took me into this community and showed me so much.  You gave me my first idol, showed me my first alliance, and once I lost in Rakiura, you not only showed me Myanmar, which I won for myself and the draft for you (my faved loved one too btw), you also got me into this season.  Now at the time I didn’t know we would be playing together again, but when I saw your beautiful bearded face pop up in the cast announcement, I kid you not I jumped for joy in my Norwegian room, because that meant I was going to be playing with my best friend in the community again and I was excited as all get out.  You took me in under your wing on alicuidi and we wrecked havoc, we got some idols, and we did some idol plays at merge.  You graciously gave me an idol when I asked and were always there to help me...until ftc where you didn’t vote for me to win, but lets be real, my performance was a train wreck, you made the right choice.  Once the votes tied during the round we got the votes on JC, my heart dropped because that meant I would have to campaign against the person who mattered the most to me in the community and the pain I went through to muster up the strength to was unbearable but I did anyway, and I played my hardest as I knew you wanted me to do if you were there in my place.  You not only gave me so much in the game but so much in life, I’m not sure if I can ever make it up to you for how things played out during the season but I will sure as hell try, I love you Stevie, never change.  And thanks btw for letting me sleep with you, it was a great night ;)

Danny-DANNY OMG. K so firstable, I think you know when I say this I mean it, I GLUCKIN LOVE YOU.  You’re so funny and I love when you just pop up out of nowhere with several puns and its great and ily, but god, you were a terrifying force in that game because you could gather SO many people at merge it was ridiculous.  Your demise was also probably the move that I was proudest in my entire career and something I’m sure I could never replicate ever again, but dang was it fun.  I may not be able to go to six flags with you but I’ll be there in spirit forever, love ya.

Jenny-Jenny you’re probably one of my best friends to come out of this season, and that’s why I will always feel awful for how I organized your demise, but in retrospect you have to admit it was clever, not managed well but clever.  You sent me my first TS memorabilia, and I love it with all my heart, and whenever I come to you about my personal life, you’re always so happy to hear it and I lvoe you for it, and whenever I lose a season.......you’re kinda mean but to be fair I come to you crying about an online game, when its very clear MUCH worse has happened to more people so I’m sure that harshness is out of love so thank you.  You were probably the person I never thought of working with at merge because you not only sold me out at the beginning but you also voted me out when Stevie and I were tied to leave......but you also helped me pull off the Danny blindside so thank you, ily, and I can’t wait to see you come home and hopefully I get to see you for my TS birthday party.

Nick-NICK WITH A K, you were the last newbie to go out before ftc, and to be fair you were one of the most level headed people playing this game, and it was great to have someone who despite being amongst some of the most cracked people, could stay calm and semi-reasonable.  I look at your vote off as one of the biggest mistakes cause maybe had I voted off Van I would’ve won.....but at that point I had already pissed off most of the jury, plus I thought I could beat Van....OH HELL WAS I WRONG, but still, you made for a fun time and were a sound mind for me in the first tribal we went to as Lipari....cause god we didn’t need anymore crazy.

JC-next.....JUST KIDDING, you think I would dare forget about you, I could never.  You hold many special places in my heart.  You were the first to call me out during a challenge, but it was so entertaining in retrospect, you also tried organizing my demise at final 5, but watching your face and those of the other first boots drop when I won immunity after 1 question, thus ruining your predetermined plans, was PRICELESS, it was great to organize your demise after that because it almost felt like Karma, but after the season I could not love you more bae.  You may not have voted for me, but you are the only person from Aeolian I played with ever again, because we All Stars baby <3, now while we didn’t get to play together, it was still a blast to be reunited with an Aeolian bae again, and I’m sure we could’ve take that game....ok maybe not taken it, but still we could’ve rented it and had a good time, but alas no, only in our dreams.

John-John....I love you, you and I were like baes for the longest time now, and tbh I was about to vote you out in Myanmar because I was sketched out by you, but then Aeolian started and you and I were in a season together, and so that plan had to be re-routed to voting out Kylie, but YA KNOW. I could never not be blessed to have you in my life CoffeyCakes, you’re that important, you came to see me in Massachusetts and it was honestly a blast, partially cause you got to see me get voted out in All Stars but still.  Sitting next to you in FTC in Myanmar was one of my most favorite memories ever, and you’ll always be near and dear to me <3

Brian-Literally what can I say about you besides being the best purchase I ever made on ebay tbh (that one’s for you JC <3) but in all seriousness at the beginning of the season, I never thought I could ever meet someone like you, you seemed to always be there for me and we became brothers in a sense, we went through the entire season, we played our way from the bottom, every move that I made during Aeolian, you were there, by my side throughout all of it, almost not the Danny move, but that told me I had to play the idol so thanks bae.  You not only were my confidant this season, but through so much of my life afterwards, we still stay in contact even after a year has passed, and I could not be happier to be honest.  Yes you maybe messy, but you’re my mess and I wouldn’t have you any other way babes.  I’m happy you won Lazio, and if anyone tells you otherwise they’re lying.  You were my rock and I hope you stay in my life for many years to come babes, I hope everything goes your way.

Van-Now to one of the most important people in the season tbh.  Now when we first met, I never thought in a million years I would lose to you.....and I was honestly pissed when I found out that hey, that was gonna happen, but that was in the moment and I feel we were both heated at that moment, but you know what, I’ve learned the value of your game and that is one of the most impressive that I’ve ever witnessed to be honest.  Your game reminded me of Michelle from Kaoh Rong, and if you were Michelle, I was Aubrey I think.....I could also be dreaming, but your social game was that on point and it was bloody impressive and I love it.  You earned your win and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, because it was amazing.  I one day hope to achieve your level of sociability and unlock my innerVan as you say to me whenever I begin to play a new season...that I later flop in but that’s besides the point, you’re an inspiration, a lovely person and iconic and I love you so much <3

And finally our hosts for the season Grace, Ryan and Intern turned mom Emma, y’all took a chance on me that Bora Bora never gave me and gave me a random chance to shine and I could not be more grateful, through this season I met such an important family, but I was also able to accomplish moves that I don’t think I could ever do again.  You introduced me into a community that holds such a close place in my heart and I could not thank you guys enough for it.

So in the end thank you Aeolian Islands, though you were hell to get through, you gave me a family, and a community, and I’m forever grateful.  Thanks for making me a favorite in Myanmar and an All Stars, you mean the world <3  Happy Anniversary, and Gratulerer Med Dagen

-Fra Steffen Reals

[theconservativebrief]

Michael Cohen is willing to tell special counsel Robert Mueller that President Trump approved of a 2016 Trump Tower meeting in which Russians offered “dirt” on Hillary Clinton, sources told CNN on Thursday.

Cohen is not the most credible person in the world, so we’ll have to wait and see if his account is corroborated. But if Cohen’s story turns out to be true, it will likely strengthen the obstruction case that special counsel Robert Mueller is building against Trump. And that case was already quite strong.

Last July, the Washington Post published a report claiming that President Trump instructed his son Donald Trump Jr. to release a misleading statement about the Trump Tower meeting. According to that report, President Trump “personally dictated” a response that intentionally omitted key facts about the meeting — namely that it was set up to get dirt on Hillary Clinton and, as Donald Jr.’s email thread demonstrated, that the information was “part of Russia and its government’s support for Mr. Trump.”

After the report was released, I reached out to 12 law professors and asked them about the potential legal implications. The overwhelming consensus was that if Trump did dictate false statements about his son’s meeting in order to deceive the public and throw off investigators, it would add to a growing mountain of evidence that points to a broader cover-up.

Their full responses, lightly edited for clarity and style, are below.

Asha Rangappa, associate dean, Yale Law School

Ordering subordinates to lie in an ongoing federal investigation can indeed be grounds for obstruction of justice, and an agreement to go along with such a policy could be a conspiracy to obstruct or defraud the United States. However, in my experience, an FBI agent’s best friend in these circumstances is 18 USC 1001, which makes it a crime — even if you are not under oath — to knowingly misrepresent a material fact in any matter within the jurisdiction of the government of the United States.

False statements and obstruction of justice can often go hand in hand, but from a prosecutor’s point of view it’s easier to prove false statements because you only need to show that the person acted “knowingly and willfully,” rather than “corruptly,” which is the intent requirement for obstruction (and harder to prove). Also, it’s pretty easy to catch someone in a lie. Usually, all the FBI needs to do is simply show up (often unexpectedly), and start asking questions, and sooner or later the subject — particularly one who is, say, trying to protect their boss — will dig themselves into a hole.

What the president has done in allegedly dictating a false statement about his son’s meeting with the Russians is to expose everyone who was present to questioning by Mueller’s team about what they saw and heard during that discussion. If they lie and get caught, they’ll be looking at jail time: Each false statement carries a penalty of up to five years in prison, and those can add up quickly.

At that point, Mueller will have the leverage to offer immunity from prosecution if they provide information on other topics or individuals of interest to him in the Russia investigation. In short, a “policy of dishonesty” within the White House would be an investigative jackpot for Mueller and the cases he is building, and if there is such a policy, the latest news gives him yet another chance to exploit it.

Joshua Dressler, law professor, Ohio State University

Assuming the report proves accurate — that is, that the president dictated the original explanation, one that proved to be inaccurate or at least misleading — the question becomes whether he was aware that it was inaccurate. Did he know about the trail of emails demonstrating that the purpose for the meeting really was to get “dirt” on Clinton? It is hard to believe he was unaware of this. And the fact that he chose to dictate the statement rather than have his son be transparent in reporting the incident suggests he knew what he was doing.

Based on that assumption, I definitely consider this another basis for the claim that the president was seeking to obstruct the investigation. The report most certainly justifies, again, an investigation of the president and not merely his son, son-in-law, and present and former members of his campaign and administration.

Susan Low Bloch, law professor, Georgetown University

Giving a statement that misleads the public about what the meeting was about suggests that those making the statement are trying to cover up the true purpose of the meeting — which we now know from Trump Jr.’s emails was to get dirt on Hillary from the Russians in order to help Trump win the election.

But we don’t know what the president knew when he drafted the misleading statement for his son. Specifically, we don’t know if Junior was misleading his father or whether his father was trying to mislead us, the public. If the president was deliberately trying to mislead us and trying to hide the fact that he knew the Russians were aiming to help him win the election, that adds to the evidence that Mueller is collecting concerning Trump collusion with the Russians.

We know that Mueller is investigating the June 2016 meeting, and Trump’s helping to draft a misleading statement for his son is evidence that Mueller will undoubtedly find informative. It adds to the suggestion that there is a deliberate intent to mislead and cover up both the meeting and Russian collaboration generally.

“In short, a policy of dishonesty within the White House would be an investigative jackpot for Mueller and the cases he is building.” —Asha Rangappa, associate dean, Yale Law School

Jed Shugerman, law professor, Fordham University

The clearest case for Trump’s obstruction of justice was firing [FBI Director James] Comey, because Trump himself admitted as much (to Lester Holt on NBC, to [Russian Foreign Minister Sergei] Lavrov and [now-former Russian Ambassador to the US Sergey] Kislyak in the Oval Office). There is nothing illegal about lying in itself, but this latest news adds to the growing mountain of evidence of a cover-up and “corrupt” intent required by the obstruction statute.

But this news also raises a question: If President Trump was drafting responses — and changing his son’s own response — about what happened in the meeting, doesn’t that at least suggest he knew much more about the meeting than he had suggested? “Collusion” is not a crime, but conspiracy to hack computers is a felony. See the 1986 Computer Fraud and Abuse Act.

Christopher Slobogin, law professor, Vanderbilt University

Probably the most relevant federal statute is the false statement statute, which prohibits knowingly making a false statement about a matter material to an investigation by a federal agency. The prosecution would have to show Trump’s statement was false, that he knew it was false or chose not to learn about its falsity and declared it with the intent to deceive.

The government would also have to show the statement was “material” to a federal investigation — that is, that it might influence such an investigation, although it need not show investigators were actually influenced, nor that Trump knew it might be material to their investigation. And conspiracy to obstruct occurs if Trump agreed with his son to make such false statements.

So the key question is: Did Trump or his son intend to hide the fact that it involved a meeting about the subject matter of Mueller’s investigation by making a statement they knew to be false? The statement says the meeting was “primarily” about adoption, and does not specifically state it had nothing to do with gleaning confidential information about the Democrats from people associated with the Russian government.

“There is nothing illegal about lying in itself, but this latest news adds to the growing mountain of evidence of a cover-up and ‘corrupt’ intent required by the obstruction statute.” —Jed Shugerman, law professor, Fordham University

Jens David Ohlin, law professor, Cornell University

By itself it’s not a crime to lie to the public, though in the past it’s something that’s come with some political risk. Whether that’s still the case is uncertain. Legally, the president’s attempt to dictate his son’s response may be probative (meaning it constitutes evidence) as to motive in an obstruction of justice case developed by Mueller.

In other words, if an obstruction of justice charge is based on the theory that Trump wanted to shut down the Russia investigation, and to do so corruptly, then the recent revelation might help show — if there was any doubt — that Trump wants and needs to downplay his campaign’s involvement with Russia. It’s one piece of the troubling mosaic that Mueller is likely assembling.

Samuel Gross, law professor, University of Michigan

When we speculate about investigations from afar, we often speak of “smoking guns,” but most trials don’t involve them. Legal claims are usually proven by compiling many incidents and details that together reveal a clear pattern. As [University of Texas Law School] Dean Charles McCormick wrote in 1954, “A brick is not a wall.” On its own, this new item may not prove much, but it’s another brick that could someday be part of a wall that proves obstruction of justice.

Stephen Schulhofer, law professor, New York University

Lying to the public or encouraging others to lie to the public is not in itself a crime. But if President Trump dictated or participated in drafting Trump Jr.’s misleading account of the June meeting (that qualification is important; news reports to that effect are attributed to anonymous sources), those actions might become relevant in a criminal prosecution.

It would be crucial to show, first, whether the president knew the account to be disseminated publicly was false. The published news reports do not (yet) claim that he did. If the president knowingly helped disseminate a false or misleading account of the June meeting, those actions still would not, in themselves, constitute obstruction of justice, a charge that requires proof of intent. Such actions, however, could become very relevant toward proving intent to obstruct by interfering with Mueller’s investigation.

The misleading public account could have been intended to obstruct by diverting investigative attention away from that meeting, though you would have to be very naive to think that Mueller’s investigators could be so easily diverted. More likely, such actions could be evidence of a strategy to help participants in the June meeting coordinate their stories, so that they don’t contradict each other when called to testify under oath or even when interviewed by the FBI, because lying to the FBI is a crime in this situation even when not under oath.

Lastly, the news reports suggest not only the possibility of obstruction on the president’s part but the distinct crime of conspiracy to obstruct on the part of the group that discussed and finalized the misleading public account. If the necessary knowledge and intent are present, those who participated could be guilty of conspiracy to obstruct, and then the president himself could be guilty of additional crimes such as perjury or lying to the FBI committed by his co-conspirators in furtherance of the cover-up conspiracy.

“On its own, this new item may not prove much, but it’s another brick that could someday be part of a wall that proves obstruction of justice.” —Samuel Gross, law professor, University of Michigan

Victoria Nourse, law professor, Georgetown University

First, in the court of public opinion (where it really matters): Trump can no longer do what [President Ronald] Reagan did and deny personal knowledge. The public basically “pardoned” Reagan even if his associates were indicted. Will they pardon someone who appears to be personally cultivating a pattern of deception? Doubtful, but that’s a political judgment.

Second, in a court of law: Conspiracy to commit murder does not require murder any more than conspiracy to obstruct justice requires actual obstruction of justice. We don’t know whether there is an agreement here between Trump, his son, and his son-in-law to obstruct justice (the investigation of Russia allegations), but Trump said he fired Comey for that reason, and now he seems to be working with others to deceive the public about meetings with the Russians. If I were a prosecutor, I would sure think that was evidence of obstruction and an intent to obstruct.

Keith Whittington, politics professor, Princeton University

Although issuing misleading or false statements to the media relating to the Russia probe seems like a stretch for a prosecution of a president for obstruction of justice, it certainly poses difficulties for the White House. It gives further evidence that the president has committed himself to a Clintonian strategy of impeding and undermining the investigation as much as possible.

To the extent that the president seems to be personally involved in developing strategies to mislead the public and members of Congress (at best) on how his presidential campaign interacted with representatives of the Russian government, this should hardly be reassuring to legislators assessing his level of cooperation with the Mueller probe.

Miriam Baer, law professor, Brooklyn Law School

The incident provides yet another data point on the president’s state of mind. That the president would dictate his son’s statement to the press — and do so in a misleading and evasive manner — demonstrates his interest in and attempt to control the situation.

The president can certainly offer his own reasons for why he did so, but the conduct provides additional evidence of a culpable state of mind. It isn’t the only evidence, and it isn’t even the most important piece of evidence, but it certainly is relevant, and it suggests additional avenues of inquiry.

Diane Marie Amann, law professor, University of Georgia

Whether an elected official’s lies — uttered himself, or by another at his direction — amount to the federal crime of obstruction of justice hinges on intent. If the liar’s purpose is to hinder a criminal investigation, then, yes, lies may violate the law. That purpose may be proved not only by the official’s own admission but also, circumstantially, by treating the lies as one link in a chain of evidence of illegal intent. In a given case, other links might include firing a top law enforcement officer, or refusing to hand over documents sought by investigators. But there may be a catch: It is not clear whether Mueller’s investigation is a “proceeding” as required by 18 USC § 1505, a key obstruction statute.

Acts that do not meet a precise statutory definition still may place an elected official in jeopardy. The Constitution allows impeachment for “high crimes and misdemeanors,” a phrase understood to encompass more than felonies defined by Congress. Obstruction thus was alleged without mention of statutes in the articles of impeachment that the House approved against President Clinton (whom the Senate chose not to convict).

Such proceedings, as Yale Law Professor Charles Black indicated in his 1974 Impeachment: A Handbook, would focus on how lies affect the integrity of the government; that is, the integrity of the laws the president has sworn to faithfully execute. The inquiry might have the feel of policy, yet it is authorized by the highest law in the land. In Black’s words: “Impeachment is a matter of law, foursquare and all the way, and lawyers must run the process, as surely as doctors must run the operating room.”

Original Source -> Did the president obstruct justice? I asked 12 legal experts.

via The Conservative Brief

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

I reread the post about your favorite characters/ relationships and I realized that we pretty much have the same favorite characters and relationships 😄 always nice to meet someone who shares the same opinions and thoughts as yourself. I also read your post about Ope and Jax’s friendship and you had some very good thoughts and you explained their relationship very well. Thank you!

I’m glad you sent another ask, because I made a post in my drafts answering all of your asks so I could post them all in one response, but then like an idiot I deleted all of your asks forgetting I needed to answer one of them with the post I’d made from my drafts haha.

So just to let you know, in this response, I’ll answer all of the asks you’ve sent, so this is gonna be a long one.

Yeah, I remember that we had a lot in common from before and I was surprised because I have some weird preferences when it comes to ships and favourite characters etc. so it’s great to speak with someone that shares similar views.

And I’m glad I gave you some insight into Jax and Opie’s relationship. I always think it’s interesting to hear someone speak about a character/relationship you don’t like or understand to see what others see in them.

This response is to when you asked me to expand on Gemma and Jax’s relationship and my comment on them being the biggest love story on the show in a way (sorry the question got deleted so I couldn’t copy and paste it).

When it comes to Gemma and Jax’s relationship, it’s probably one of the only main relationships that was introduced in the pilot and remained a central aspect of the show until the finale.

I think because a lot of the time Gemma was manipulating Jax and trying to control him, people probably dislike their relationship or perceive it as toxic, which it was, but it was still a very loving relationship. There’s an endless list of things I can drag Gemma for, but how much she loved her son isn’t one of them. I don’t necessarily think she was a good mother given everything she did to him, but I do think she loved him with all her heart and soul. She was just so messed up that she didn’t know how to be a decent mother. Jax was different in that respect and he always seemed to understand that his sons shouldn’t be growing up in the outlaw life, he wanted better for them and in the end he died with that being his final wish. He just wanted them to get out of Charming and escape the life he led but for Gemma it’s like all she wanted for Jax was for him to be president of SAMCRO and a big bad tough guy that goes around killing and being the most powerful man of them all. I’m not saying Jax didn’t want that too, because we all know he did, he spoke about the fact that all he wanted since he was a kid was to have a Harley and a khut. But it never sat right with me that Gemma was always pushing him deeper into the club and wanting him to be more criminal, more cold.  

I think a big part of why Gemma and Jax were so close had a lot to do with JT and Thomas. Gemma lost her young son and that’s a pain that no one but a parent who has also suffered that can understand. It’s natural that she would cling to Jax and keep him closer and I really think that’s why she sought to control his life so much - she was terrified of losing him. And for Jax, losing JT meant that he grew closer with Gemma as his only remaining parent. When a family of four goes down to a family of two, it’s to be expected that the remaining two are going to appreciate each other in a new way and bond in an even deeper way.

They had a very complex bond whereby Jax really looked to Gemma to be his constant support. Again, I think it’s taken forgranted that Jax probably wouldn’t have made it through all his hardships without Gemma. He seemed to draw a strength from her and particularly when it came to doing the harder things, Gemma was the one that pushed him. That’s not necessarily a good thing, because often she would have been pushing him to murder or hurt someone, but from Jax’s POV he had to do those things and Gemma made sure he did.

In a way Gemma loved Jax too much and that’s what got her killed. When she killed Tara in the sickest and most twisted way, it was an act of love. She believed Tara had betrayed them, betrayed Jax and she just lost it. If that had been any other person besides Tara and she hadn’t of betrayed Jax, I honestly don’t believe Gemma would’ve gone to the extremes she did. But because Tara was Jax’s wife, she couldn’t let that betrayal go and she went full-blown mama bear mode. I don’t think she was thinking of the consequences of her actions, she was only thinking, “You hurt my son and I will make sure you never get to do that again.” Of course, it doesn’t justify what she did at all and it’s the one thing I will never forgive Gemma for of all the awful things she did, but the point remains that she did commit that murder because of the twisted and intense love she had for Jax.

For Jax, I think his love for Gemma was pretty similar to the love most of us have for our mother’s. He knew of her flaws but he accepted and loved her because she was his mom. He probably relied on her more than most adult men would be expected to, but I put that down to Gemma wanting to do that rather than Jax needing it - although I do think he needed it too. I mentioned it before, but that whole conversation with Nero about Gemma in the finale breaks my heart everytime and it’s so easy to sympathise with Jax even having never been in a position like that. Here’s his mother, the one woman he’s supposed to trust no matter what, the one who is supposed to protect him and do best by him and she’s murdered his wife in cold blood and now he has to kill her. And whilst he loathes her for what she’s done, he cannot help but still love her because she’s his mother and the thought of killing her breaks him. It’s made clear that after killing her Jax wouldn’t be able to go on living and I think that’s very telling of how much he loved Gemma.

“ she stayed with him as long as he was president and had his power, but the second it started to wane, she abandoned him because he was no longer of any use to her. Again, I think she genuinely loved him, but her relationship with Clay was a lot to do with the power he had and how she could control him to get the best use out of that. She seemed to be obsessed with tough and powerful men” Agreed. But what about Gemma/Nero? Nero is sort of everything Clay isn’t and different than JT too I assume

I think that Gemma and Nero was a relationship that happened because Nero was everything Clay wasn’t. After the drama and heartbreak she went through with Clay, she didn’t want that again and I think she knew she would never get to that point with Nero.

At the beginning of the series Gemma wouldn’t have looked at a man like Nero twice, but after what she went through she needed a man like him that was more relaxed, kind and gentle. I think the love she had with Nero was much more nurturing and she needed that, particularly since she was in her 50′s. What woman at that age wants to be caught in a turbulent and unstable relationship? It’s too tiring and no one that’s middle aged is going to want that. But I do think that Gemma didn’t love Nero as much as she loved Clay. That could just be down to the amount of time she knew Clay in comparison to Nero, but I think it’s that typical cliche of bad boy vs good boy. Clay was the bad boy, he was dangerous and violent, strong and passionate and he challenged Gemma and kept her on her toes, which is what she loved. Gemma wouldn’t have wanted to be with someone like Nero in the beginning, she would’ve needed more excitement than that. But I think when someone has had that kind of relationship and it’s gone bad, it drives the person to seek a partner that’s at the opposite end of the spectrum - someone that they trust to remain level-headed, who will care for them and just love them in a simple way. That’s what Nero was for Gemma and I think that’s why she fell for him so quickly.

Since we never saw JT on-screen or his relationship with Gemma, it’s hard to imagine what he was like as a husband and the nature of their relationship. But Gemma did say that JT was the love of her life and part of me believes that. The thing is with Gemma, just because she had an affair with Clay and plotted with him to kill JT, it doesn’t mean she stopped loving JT. Look at what she did with Clay, she betrayed him and set him up to be killed when she still loved him. For Gemma love wasn’t the most important thing, power was. If JT was weak and Clay was strong, she would’ve gravitated to Clay regardless of how much she loved JT in her heart. I actually think from things we heard about JT he was probably a balance between Nero and Clay. He seemed very sensitive and passionate like Jax, but that he also had a temper and violent streak. It’s hard for me to separate JT and Jax in my mind in terms of their personality, because their characterisation is so similar. Gemma even says to Jax, “I loved your dad. More than than I’ve loved any man. Great lay. Smart. Big heart. And very complicated. Sound familiar?”

As I said, it’s hard to gauge exactly how Gemma felt about JT since we never really saw them as a couple, but I think she definitley loved him very deeply and that of the three main relationships we knew her to have - JT, Clay and Nero - JT was probably the balance between Clay and Nero. But what I said in the first ask about her obsession with power is something you see in all of her relationships. Though we can say that Nero was the least violent and softest of the three men she loved, he still had a certain authority and strength. He had his own business, he knew how to handle himself and I think Gemma recognised that he had a different kind of strength that was inward. Just because he didn’t go around beating up every single person that ever crossed him, didn’t mean he wasn’t strong and powerful. In fact, it probably means he was more so in comparison to Clay who was so insecure and afraid of losing his power that he used violence to try and keep hold of it.

“in season 5 he attacked Wendy and injected her with drugs, something that was actually one of the most disgusting things he could’ve done in my eyes.” I agree! I honestly Jax for doing that or I hated that he did it. I also don’t really get the hatred he has for her when she comes back in season4, (I mean I understand that he’d have some hard feelings towards her for almost killing Abel) But when she went off to rehab in season 1, they were on pretty good terms with each other

Ditto. I love Jax, but I honestly couldn’t believe that he did that. I’m not trying to place the blame at Tara’s door, because Jax made the choice to do that himself but I think he definitely did it because of Tara. Tara was the one that had raised Abel, she was the woman Jax loved and she reacted so negatively to Wendy’s return. And I think his fierce protectiveness over her and his family meant he saw Wendy as a threat to that and reacted in the way he usually would to anyone else that was a threat to him. He didn’t seem to really take the time to think about what he was doing or how important Wendy was as Abel’s mother. And the way he treated her in the later seasons was a million miles away from how he behaved in season 5. In season 1 he loved and respected her and he wasn’t even really angry with her about what happened with Abel because he understood she was an addict that needed help and he actually placed the blame on himself because he felt he should’ve been there for her, which is true. In season 7 he reverted back to that and he seemed to have such a deep respect and love for her as his ex-wife, friend, family and mother of his child. I just don’t understand why he went to those extremes in season 5. Wendy did get a little ruthless in season 5 in her pursuit of Abel, but she’s a mother that just wanted to be involved in her child’s life. She actually went to Tara first out of consideration to talk to her about it and in reality, why should Wendy have to do that? Yes, Tara had been raising Abel, but Wendy was still his mother and Abel was her baby. She had every right to want to be in his life and I don’t think she was unreasonable at all. But like I said in the ask before, I don’t understand why Jax took to injecting her, when he could’ve just worked something out. Wendy would’ve been happy just to be able to have visitation rights, to be able to pop round the house and see him a few times a week and maybe take him out to the park or something. But it was just easier for Jax to get her out of the picture and that’s why he did it.

“As vice president it was easy for him to criticise and question Clay’s decisions, because he wasn’t the one in charge with everyone looking to him to keep things together. But when he was president he soon realised that actually most of the decisions Clay made were necessary and that sometimes you have to do the worst things imaginable to keep control.” Do you think Jax ended up as bad as Clay? Or even worse than Clay?

Hm, this is a hard question to answer. I think he 100% ended up as bad a Clay, but I don’t know whether he was worse. I feel like if I sat and tallied up every single bad thing they both did, Jax would probably have a longer list. However, my instinct is to say Jax wasn’t worse than Clay because I always saw his humanity no matter how dark her got, whereas with Clay most of the time I saw not even a shred of compassion in him. I also think the fact that Jax identified he’d changed for the worst and got in too deep in some ways makes him better than Clay. Clay kept on manipulating and fighting for his power until the end, but Jax didn’t. He could see how evil he’d become and he knew that he was toxic for his sons and everyone he loved, so he took himself out of the equation.

So I suppose I can argue Jax wasn’t as bad as Clay, even in the later seasons, but deep down I know that isn’t true. It would be impossible for me to recall every single bad thing Jax did off the top of my head, but I know he did a hell of a lot things. But more than that, he just became more like Clay in the way he handled conflict and threats. As I said, in season 1 he felt guilt and remorse for killing Kohn, yet in season 6 he killed Venus’ mother without hesitation. Clay was always like that - he acted immediately. If he saw that someone was a prick or a threat to the club, he would kill them without even blinking, but Jax wasn’t naturally like that. He always tried to find other solutions and sought for a way that didn’t have to resort to killing. The example with Wendy is again a very good one in this instance. He would’ve never have reacted to Wendy pursuing Abel by injecting her in the early seasons, that’s something Clay would’ve done. Clay is the man that beat on his wife, something Jax would have never have done, something he believed was unthinkable, yet he attacked Wendy and Ima in the later seasons.

I definitley think Jax became a lot like Clay in his presidency. He wanted to be president so badly because he wanted to implement change, but personally, I saw his leadership as being very similar to Clay’s. I think the only difference was that Jax had more established friendships with the others in the club which meant they respected and cared for him more, whereas Clay was their president and they knew it.

We both love Jax dearly, but what’s your take on Charlie Hunnam as an actor? From an objective point of view? Also have you seen him in something else than SONS? And since we talked about characters and how you were pretty neutral about the other characters, which actors do you think had the “best vs weakest” present on screen? I.e. I don’t think Theo Rossi (who played Juice) is a bad actor, but I think Juice was pretty flat as a character, he wasn’t really relevant until season 7 either…

When it comes to Charlie, I actually haven’t seen him in anything other than SOA, so I feel like I can’t really comment too much on his acting. I mean, it’s amazing on SOA, but often I’ve seen actors take on big roles in a TV series and thought they were fantastically talented, but then watched them in something else and realised they had no versatility. So even though Charlie was great as Jax, there’s a possibility that since that was his biggest and longest role he came to learn how to play that character perfectly, but isn’t necessarily good at playing different characters. But if I’m basing this just on his acting on SOA, I think he’s fantastic. Part of the reason I love Jax is because he feels like a real person and a lot of that is because of Charlie’s acting. The facial expressions he uses, the way he walks and talks, is all unique to Jax and if you’ve ever watched Charlie in interviews you realise just how much he worked on those small details to really make Jax a completely individual character with his own personality and mannerisms. 

There were quite a mix of actors in terms of ability. None stand out as being bad, I think generally the show had a very strong cast. When I think about actors that just owned it whenever they were on-screen and who held my attention I’d say, Charlie (obviously), Ron, Katey, Maggie and Walton come to mind. So for me, those are the best even if I don’t necessarily love the characters they played (e.g. I didn’t like Tara but appreciate that Maggie is very talented). But all of those actors were given great material to work with so that is probably a factor in how good their performances were. 

With the weaker actors, it’s hard to know whether it is weak acting or whether the characters are just poorly written, which is something you pointed out with Theo and Juice. Theo is definitely the one that comes to mind when I think of weak performances. I just didn’t notice him at all and even in season 7 when he had the whole plot with covering up Tara’s murder, I didn’t find him captivating as an actor or character. The SOA fandom on here isn’t huge, but from what I see Juice is a very popular and well loved character and personally, I just don’t see where that comes from because I found it impossible to connect with him. I also had the same issue with Mark (Bobby). But I wouldn’t say it’s bad acting, Bobby is a character that just wasn’t really given much to work with. He was always just there in the background, he occasionally gave one of the boys a pep talk but that was it. Tommy (Chibs) and Kit (Tig) had better stuff to work with as they had some emotional scenes which showcased they had an ability to show some more depth. But again, neither of them particularly captured me as actors. Chibs was a nice, funny guy but I never felt a particular connection to him and as you know from reading my most and least fave characters, I don’t like Tig at all. Even Ryan (Opie), doesn’t stand out to me as being a fantastic actor even though Opie had quite a lot of storylines over the season. I don’t think he really brought much depth to Opie, but through the writing there was definitely the opportunity for Ryan to deepen Opie’s character. So perhaps when it comes to Ryan it was weak acting. 

[briinleyisms]

LMAO HEY MTV IT’S MARCY WELCOME 2 MY CRIB

“LMAO” AKA “ ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) #squadgoals”

ok so lowkey have had this muse for like ten years (ive been rping since i was seven fucking beat me) but every rp i bring her 2??? drops after like??? five days likE LISTEN THAT IS NOT HOW U RUN A RP LISTEN!!! UP!!! PUT UR BACK INTO IT!!!

anyhoW ok unlike ivan since i was still figuring out his bg w rosie when i posted his ‘intro’ i actually got brinley figured out and there’s a long version and a short version. imma put the tl;dr up here ok bc the non-tl;dr is overwhelming. personality is like.... toTALLY POINTLESS WHO CARES ABT PERSONALITY but it’s at the bottom i guess :\

TL;DR:

ok basically she was born into a death cult in aliso viejo, california (tbh i just looked up rural places in ca and chose the most recently established one i could find lmao) called ‘the children of the revelation’ bc im extra. lots of fear-mongering revolving around the idea of The End of Days™. leader was a total prophet and totally abused his prophet power. planned out ritual for end of days was lowkey highkey terrifying (‘let’s go die in the river of miracles’!!!!!! [too extra help me]) and one of the ‘apostles’ was like ‘i quit’ and left iN THE DEAD OF NIGHT!!! and lowkey basically kidnapped a few ppl including BUT NOT LIMITED TO brinley and they wound up in hillsboro and ‘apostle luke’ eventually left and now she’s in the oikos house. fin.

also sik tattooz bro.

ACTUAL VERSION THAT IS LONG(ER):

TW: cult (ofc), death, violence

firST it’s of note that i considered being rly fucking extra by putting quotations around her name bc her birth name is genesis like the book of revelations which brings me 2

my Extra™ title for this cult: “The Children of the Revelation”

so it was like a commune located in some place in CA that’s apparently rural and has only recently been established called ‘aliso viejo’ and lmao watch one of yall live there

but yeAH OK commune not just a church like the church of scientology like full on “u chose this life time 2 prove ur dedication”

alright so just full disclosure that i really really want to get this right and i know no one who has ever been in a cult (let alone a death cult) and i myself have not (as is likely expected) so i have already done research but i plan on doing like 100x more since this is a really serious subject. serious to the point that i’m not even using text slang (although i will when i get on with the intro post i just gotta).

anyhoW w that info out of the way time 2 get 2 the actual like point of the cult

first of all her mom joined the cult before she was born (ofc) and she was the gift!!! between her mom and one of the leader’s ‘apostles’!!!

so!!! 

basically: “lmao ur not leviticus enough 4 us.” (probs their slogan)

ok but obviously that’s scratching the surface like the real fuckery lied w/in two thing:

literal death cult (will get to that)

also doomsday cult

which sometimes go hand-in-hand anyhow

ok so the doomsday thing is what was more prominent in her life since she was 16 when she #escaped and never rly disobeyed (so many things 2 get 2!!!)

the leader’s name was ezekiel (cheever this is actually salem circa 1690) and he perceived himself as a prophet and naturally.... had prophecies. one of the most prominent ones was that the rapture would occur at 11:59PM on December 24th, 2011 (take away four days and add a year and u got the end of the world according 2 misconceptions abt the mayan calendar!)

the idea was that if u obeyed what ezekiel told u 2 do (he believed he was the fourth reincarnation of christ) u would end up going 2 heaven on judgment day but if u disobeyed...... yikes.

it depended on the magnitude of the ‘crime’ but for the most part if u disobeyed more than two times u were killed. u were hung or drowned and u were made an example of.

if u disobeyed less than two times and ur ‘offense’ wasnt worthy of immediate death dw!!! u can scrape by w torture!!! and also be made an example of!!!

so basically u were at ezekiel’s beck and call. every little bit of labor he asked u 2 do was like.......... if u didnt do it yiKES!!! ofc children werent expected 2 perform any laborious tasks rather just 2 listen and take in everything ezekiel and his apostles told them.

his ‘apostles’ who (as u can infer) served as his right-hand men were the fathers 2 all the children who would be born inside the cult. they kept ppl in line. they taught the kids when ezekiel was busy. those sorta things u kno???

ok so imma skip over some of the details that are like.... worse??? like theyre all bad but like these are the things i j feel like shouldnt be brought up in an intro post but theyre in the hella long rough-draft bio here that i went ahead and put up for this purpose rly

SO THAT BEING SAID THIS WAS SORTA A WAY 2 SHOW THE SORTA ENVIRONMENT SHE WAS RAISED IN AND IT SOUNDS FUN AND I WOULD LOVE 2 BE A PART OF IT.

so ok imma try 2 make this next part go quicker

basically the ‘judgment day’ was closing in and ezekiel’s plans were rly like no thank u ( (TW: SUICIDE) ’hey guys! 2 make sure we get into heaven not only do u have 2 follow all of my commands since im jesus’s fourth reincarnation but we all also have 2 walk into a river with rocks in our pockets at the time the world is supposed 2 scorch with hell’s fire!’ (END TW) fun christmas activities for u and ur bae.

as it started closing in it was basically all ezekiel talked abt during his ‘sermons’ like wtf??? what a church service.

‘apostle luke’ (i hate myself) was like “ok..... ok the more u talk abt this the less believable it sounds..... like wtf jesus’s fourth reincarnation??? pics or it didnt happen.” and after some months he wound up concocting this plan 2 #escape bc honestly??? 

so he eventually eSCAPED in the deAD OF NIGHT and basically kidnapped ppl like ok sure luke

one of said ppl was brinley which i kno is unexpected. (honestly i think this is like??? maybe the third time i brought her up in all of these bullets??? honestly @me

“wAS NOT WILLING 2 GO!!! WAS NOT HAPPY 2 GO!!! WAS NOT READY 2 GO!!! NEEDS SOMEONE 2 FOLLOW!!! DOES NOT KNO WHAT 2 DO!!! DOES NOT APPRECIATE THIS!!! IS SHOOK!!!” - everyone luke fucking kidnapped then basically had 2 serve as a stand-in ezekiel for

they ended up in hillsboro after like 84 years and he was like “OK EVERYONE GETS NEW NAMES!!! :D” and tbh he probs just pulled out one of those baby books pointed 2 a random name and bam!!! that was their name

so even tho i’ve been calling her brinley this whole time just 2 make it??? not confusing??? genesis became brinley and she was no longer a book of revelations she is apparently a name that’s most prominent in utah

over time ppl pce’d out (not rly bc they wanted 2 but bc they needed 2 like u get what i mean.)

it ended up j being three ppl in their shitty apt!!! one luke one brinley and one kid who has a name but 1) i havent mentioned it yet and 2) i dont want 2 go look for it in the bio tbh

doomsday came and brinley was shook!!! rly rly shook!!! trying 2 find out what 2 do that would be similar enough 2 what thE CHILDREN of the corn would do!!! and luke was like ( x )

a lot more climatic than im acting like it was but this is so long i dont want 2 spend too much time on anything anymore but ok minor point is homemade inkin’ machine (legit mainly bc ryan ashley -dave navarro voice- [has/had] what it takes... to be ink master. -end voice-)

ok luke left eventually and idk so did the kid idk that’s in there and at first she was like “lmao idk what 2 do ig imma squat [man ivan and brinley #parallels] and keep doin what im doin” and she did and ok

aFTER ALL OF THIS OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST WRITE she wound up w the oikos (bc honestly u can only squat for so long and who the fuck would be like “yes! i would like 2 be inked by a kid on the street who doesnt rly have anywhere 2 put anything! yes!” [i would be like that #exposed]) and is now somewhere where ppl dont think the world will end soon wtf

personality but who cares abt that:

WOW THAT WAS LONG

ok!!! so i never rly had a clear definition of her personality i just like... waited 2 see (BEFORE THE RP CLOSED FUCK THAT) but then i watched a long-ass chipotle commercial (theres this one part where a cow is basically abt 2 be slaughtered and idk it’s so sad it was rly playin up that pathos i wanted 2 cry) and i was suddenly like!!! a lightbulb!!! “aha!!! basically fiona apple’s cover of ‘pure imagination’”

SO 2 GET ON W THAT

it’s been five years since she escaped and started desocializing from that lyf she knew but like............ five years compared 2 sixteen i mean which one’s gonna weigh the other out tbh (i just typed ‘way’ i cannot believe myself pls send me back 2 first grade)

so ok literally LITERALLY it is this song like im tryna think of how 2 explain it???

like the lyrics of it are (u kno willy wonka) v bright (albeit a bit ??? during that spin part) but the bg in fiona apple’s cover is so??? dark??? and honestly fiona apple’s voice just makes everything seem darker (i love fiona apple shes such a queen)

so it’s a v contradicting song

and she has a v contradicting personality

like ok one big thing that fits this contradiction is she feels like she needs someone 2 follow??? since that’s how it’s been almost all of her life??? (come 2 think of it i wouldnt be surprised w my subconscious if that’s the reason she’s still in the oikos house [asides from jobless but]) but at the same time like??? she WANTS 2 be independent??? she WANTS 2 be able 2 build a life for herself and around herself and not someone else but??? it just doesnt work that way???

MORE CONTRADICTION!!! bc of that whole ‘death/doomsday cult’ thing she is a p paranoid person??? but??? at the same time??? c h i l l ??? i mean in any case shes always gonna be lowkey paranoid but she doesnt??? rly act that way most of the time??? this could also be filed under “very curious about the norms of this brand new society but also very wary and prefers 2 Not™”

MORE!!! lmao ok religion idek what 2 do here honestly it’s so fucked. she knoWS IT’S SO FUCKED IT’S SO FUCKKING FUCKED but 16/21 years like??? v hard 2 get over that??? buT IT’S SO FUCKED. like no hate no discriminate (speaking of no discriminate highkey bi i love wlw) but also “everyone is a sinner and so am i we are living in sin we are going 2 burn it is only a matter of time satan where u @???” so like??? scared and wary??? but also??? fucked.

A LOT OF FUCKING FUCKERY. 

A FIONA APPLE SONG.

THANK U AND GOODNIGHT

if u would like 2 plot pls do feel free 2 like this or hmu

and if u actually READ that all then holy shit ur a saint u would make it 2 heaven on rapture day